The shattered glass that surrounds my eyes
helps me to see clearer

who knew tears
were the best prescription

When the butterfly has flown the lily graced flower
That has been the family home for generations upon generations,
Whose petals have protected against mites for decades;
When she has left with no intention of looking back over one jaded ruby wing
To reminisce upon all she's leaving behind
Between the silken walls of her childhood home;
That's when the community begins to judge her.

Scarlet wings gallantly breezing through the air with nary an effort, she glides above the rest, destination unknown.
Laughs, sneers, jeers, and scorn rise from the ground below her gravitating form like smoke from a house fire.

~She's afraid of her past.

~Her family must have disowned her.

~It's her own fault, anyways.

High above them, she still hears everything, but pretends not to. After all, life will soon be her oyster, far away from this place.

Far away from the crowds of rude sociality that insist upon knowing every last detail about her life and pursuits, morphing her most sacred details into gossip fit for the common lunch table at the Meadowlands Cafe.

Far away from the friends who helped her grow until she realized her wings were too large and beautiful to hide or fit within the confines of this dulling, lifeless community.

And far, far, far away from the smoldering smoke that emanated from the last tulip at the Far East side of the community, the burning of leaf and petal that had prompted her leaving once and for all.

Scarlet like her wings, her past has gone up in flames. Soon, the butterfly is past the scorning and pointing of fingers and into the wild unknown. Only here does she bite her lip and look back, against her better judgement. And then she smiles.

All that's left of her past is a cloud of bad memories mixed with the haze of gossip and the smoke from a home that never felt like it was her own.

So she pushed on. Scarlet flutters through turquoise until she disappears, a red blob on the hazy horizon.

She has overcome. And she is free.

Bare wrists
Dressed in red
Bands wrap
Around uncovered skin

Choking on pain
Scarlet pools
Baby blues
Purple bruise

Canvas arms
Circling colors
Bubbles gurgling
Clean cut

We ate off paper plates.
God, we were a mess,
we nourished ourselves with
disposable trays,
to leave less of a mess.

We slept on paper beds,
just incase we fought again,
what a waste it would have been,
to have bought a brand new set,
only to end up sleeping in separate rooms,
on the floor again.

We conquered paper mountains,
they didn't bend, they didn't break,
they ripped beneath our heavy feet,
and we let them because we were too defeated.

Together we made a world of paper,
that's why I'm gone from yours now,
you held me for three years,
but three years of paper burns in 10 minutes if you let it.

And that's why you're still in mine,
I never took you out,
I never had the heart to take the time
to set you on fire,
and now you're stuck here.

I eat off paper plates now,
hoping one day you'll get hungry again too,
and we can build a world again,
temporarly, disposable, as long as it's with you.

something to fill this empty room,
besides the scatters of something started;
a work in progress, never finished.
something besides the
dull smells of fake fragrances and a thousand candles,
spent and past in brazen attempts at aromatherapy.
something to accompany the
ceiling stared at, night after night,
besides the spider and moth that live near the light.
another human, perhaps,
if there were room, at least. another set of thoughts,
besides ones own, weighing heavy in the walls.
a monster under this bed,
give us something real to fear, make me leave,
make me feel, make me scream.
something to fill this empty room,
besides everything still in it. not empty at all,
just worn and torn, bored, full,
empty.

They never quite got along,
but nothing made them feel wrong,
She always told him, "of course dear"
Regardless of what she did 'r didnt hear

And the *** wasn't ever bad,
But then again it was rarely had,
And words of love were not exchanged,
But they were never quite estranged,

So none were sad when one ol' day,
He just happened to go away,
She never spoke of him poorly,
But never praised him as close to holy,

And he never grudged the mandated checks,
Nor did he ever give her an extra cent.
He never went out to drink until hurlin',
Nor did he seclude himself like Merlin,

And then some day they up and died,
Had a nice funeral,
But I didn't cry.

Why create me?
Do you love me or hate me.
Whats the purpose?
I feel fckng worthless.
Why so serious?
This addiction has me feeling delirious.
Im at the end
Cant comprehend
I'm a fake
I pretend to be a man
Just a phony
Faux
Spec of dust
Grain of sand.
But yet....
I understand.

i'll spend my night lying awake staring
at the ceiling waiting for him to message me
but he never does, i knew this anyway
i knew he wouldn't
eventually, after hours of crying and turning
and bleeding, i'll tire myself out and my eyes will close
and, due to my luck, he'll message five minutes later
but he wont reply when i reply
he won't talk after that
he'll tell me he loves me sometimes
just to try and stop me crying
but it doesnt stop me crying
lies do not comfort me anymore
lies do not dry my cheeks
but i'll eat them like my last meal
and then he'll disappear
and i'll leave it until he messages again
and i'll cry and i'll bleed and i'll punch myself
and i'll ignore everything good in the world
because he refuses to experience it with me
he doesn't want to experience it with me
because i am not good. i am worthless
and he knows it
and they know it
and i know it
and i'll imagine myself being ice like i was before
but somehow his embers have burned through me and it's too heated for me to
freeze over again
and i'll lay awake at night waiting for him to message me
but he won't
he doesn't
i knew he wouldn't, i didn't expect anything else
and he'll tell me he loves me
and i'll eat his lies like my last meal
desperately trying to find some form of solace
but i don't
they taste sour
i look at him like he is a diamond
and he looks at me like i am a pebble
and i am so filled with anger
so much fire, i'm not used to fire
i want to be cold again so it will stop hurting
but it won't. it's too hot here
i'll lay awake at night staring at the ceiling trying to figure out how i can become good enough
or even just enough
but it won't work
and i'll cry and bleed
i want him out of my veins