Suicidal Tendenciescourage doesn't comefrom the fibers you'reborn with. You aren'tbrave when you decideto be.when you wakeup in the bedsmeared with yourown self destructionand you act as thoughyou aren't crumblinginto the carpet.or when you holda piece of shrapnelto your veins andwant to sever every lastone, but you throw itout the window.or when you standon the sunsetwith clouds straddlingyour mind and yourwhole existence readyto hurl itself over therailing, but you limphome and through the screendoor and pretend to walkon air again.That is bravery.
Self-destructionyou do not knowfresh out of the wombhow to tear yourself apart.you know how to respirateand nictitate butyou are not taughtto want to spill thefew calories you just consumedbehind a locked door on thecold tile floor.no one tells you thatfilling your lungs with taris dangerous. or howsipping away at Smirnoff can'tnumb the screams inside yourhead forever.you receive nowarning on how addictivecarving your own scarsor charring your skincan be.and no one mentions howphysically taxing it isto talk with a loaded gunbetween your teeth.you aren't born self-destructiveit's a diseasecommunicableand deadly
Glassi found a mangled bodyand tried to fix it.but i got too closeand ended up cutting myselfon the jagged remains.the bleeding hasn't stopped.
fe(b)r(u)a(ry)today i stared atdeath, who waspainted the colour ofa young man.his blood didn'tcirculate with minebut i was sewn intothe black likeeveryone else.i was surrounded bythe bloody remains of ascreaming car crash, andpeople's thoughts were gaspingfor air in the snowalong with man-madesnowflakesi always thought the firstfuneral i'd attendwould bemy own
11:47roses are redviolets are bluecompliments mean nothingwhen coming from you.don't tell me i'm skinnydon't call me fatjust acknowledge i'm humanand leave it at that.
Hookedhe got attachedlike velcrobut iwas fused to himwith super glueso whenhe pulled awayit stung me harder
Saviori used tostumble overthe same brokenfog infectedhighway, behind alayer ofnostalgiaand pineuntil he cameand painteda galaxy acrossthe rocksand pasted starsall alongmy wrists
Inkclogging the arteriesand simply devastatingthe nerves and teeth, i'mvarnished in sabletides, nothing shortof drowning with the deadweight of a lifestrangling me.consuming me.plaguing me inside.
nostalgia is poisoncall me a hoarder if youwant.i steal memories fromnettle-strewn alleywaysand crystallized diningrooms,collect them inkisses and nasty littlescars.i can't seem to partwith them, no matter howseverely they threaten myhealth
.sleep left himexhausted;when he closedhis eyes he sailedthrough graveyards,and every nighthe threw himselfoverboard
.i dug up thepast again, thosememories viciousand snarlingi set them looseinside the houseand now we haveto leave
Pomegranate BlissR E M E M B E Rwhen the violet mooncascaded upon my face,and the shimmer ofmy midnight skinhad left your breathdisplaced.Indeed your soulwas caught on F I R E -was blazing just like mine,for the world withinour garden changed;'twas pomegranate-entwinedAnd with everysingle step we tookamong the cobbled path,the roses swayedand music playedfor love that'd surelyL A S T.And fountains sprangand new bells rangamid the castle shore,as time R E L A P S E Dand we fell backinto the springardor.
AlcoholicYour tux is the colorof a coal miner’s faceafter a long, hard day of work:something you’ve neverhad to experienceYet you talk as thoughyou’re just as worn out;your trivial chit-chatis turning syrupy with every sip,although your sentencesaren’t getting any sweeterAnd you grab another glassof the effervescent liquid,hoping the sea of black will blend together,and it will be dark enoughfor you to fall asleepAnd as you walk tipsily to the bathroom,the overpaid opera singerbelts her last high note- a bit too high;your crystal glass shattersinto a thousand piecesAnd with it, you shatter too.
The BarricadeThe spine is a jealous loverthat clutches its spindly armsaround the lungsin a fierce cage of boneto protect the tendernessburied beneath,where it can’t be seen(by love)It embraces our organswith a possessivenessof the heartbut even this shadowfriendlooking out for uscannot fully barricadeagainst splinters(from love).With the huskof aorta and veinthere is a knotthat can be undonewith the grazing of a smile.Even the spinewill bend under the weight(of love).
wanderlusti was all sex and stitcheswith every color on a TV screen;(and between me and you)your teeth, your tongue,your ferret-hands and knowledgeable mind--they scared me.the foreign worlds beneath your skin:the contortions of your spine andorgans;you wanted to conquer; to claimand plant a flag--and i--i wanted cancer
you should be home by nowlast tuesday the house took my hand & said,it's more of a hurricane than a firesince he broke in & burnedmy curtainsmy floorsmy bridgesmy selfbut sometimes I see her with a lighter& she finishes what he didn't do(I think she's afraidof settling in,being quiet)but last tuesday I realized that she kept the lights onto frighten away the bridges & the peopleso no one will come inside& smash the teacups, steal the pipesbecause since he burnt her beds outno one lives there anymore
blowing my teeth out the back of my skullI.we are hynagogic wasteland words, unravelingcorpses clutching at bruised throats - white gasolineII.and when your skin heals, i hope i've permeated your bones( i will never be rid of you ).
two minutes at the bottom of the oceani open my eyes and the room is underwater a refraction of light--a trouttail flicked & then the sediment settleslike dysentery, this narcoleptic soulto pulse, spininto a paralysis of theno--this is the pressure that creaks in my bones:this is the space between my mouth and my mind& the few centimeters between my ears are pulsingwith the things I cannot get to my handsbut my head is not a fucking ocean:it's a flaw in chemistry
10 ways depression can say i don't love you1. "i'm sorryi don't want tocome over today."the clock reads 4pmand i roll over in my bedagain.2. "i forgot it was yourbirthday."i'd forgotten my owntoo.3. "i promise i won'thurt myself."the ER doesn't believeit's an accidentanymore.4. you asked if i loved you.i had to sneeze and itnever happened.i think you took thatas a no.5. we haven't had sex in a month.6. we don't seeyour friends.we don't seemy friends.i've forgotteni even have any.7. i never answered your text.it asked if i was okay.8. "i need you to open yourselfup for me," you said.i stopped talking.9. "what do you want from me,blood?"apparently you didn't.10. tonight i will sleep alonebut not really.depression will hold mecloseand stroke my hair,telling me everythingwill never beall right.
From Mia, With Lovelast night i caught her with a finger so far down the back of her throat,she pulled up her thoughtsinto all the watera refraction of light &a troutsuspended until suddenly all the water in her head sloshes(a faint inner rippleas the pain leaks out her ears, her nose)she was gasping to throw herself onto the next commabut noshe sinks or swims [the cliche, a baracuda, drags her down]but if this was a love songshe'd hate itbecause she's already written 46 on her handto remind herself she's only human & a weak gag reflex runs in her familyso walk straight in, my love& sink to the bottomsix feet under these bulimic stars
Astrali'm the seraphicromanticist,a hallowed bodyswallowing galaxieslike i am hellbent onself-deterioration
confess, like there's blood pouring out your mouthfear is licking at thiscobwebbed mind & ifeel cinematic; like asteam-powered poet,i'll write myself into amisanthropic migraine& outline cinder bonesto match - ingenue,you are an esoteric'snightscape & i, yourmorning's fever burns.
Papier-mache face If I was all alone in a darkened roomI'd be no more alone than I am with you.A mask and a good costume,That's all it takes to hide what's true.And you stand there and lie with such good graceAs if not aware that I know what's real.I can read what's on your face,But there's nothing there to reveal.So blank, so distant, and so cold;Papier-mâché face, lost to reality.You're just a projection of the lies you've toldIn the guise of prudent neutrality.
we can only hurt ourselvesthe light from your cigarette was the light in your eyes
and i have tried to make it right.i.let me tell you a storyusing six words.their names become parts of statistics.let me tell you a storyusing six words.“suicide is the easy way out.”let me tell you a storyusing six wordsthat will never be told.pain is not a fuckingchoice.--ii.do you still pray,knowing there will be no answer?see, i cannot speak for thosewho have no voice to givebut, sincerely, these are the six wordsi respond with:i wish i could save you.--iii.we live our lives being told thatthere is always a safety net -that there are people designed to protect us.i’m going to use six words because,sometimes,the saddest storiestake the fewest words to tell.for them, there was never anyone.--iv.blades can cut wrists buthere are six words:blades can cut stories short, too.--v.i have approximately 250,000 wordsto choose fromto try and describe to you what suicide isbut i don’t
.they looklike my past loversdressed from headto toe in black,a rabbitstomach wearingthin uponthe tarmac, pinkdry five petaled flowersthat i don'tcare much for now,an empty womba crypt, the darknessslipping inwithout romance,the boatmanjumping ship again,his bones softand adrift,a vein, a needleand a weightagainst my chest,the golden sun and silvermoon, the bedsinside saint peter's(they sound like my heart in the night)
Skeletal System.My vesselis empty,as vacant asa gaping gravebecause I put everythingI hadinto loving youand nowI am askeleton.
Still Oxidizinglast nighti read theobituariesand when i sawyour name wasn't deaddecaying or rustingrotting in a forestmingling with a pile ofashes, i realizedyou really couldlive without me