tenI've politely declined deathfor maybe the seventh timebut he's a rather persistentfellow; he never lets myfingerstray toofar fromthe trigger
nineit's funny how carefulwe are aboutdamaging ourselvesproperly
fivemaybe if i tear out myveins, replace them withflowers, stitch myself up withlace and ribbons, i'll be pretty
twothese scars will meltwith time, but the emotionsare forever branded tothe hour that birthed them andthe strangers they belong to
Endlessi could talk to youuntil my throat bledfrom all the sharp cornersof every wordand i'd listen to your voiceuntil the suncircles the moon.and then some
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
fourdo not wish upona star, the starsare dead; the skyis filled with corpses
threemy wrists are leaking again;i've spilt my guts, but youmopped them up without evencringing. i don't thinkthe stains will come out.not this time.
Yesterdayyesterdayi nearly disposed ofmy existenceand i still have to wakeup, caked in a layer ofunfeeling burn marks, justto be swallowed by crowdsof ignorance again.just because i'm notcoughing up a lungdoesn't mean i'm notsick, and if you won'thelp me slay this monsterby giving me over to ahospital for souls, it's yourown damn fault i'm nevercoming home.
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.
eighti run with scissorson purpose. i don't havea death wish, I just hideall the bullet holesi've collected upon enteringthis cruel world. being impaledcan't hurt much more
Mother's Dayeven though i wasa stain to you,you still chose tocherish me, and i'msorry i tried destroyingwhat took you nine monthsto perfect.
Springthe stale air in my lungsis depleting with eachbreath of crude spring.my blood is melted,my heart is smolderingand my eyes are aflame.the corpse of winterlays dormant undermy feet
Delusional Angel.Delusional Angel.Twist my mind up, influence me.It's all a dream darling, don't think it real.We're just passing through; or is life passing through us?Wrap yourself around me, love––hold me through the storm.Do you feel that beating, love?––it's in sync with the universe.Life is but a moment; surging through eternity.This, right now is but a coinciding instant.We have survived the world, lovely. Do you see it?Remember me in the morning dear, tonight is absolute.Pale pink lips and sweet bits.Sketches and coffee spots.Full moons and breaking points.Vinyl vibes and genuine conversation.Red wine and lipstick streaks.Kisses and contemplation.© Rocio Belinda Mendez
i hope you remember to bring the flowers.the stars whispered lateone nightas we lay beneath theirgrandeur."what if i die today?" you asked.and i told you in that case,i'd see you by tomorrow.
My DiseaseMy fingers bleed wordsthat my lips cannot say.When they try to trickle out,I scowl and turn away.It may not be contagious,but it is a disease.Holding myself deep inside,it's getting hard to breathe.Lies come so easy,to cover up the truth.It’s like my second nature,grown from my very youth.It’s deeper than conviction,more earnest than a thought.It’s my wayIt’s my lifeIt is my disease.
comfortcurling into quilts so deepbubbles of tension run offmy body like soap, and iclutch that raggedy littledog to my chest like clothcan make me whole.
Childhood Thoughts...Always a houseNever a home...
Two SidesOh. It broke.Don't worry, we can fix it!Why bother? It'll just break again.But then we can make it stronger!It won't make a difference.Well, we have to fix it if it's broken, right?Not unless we stop using it.But we have to use it!We do?We do!It's useless fixing it though; it never stays quite right.Then we'll just have to make sure it does this time, won't we?You know you're just setting yourself up for failure.We'll see. You know we're going to end up using it.And a week after we start using it, it'll break. Again.We just have to learn how to use it properly.And what is this "properly"? Have we been using it dangerously this entire time?Well, no, but—Exactly. It's not us. It's them.You know, you shouldn't blame it on others.Whatever.Why do you never care about it?Why do you care so much about it?
Only WordsIt's all harmless fun,He knows I'm kidding He's constantly giving reasons That make me want to dieSure, he's a hideous thing,But that's not my fault He tells me how ugly I am, That I'm some monstrous beingHe's the biggest nerd everHe deserves to know his level He steals my glasses, hits my books Tells me to stop the "genius act"I'm always sure to tell othersHow we're just playing around He tells the teachers, "we're friends", About ho
UnspokenFor the loveI never shared.For the thingsI'll never tell.For all the secretsBig and small.For the timesI ignored the calls.For all the wordsI left unspoken.I'm now drowningIn my emotions.
NightmaresI used to be an open personSome would say I was too openI told everyoneEverything there was to know about meBut it all changed one dayThey changed the way they saw meThey changed the things they did around meShe changed the way she looked meShe changed the way she spoke to meI changed the things I chose to shareI changed the way I saw the worldI made a simple mistakePresenting my heart on a silver platterOne day made meOne day chained meIt was an innocent actionThat led to disastrous consequencesOne day gave birth to my downfallOne day showed me HellIn the moments leading to my demiseI spoke an evil truthTelling my younger sisterMy worst nightmaresDisgust danced on her faceFear glazed her eyesAnd tears chased each other down her little cheeksI realized thatIn order to right my wrongI had to changeThis was the only way to save myselfFrom my own growing darknessSo I stopped
Spotlight"it's all for attention"but silence is not a spotlightwords unsaid aren't pleading criesdark clothes do not draw the eyeblood drips silently, slowlyscarred flesh is held close, concealedpills are small, in light of how they'll end it all(razors don't shine in the dark)"it's all for attention"but silence is not a spotlightsilence is a suicide note
Self hate.You're pissing me offQuit bringing me downI've had enoughOf walking around with a frownYou threw away my most precious possessionAll my emotions made place for aggressionThen came hatred followed by depression Everyone ignored it with this same empty expression Quit calling me slutDon't bring up those stories filled with painQuit making me cutDon't make me jump underneath the free-trainJust shut up and hear me outAll you need to do is listen that's itYou have no clue what this is aboutYou're destroying me bit by bitI want you to disappearThe well I'm in is far too deepOnly because you're hereI wish for eternal sleepI hate you!I hate..I.
she suffers melancholy like the plagueshe cannot raise her voice to reachthe notes that she adoreswithout the ocean escaping from her eyes,and she cannot kneel in prayerto the god that she tries to lovewithout copper staining the pavement,but she can scream into a room and not be heard,and she can deprive her stomach and not be seen--but oh,these are not the type of talents to be appreciated,to be loved without condition,and so nobody does.
I Plucked A Feather From A Sleeping Angel's WingI plucked a feather from a sleeping angel's wingSo that I could fly.I waved my arms from the edge of the highest hill,But didn't ascend to the sky.So carefully I plucked another breathlessly,And with one in each hand tightly boundI strove in vain but the results were the same:My feet stayed on the ground.So I plucked the rest in deepening exasperation(Leaving that poor angel completely bare),And flailed my arms madly in silent desperation;Feathers scattered everywhere.I sat down and cried looking to the sky,Wondering why I couldn't fly on the wings of a feather,Then the angel awoke and behind me he spoke"They weren't bound together."
Nothing to WriteI have nothing to write today.I sat down with a thought and a pen,Flourishing with the ideaThat few things are as definiteAs death, taxes, and the loss of symmetry in freshly tweezed eyebrows.But soon, the words ceased with a skid,And the punchlines came flat.Here I am,Sitting before the brisk view of the red Arizona mountainsWith the sun in my hair and the sky in my smile,Still completely dumbfounded and void of inspiration.Perhaps I'll type a soliloquyOn the philosophy of a cactus,And on how the sweetest fruitsAlways seem to grow on sharp, dry, government-protected plant-life.Maybe a sketch will form in my brainOf a sonnet on the juxtapositionBetween the hummingbird's humAnd the highway's roar.The sidewalk burns of scorching summer,And the heavy heat deflates a sigh that sings my frustrations.There is no poem to be seen and no prose in the winds.There is absolutely nothing to write today.
sixhe plucked six white rosesfor meand even though they'll diein a week,it's matchless to any other gifti've received