My mattress knows these things by now.

I've caught myself tracing numbers into my sheets on sleepless nights.

Numbers of dates and times of a past life three generations back. 

Telephone numbers that belong to strangers. 

Addresses of hideouts that have nothing but buried secrets beneath them now. 

I try not to question why I still retain these digits deep inside my mind,

I figure they are just finding their way out of the quicksand,

trying to escape as quickly as they can.

Mental Intervention

What's the last thing you remember before you fell onto the floor?

Before you took all those little pills, not wanting to give a damn anymore?

What went through your mind as each  handful went down?

What were you searching for, where did you think it would be found?

They said that you gave up, but I know you better than that.

You wouldn't just let something crumble when it only has a crack.

But that's not the way you see it, you think you're lost in the past somewhere -

you are only in the past because you keep yourself there.

Your smile has gotten weaker and your eyes lack their former glow,

you say you understand yourself but how much do you really know?

Your brain functions without you, the gears are turning as they please,

how many more times will you confuse a meltdown for a brain freeze?

What will you think of yourself, twenty years down the line?

Or do you just think this body of yours will be casually left behind?

No impact, you say, you think no one would care at all -

but you never really know who will catch you until you're already mid-fall.

I think everyone should take a minute to read this.

We are consumed by bullshit on a daily basis. I don't think people honestly understand that. Tragedy should not be the only thing that makes people look at the world around them. There is so much outside of computer screens, classrooms, bedrooms and cliques. We live in a world that is stocked full of hate, violence, disrespect and down right uncivilized actions. We get so wrapped up in the advancement of technology that we forget that our brains are the most powerful tool of all. Something always has to be better - human beings are never satisfied with what they have. Society insists that females look like super models, act like angels, and have the talents of a porn star, as well as informing men that it's perfectly acceptable to treat women with no respect and making money is one of the only importances of life.  The majority of children in junior high and high school are more concerned with their social lives that most likely won't last past graduation than with the problems of the world that directly impact their future. We threaten to shove weapons of mass destruction down the throats of our "enemies" just so that we know we have the upper hand. We kill hundreds upon thousands of innocent bystanders to the wars that most people don't even know the reasoning behind. The world gets angry and punishes those who are rejected when asking for help. People are more interested in who will win the 57th season of their favorite reality show then they are with who will be elected as director of their child's school district. Kids learn how to measure, label and find the variables of every triangle they could come across but have no idea how to balance their bank account. Society yells at woman for wearing the clothing they over charge for at the malls they built after knocking down four hundred trees to make space. We are told to ask for help no matter the circumstance but are pushed away or labeled crazy when we tell the truth. Children are killing themselves because modern generations can't seem to understand that the phrase "sticks and stones  may break my bones but words will never hurt me" just isn't true when insults are thrown about like a football. The fact of the matter is people will not change if we as humans continue to feed off of the faults of those around us. Society will not change if we continue to burn misconceptions into the brains of our youth. The world will not change if we continue to allow it to be run as a hierarchy.

Six Years, Too Young

Don't bother asking questions when you refuse to accept what's real,
We both know if the Devil appeared you wouldn't hesitate to shake on a deal.
You're corrupt, disturbed, evil to the core -
the natural state of my mind seems impossible to restore.
I blame you, and I blame the black soul you retain,
searching for normalcy, an impossibility to attain.
I sense your confusion every time you pass by,
the only questions remaining now are a bouquet of why's.
Why do you find it so easy to sleep through night?
Why do you get to run when I'm frozen in fright?
I don't see through your mask because it's fallen to the ground,
laying in the rubble and the ash that now surrounds.
I have kneeled at your feet with tears in my eyes,
susceptible to the horror that seeped away from your disguise.
Although years have passed, decades under my belt,
it's difficult to conquer the emotions that I felt.
So many insecurities piled on my plate
so many inconsistencies screwed around by fate.
I wash my hands clean of you, but my soul is surely stained,
broken pieces coming loose, they're getting harder to contain.
I ask you now with kindness, although you deserve none,
don't act like you know me when you don't even know what you've done.

I should have kicked him in the teeth

There was once this boy that gave butterflies
in the worst possible kind of way.
I thought it was love, pulling me gently
towards the wreckage that is now the past.
He stood next to me on more than one occasion,
but the in between times of empty hands
prevailed over all of the sweet words he threw my way.
At least that's how I see it now.
Back then, I would have sawed off multiple extremities for him.
I thought I couldn't breathe without him -
so missing body parts didn't seem that bad to keep him around.
He didn't want to stick around though,
that was the part I failed to realize five too many times.
I watched him walk away from the burning mess,
leaving me stranded with all confidence singed away.
But he's always come back -
he'd always rush back over, never quite too late,
pick up all the pieces and start building once again.
Over and over,
burned to the ground.
I finally picked up the pieces and walked away,
giving him one last upwards middle finger to prove my point.
It's kind of funny, really.
I'm keeping all my limbs this time,
but he can have the 'fuck you' finger any time he wants.

They Were Broken in Different Places

You see her sitting there, saddened by a broken heart
from a boy going too fast, too quick, too done - too gone.
You didn't even have to ask her to know that was the truth.
Her eyes were a dead give away with the tears welling
and her legs shaking and her thumb nails bitten to the bone.
You make the effort to sit next to her, carefully, quietly -
not wanting to disrupt her wallowing self pity.
She looks at you - sniffling - cracking a half attempted smile.
You ask her what's wrong,
she replies with "men are assholes... no offense."
You say none taken, your head says she's cute as hell.
She tells you he was a douche bag, a fuck face,
a whatever-insult-she-can-think-of.
She tells you he hurt her,
that she doesn't deserve a broken heart.
You tell her you understand,
that you are sorry and that she is right, she doesn't.
But you don't understand and you aren't sorry
and you don't even know her.
She listens to your lies and never realizes the worst -
you are telling her everything she shouldn't be hearing
but she needs you just as much as you need her...
right?
You continue justifying it to yourself,
right?
She needs a hand to hold
and you need a bed to share
so you pretend it's the same thing
and you invite her over to get her
mind off this asshole, douche bag,
fuck face of an ex boyfriend.
She mistakes your kindness for shining armor
when you tell her it will be okay in the morning -
she thinks one thing, and you think another,
because you won't even be there when she wakes up...
her heart will continue breaking and your guilt
will fly away in the breeze.
I hope you're happy, Romeo -
or whichever cliche you believe to be -
Just remember that confidence should never
be confused with pride.

Dear Disease - Signed Conscience

Here we go - again.
I don't know how many times I have to tell you,
she doesn't want you around.
I don't even think you know what you've done to her!
She breaks down on a daily basis -
because of you.
She has panic attacks -
because of you.
She hates herself -
because of you.

Oh, but then there's scars..
telling her razors are fun to play with,
telling her scars are more beautiful than clean flesh?
Why would you do that?
Why would you put her though that...!

What  makes you think you can keep coming back?
You are a plague to her,
you hold her back from everything she can be.
Stop this, once and for all.
You don't deserve the energy you take.

I have her best interests at heart.
She deserves me.
She needs me.
She doesn't want anything to do with you.
Leave her alone.
Don't come back.

Maybe Everyone Gets A New start

She never thought it would come down to this,
she never thought she would have scars on her wrist,
she doesn't want to admit that anything's wrong,
so she pretends it's nothing and just hums along.
Her mother is worried, scared for her daughter,
it would have been so much easier if she had known her father.
But what she doesn't know is she's stronger than anyone,
consciously putting down the razor and not picking up the gun.
Her memory fails her, tells her happiness has never been around
but if you look deep enough it's just waiting to be found.
Her mind runs faster than she can even comprehend
she's lost all hope in herself so she turns to her friends,
but no one can help her, or so she claims,
she says broken pieces are all that remain.
She sits on the floor, head in her knees,
and wonders how she became so damaged at only sixteen.
But I have faith in this girl, I know she can win,
I know she has it in her, she just has to begin.
Living life isn't easy, she's living proof of that,
because she would do anything to take it all back.
This girl is a wonder to the people that care,
but she will tell you that compassion is rare.
Her misconceptions are brewed deep in her brain,
leaking out stealthily as she covers up the stains.
No one tells her the words she desperately needs to hear -
that there is so much love for her to erase the fear,
that she is a beautiful creature, inside and out,
and she should never have even a second of doubt.
I wish I could take it all away, mend her broken heart,
and scare off anyone that tries to rip it apart.
But her life is not mine and there's only so much I can do,
so I will continue loving her until my wishes come true.

She Skips the Cookies at AA

She stumbles through the room,
underwear being the only thing covering her thin hips.
She told herself the second half of the bottle would be saved for tomorrow -
it now sloshes in the bottom of her tiny stomach.
Her best friend called three times,
but she lost her phone last week and it's no where to be found.
She crashed at her boyfriend's house sixteen times in the last month
and her parents aren't sure where to find her.
Everyone warned her, said to be careful with the bottle in her hand,
said 'it runs in the family, you don't want to become one of them.'
But she has, and she loves it -
the weightless feeling of being wasted,
the weightless feeling of an empty gut from puking up the party from the night before.
She wears cigarettes like perfume and the dark circles replace makeup,
she couldn't tell you the last time she ate,
or even the last time she wanted to.
The mysterious bruises have unknown origins,
but she doesn't seem to mind the purple spots
which she claims give her 'character'.
Her words get mixed up before they even leave her throat,
the mangled mess that comes out means nothing to anyone but her.
She doesn't know the date, or even the city she's in.
Her life has come down to when the bottle can be empty,
and how long she can keep her stomach the same way.

This Little Town

This little town has taken too much from me.
Broken bones on street corners,
broken hearts on bed sheets,
broken everything, in one way or another.
Shooting stars are the last bit of hope that I have,
11:11 popping up on the stove clock,
crossed fingers kissed for luck.
I've waited years to get away,
to leave this place behind me like the plague that it is.
Someone told me I couldn't escape my home,
that this hell will always be apart of me.
I try not to admit that I know they are right,
the sliver of glass that has wedged itself tightly into my heart
is the best example of the connection I keep to this place.
This little town continues to take from my sanity,
forcing my hands to cover my mouth.
I like it here.
I swear.

A Day in the Life

My mind grows dark with thoughts of dread,
the bloody crime scene I envision in my head,
it's this moment, the one that I hatefully love,
the one that is confused for wanting to leave and live above.
Once again the razor digs into my arm,
I present a horrific smile as I indulge in this harm...
questions will be asked, lies will roll off my tongue -
your judgments are no match the damage that is done.
Sleeves pulled down, Band Aids missing from the drawer -
if only you knew the battle that's in store.
You beat me down with your tone of voice -
don't tell me I can stop when it's no longer my choice. 
My skin is scarred, but my heart is worse,
I fear the only end is with my body in a hearse.
You spit your misconceptions back in my face,
I'm just trying to survive, I didn't know life was a race.
I've recovered once, at least temporarily so,
it's just that I crave it so much when I feel so low.
Your put downs towards me are not helping in the least,
they just feed the monster who is turning into a beast.
I don't ask for your blessing, acceptance is all I need
I'm trying my best but this darkness is so hard to feed.
Please, let me be, I promise death is not in the plan,
I just need space so I can see I have my own two feet to stand.

The Truth Behind Reality

You ask me why I act this way, why I'm scared to speak the words I want to say, why I hibernate day after day. I'll tell you something, I wish I knew, I wish I had the answers to more than a few of the questions that permeate, praying for a clean slate, mind is in a constant mixed state - let's get this straight. I don't know why I'm like this, I just know what I'm told, all I can blame it on is having my innocence sold as a one way ticket to the infinite cold. I'm not here to tell you differently, just to make you think more logically. Do you think I asked for this, the scars on my skin? Do you think I asked for the urges to sin? I question the outcome of the life that I lead and it makes me wonder if I was sprouted from a cursed seed, I have a sickening greed to be one less prisoner but I have no hope to be freed. The world spins around me and there's no way to stop, I have to find my way out before I crumble and rot, don't you dare tell me to give it another shot when I've spent the last decade giving it all I've got. I'm tired, exhausted, mentally dead - have you even listened to a word I've said? I'll throw in the towel once more but I'm no where near the end, I have a kingdom of insanity that I must fight for and defend. The person you see is not the person inside, I wish I could show it but I've fail every time I've tired so I've learned it's easier to just find a place to hide. I look at the face in the mirror today, it's different than yesterday but it's hard to say, I try not to realize that girl didn't want to stay. My heart aches violently, beating quietly almost silently, it tries too hard to be what it's not meant to be, my organ craves blood but I confuse it for love so I fill the hole with the feelings I stole because what was rightfully mine was once upon a time taken and I think your reasoning is mistaken. I cannot tell you why I am the way I turned out to be, I can only tell you to wait and see. You may not like it, and you may not agree, but I will never be anyone other than the mess that is me.