My Apologies

I apologize for my poison,

I tried to warn you of it's effects,

it strangles you strongly from the inside

until your mind forgets to reject.

I apologize for my words,

I try to keep them inside,

but their weight is just too heavy

and their stableness declines.

I apologize for my anger,

I never wanted to see red,

now my eyesight's fading black,

from the inside of my head.

I apologize for my tears,

I try to cry only when I need,

but sometimes they slip out -

even sadness needs to be freed.

Dearest Darkness

Dearest Darkness,
why must you play such tricks?
Why must you boil my blood
and cause my veins to itch?
Dearest Darkness,
what have I done?
I surely don't deserve this
and if I do, then I am stunned.
Dearest Darkness,
how much longer must this last?
I thought we called a truce
and decided to leave this in the past.
Dearest Darkness,
where will my head go next?
This lack of light is breaking me
I am positively perplexed.
Dearest Darkness,
please go now, and let me be
the light is fading so quickly..
it's getting difficult to see.

Darling, please

Darling, please, do not cry,
take my sleeve and dry your eyes.
I love you dearly, that is no surprise,
I'm doing my best, all I can do is try.

Darling, please, do not yell and shout,
I understand what your feelings are about.
I love you dearly, please never have a doubt,
all I wish is for my words to count.

Darling, please, do not let go -
there is so much time for you to grow.
I love you dearly, I just wanted you to know..

The Art of Hope

I just want to reveal in knowing that something I believe in matters,
but it seems each component can be so easily scattered.
Even so, I hold on to every little thought I have believed,
unless, of course, there was evil inside when it was conceived.

Today Is Your Birthday

Today is your birthday,
and I do not wish to give you an object,
I do not wish to give you an item.
I wish, instead, to give you a gift,
one that could never be unwrapped,
but one that sits deep in your heart,
pulsing it's way through your body.
I wish to give you a present,
one so rare and hardly ever found,
that scholars from around the universe
will marvel at your discovery.
I wish to you give you a gift,
one that could never be held,
but one that you hold dear,
making you smile from head to toe.
I wish to give you a present,
one so beautiful and magnificent,
it will sparkle inside of you
for years to come.
Today is your birthday,
and I wish to give you the gift of love.
The gift of peace.
The gift of self-worth.
The gift of life.
Today is your birthday,
and you deserve to shine
like the diamond that you are.

Dirty Concious

I could give you a bruise, perhaps,
from sinking my thumb too far into your shoulder.
I could give you a few drops of blood,
tiny shreds of skin,
a temporary trophy of our sixteenth one night stand.
I could give you tears,
many wet, salty, aching tears.
I could give you a headache.
I could take it away.
I could give you anything, really,
any goddamn thing you wanted.
I was willing,
but the only things you were interested in
were the ones that made you more powerful.
I don't even understand what you were trying to do.
Love me? Not in such a twisted way.
Need me? Not a self righteous bastard like you.
Save me? Perhaps.
There is no prize, there is no reward,
there is no 'hallelujah, you rescued me!"
You could have never saved me.
You only plunged me back into darkness,
back into self hatred,
back into self loathing.
You took everything I had worked for
and turned it into a stain on your bed sheet.
Well, lucky for you,
bed sheets are easier to clean than a conscious.

Twenty Two

She excitedly exclaimed,
"Today is my birthday!"
They looked at her like they would any other day,
they told her
"Birthday's don't matter, you're not a kid anymore."
She turned twenty two today,
and they were right,
she was no longer a child.
But while some see age as tic marks on the wall,
she sees it as a real life example of how strong she is.
She barely made it into being seventeen,
and barely made it to twenty one,
but she did.
And now she's made it to twenty two.
Ladies and gentlemen,
a round of applause please,
she
is
twenty two.

I want to write about you

I want to write about you.

I want you to shine through my sentences,

glow with every 

single

word.

You have so much spark inside of you,

so many intriguing, intricate trails of gun powder

just waiting

to 

explode.

My words could never do you justice, 

not even the prettiest of syllables could compare.

I want to write about you.

I want to show you off to the entire world,

so they can all know how

incredible

you 

are.

I want to showcase your greatness,

brag to everyone I know,

because you have 

healed

every

scar.

My words will try so hard to do you justice,

I will use every pretty syllable to declare.

Buried Deep

I think of you
as a castle I conquered,
walls sky high
so you'd never be bothered -
I may be just a memory
but that's more than you are,
buried at the base of these old and dead scars.

Complaints

I wish I could pull out every thought
in a single string
and give my head some space.
I wish I could wrap it around
the entire world
and see how much I scare the human race.
I wish I could laugh it off
as if I'm not crazy
and continue at a full speed pace.
I wish I could curl up into a ball
and fall asleep for good
but instead I'm staring fear in the face.

Ration Your Sanity

The misunderstanding of mental disorders disgraces those who struggle,
we are left with the labels of 'crazy' and 'freak' as we drown in our own bloody puddle.
We share our stories in hopes to help the ashamed and the confused,
but since we don't have a cast or a brace, our cries for help are refused.
My apologies for the lack of broken bones or any missing extremities,
but does that really leave me with the only option of constructing my own remedies?
The endless 'cycle of psycho's' that is imposed on us by society,
tells us to ask for help but get shot down and then bullied for our waning sobriety.
Open your eyes and look for the signs, we are not contagious, but we are sick,
we are looking for safety in the midst of brains that are suffocatingly toxic.
Keep the light in the attic illuminated always and the darkness will not creep,
but once that darkness plants itself, it's root will bury you deep.

Five Thousand Six Hundred and Seventy Two

 Trigger Warning:
This poem is directly influenced by a negative part of my life 
and I caution readers to make the smart decision of only reading this if you are safe.


I remember your teeth being rotten, your nails jagged and long -
I remember the high pitched squeal when you whistled that song.
I keep a photographic collage in my head of who you are -
Small kid with a sick obsession of causing lifetime scars.
Twisted and mental, your trick was striking fear,
knowing I would believe every single thing that I could hear.
The sound of my brain screaming made it difficult to understand,
The movements of your extremities were never helping hands.
You tied the noose around this life that I continue to live in,
making me question every freckle presented on my own skin.
Red eyes, I swear to god, you're the devil in so many ways,
orders kept me on my knees, and like a canine, I obeyed.
A thief of epic definition, you stole the one thing I can't get back,
along with the light in both my eyes and the courage I now lack.
The monster I encountered was never in my closet or under my bed,
he was living next door with his own master plan of getting inside my head,
and more than that, my little skirts too, six year old me is still scared to this day-
you've made me do a double take every time someone asks me if I want to play.
At this point you are imprinted in me, your poison still travels through my heart,
five thousand six hundred and seventy two days since you decided it was time to start.

Rise Once More

Broken, in silence, unable to forget the past -
debilitated in a cocoon of such an emotional cast.
Do not be scared, although I live in the shadow of fright,
I have no plans for what will become my final night.
That type of decision should not be mine to make -
there are so many intricate details who's futures are at stake.
I am microscopic at best in the grand scheme of it all,
but I have to fulfill the dreams I've seen in my own crystal ball.
I've lost track of how often I've risen from the ash -
it seems each time I fly away, I'm destined for a crash -
don't let my insecurities be read like a book of threats,
Because I'm not ready to become a ghost just yet.

Yesterday, one of my closest friends received heartbreaking new... his best friend had passed away. I really don't know what he is feeling, I can only assume the gutwrenching process of grieving is well underway. While I prepare for the departure of my Grandmother, death has been on my mind a lot lately, and after hearing the news of this accident, I decided to write something. It is fairly simple but I think it holds a lot of weight. This poem is dedicated to Cody, because although I had never met him, he will continue to be a huge part of my best friend's life and that is important to me.




Lessons learned after a life is lost:
breath is precious with an unmeasurable cost.
Death may be inevitable but that doesn't make it right,
yesterday is so far away when you're looking in hindsight.
But I know of some people that never should have gone,
it's not easy to accept the line that fate has drawn.
The one thing to remember is that they'll never disappear,
their bodies may be far away but they will always be right here.





And to all of those that are waiting for us on the other side, rest in peace and know that you are never forgotten.

Cadaver, Cadaver

Cadaver, cadaver - what have you done?

Did you forget that tomorrow there is another rising sun?

Blue lips blend so perfectly with your pasty pale skin

you don't belong near the black casket you are in.

Mortician's make-up hides the scars that possess your wrist

Lucifer giggles as he holds his pen to cross your name off his list.

No one blames you, though they may not understand

that to overcome such profound darkness takes more than a helping hand.

The funeral home will quiet and repopulate with strangers

your gravestone will become susceptible to eroding natural dangers -

And even once your body deteriorates into the soil six feet below

the world will still remember but you will never know.

Battlefield, Bloody Field

Recreation of the species of the moster I became,

Different dates, places and names but the burden feels the same,

I look you in the eyes and beg you for the courage I lack

too many broken bones for you to grab on and hold me back.

Laughter opens up the door to a falsehood of stability

smiling along with me is your own responsibility.

I held the red flags tightly, creating creases in my palms

Yet even through the emergencies you stayed perfectly calm.

Making mistakes carefully, costing me pennies a piece,

making payments to the Devil on this life that I lease.

Questionable sanity should never be tested or confused

my mind is nowhere close to here, it's never even be properly used.

Look one last time and I will show you reality through my eyes

I'll tell you now, you're in for one Hell of a surprise.

Make No Mistake When You Take Your Aim

You're so set in stone with the logistics of rebellion
that you seem to have forgotten the circle of Hell we're in.
No more pennies down the well, we're at the lowest point of low,
down here you make your own damn wishes, so plant the seeds to grow.
I played with your words carefully before deciding if they should be bought,
who would have thought the pretty ones could so beautifully decay and rot.
You played the game of distraction, always taking my hand from mid reach
holding me tightly with my back to the door of the closet full of skeletons you keep.
Faking death is easy for you, one face melts away from the rest
daily demonstrations of your recreations to find the one that fits me best.
A round of applause for the magician of the year, beautifully dressed in red -
an overactive appetite for the mistakes you've engraved in my head.
It will take doctors with needles and scalpels and machines
to undo the damage that you've gruesomely instilled in me.
Your concerning tone is questionable, your lack of interest is no longer hidden -
but the guaranteed rejection shuts my mouth, use of vocal chords is forbidden.
You were once a grand King in my eyes, but I was nothing but your whore,
living my life like modern day recollections of medieval  folklore.
There were such unusual circumstances that made me beg for your return,
but the realistic side of tragedy made me pray for you to burn.
Kiss the frog, he'll appear as a price - my misconceptions as a child
left me running the streets searching for every amphibian in the wild.
I caught you once, but let you go, angrily cursing my pattern of toads,
I'll head one way and you head the other, there are several forks in this road,
Continue forward with your journey, you're a paladin of egotistical greed
you will not find what you're looking for, now that your prisoner has been freed.
Luck has boundaries, an end to the belief of your sweet deception is long overdue
I just hope when you fall to the ground the only wounded back will belong to you.

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.

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.

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.