Years and Years

One day, years and years from now,
I would love to have someone find my writing,
either through random searches on the internet,
or digging through a box found and a local flea market,
or something of the sort.
I would love for them to pick up the page, or the notebook,
or lean into the screen a little bit farther,
and absorb every word they see.
To see only my messy handwriting and sloppy signature,
but know that someone understands.
I would love for someone to find peace and contentment in knowing
that someone, at some time, felt exactly as they feel.
One day, years and years from now,
I would love to help someone not feel alone.

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.

I'll shed you away one last time.

I realized I could recall your ghostly silhouette,

lightened by your television,

at four o'clock in the morning -

as you continued puking from the binge the night before.

I realized I could remember the smell of your cigarettes,

the ones you tried to make me smoke with you,

on your back porch 

in the pouring rain.

I realized I could recall the weight of your hand,

as your pressed it farther up my thigh

as you whispered -

"Shh, just friends."

I realized I could remember your laugh,

but now recalling that the nervousness in your tone

was from fear of being caught.

I remember all of these things,

much more vividly than I remember anything else about you.

I don't remember your birthday.

I don't remember the feeling of your lips.

I don't remember the color of your eyes.

I don't remember the color of your sheets.

I don't even remember the butterflies you once gave me.

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..

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.

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.

That was then

What happened one year ago today

was due to a seed that was planted long, long ago.

It's roots grabbed hold of every corner of my brain,

the tiny grips of black, rotted steel.

It grew and twisted it's way through every crevice

until there was no more life to suck away.

You could see it, through the deepest parts of my eyes.

The lack of everything.

The love of nothing.

The pressure of anything.

No explanation could do it justice,

could fully entail every torture it makes you feel.

I have very rarely danced with the Devil,

but I assure you, one year ago today,

he was standing next to me.

Pushing me, urging me, promising me -

'Go for it, you should do it, it will be fine'

The darkness did the dirty work, he was just there to pull the trigger.

It was like those roots gripped so hard that it overloaded itself -

and not even the darkness knew how to handle the aftermath of it's own experiment.

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.

History repeats itself

The world runs on repeats of the past.
Someone has already said the words you've muttered - or shouted,
walked the ground you've trusted your feet on,
hugged the people you've clung onto with hope.
Sometimes, though, these repeats over lap in some way.
You say the same words, to two different people,
You shuffle your feet next to a new body on the same old road,
You hug the people you should have left behind.
And it's these warped repeats that confuse us,
excite us,
endanger us.
We feel the connection of familiarity and we thrive on that,
and somehow the outcome of the past is always forgotten until it's too late.
No one can say that they've never made a mistake.
We regret things and make faulty decisions on a daily basis.
We grow from these situations, but sometimes it takes years
of failed instances to the point of pulling your hair out
and banging your head against the wall.
You think "Why me?"
and the best answer to give is wait -
you will soon see that this repeat of bullshit
is apart of human nature.

It's July, by the way.

I don't think I could have even told you what month it was.
Hot.
That's all I knew -
sticky, humid, melt your face off hot.
Somehow I managed to not get out of bed,
I just laid there for hours...
maybe even days.

It's been a long time comin'

15.

I invited a boy into the parts of me I wasn't ready for.

I bled red confusion, anxiety, depression - despair.

I broke

myself

my honor

my sanity.

16.

I got fucked up for the first time.

Too much to drink, too much to smoke, too much. too much. too much.

I had a needle shoved through my nose, a ring replaced it and it still remains.

I don't remember too much

of being

sweet sixteen.

17.

I took a bottle of pills in one big gulp.

I succumbed. 

I struggled.

I survived.

18.

I cried

for the entire

fucking

year.

19.

My friend's decided I wasn't their type.

Too depressed,

too anxious.

Not happy enough,

not good enough.

20.

I took a hundred-something pills in ten handfuls.

I woke up.

I was changed.

Life become beautiful.

21.

I fell in love.

Real love.

I bettered myself

I buried the past

I believed in magic

for the first time

since I was six.

Perfection should not be searched for

When I was a kid, I never believed anyone if they told me perfection didn't exist.

In my head, it was never exactly an attainable object,

but perfection did exist, I just figured those who told me it didn't just hadn't found it yet.

I look back at the people who told me this -

Parents stuck in a loveless, frustrating marriage,

siblings with an outstanding cynical perspective of the world,

and friends, who obviously knew less about the world than I did, 

even at eleven years old.

As I aged, my perception on the good things in life drastically changed.

I was taken over by addiction, 

by horrible memories,

by a brain that was more interested in sabotaging anything that was good.

Some say I grew up.

I say I was torn apart.

Now, I see through the depths of the dirt and back again

was all that was needed to find perfection.

To find the one aspect of my life that made it complete.

My perfection is not a movie script,

it is not a song sung in the perfect tune.

It is not a sexy dress on a Saturday night,

it is not a sprinkler on a blazing hot day.

My perfection is a person,

who through their own life circumstances happened to fall perfectly in place with mine.

A man who simply by living has given me answers to questions I never even know I had.

My soul mate, who I didn't go searching for, who I never rushed or pushed into anything -

because I knew from the first time I looked at him,

this is what I have dreamed of,

this is the perfection everyone claimed didn't exist.

I will hold onto him for as long as I can.

I will hold onto my perfection.

I won't let it take you

To say that I am familiar with the darkness would be an understatement.
I know it as my best friend,
my lover,
my parent.
I know it as my downfall,
my poison,
my mental death.
I have years under my belt of the chaos the darkness has instilled in me -
I have scars, inside and out.
Watching someone you love be consumed by the same darkness is crippling,
almost as crippling as the grip it has had on me.
But I will try,
with guns raised and ammo in my pocket,
I will always try.
I rip away at every lose thread that I can -
IT CANNOT TAKE YOU,
IT CAN'T!
My frantic cries are no use,
the darkness pulls you out of my grip so easily.
All I want to do is hold you close,
wrap my arms around you and tell you it will be okay -
I know it will be, it has to be...
but how can you believe me?
The darkness is sitting even closer to you,
whispering all of the contradictions possible to every sweet word I say.
No matter what I try to hit it with,
it springs back into place,
because that's the tricky thing about the darkness...
it is always there,
it is always looming,
it is always calculating...
even after years of laying dormant.

Your High Horse Will Surely Falter

You stand so firmly on such shaky ground,
I'm waiting for it to crumble at your feet -
but even so, the fall won't last,
and you will never accept your defeat.
I've stood by you, day after day,
for the last twenty one years of my life...
but that didn't seem to matter one bit
when you dug into my back with your knife.
You tell me you love me and other empty words,
your tone of voice proves you don't care...
your heart is closed and so is your mind,
I doubt I'll ever find my way back to there.
Blood is relation but not a guarantee
that we will always see eye to eye,
don't tell me I'm the one that has given up
when I'm the only one that has tried.

Fire Starter

And if for just this moment,

I don't have to think

about a single thing 

other than your legs wrapped up in mine,

our connecting sweat,

and the immense love I have for you -

then let the passion ignite.

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.

She Dances in your Footprints

There's a nervous girl shuffling her feet
down the sidewalk with her headphones in only one ear
and a look on her face that either says "don't fuck with me"
or "please fuck me".
She has holes in her tights
and half a fifth in her bag,
the other half cycling through her blood stream.
Her hair says she left wherever she came from in a hurry,
her make up says she spent the last two hours in front a mirror.
She doesn't even know where she is going,
but she heads in the same direction her heart tells her she should.
The darkness of the summer night illuminates her pale skin,
the tears in eyes fall delicately to the ground,
and all she wonders is just how quickly it will take for her to get where's she going.