I'm Not Insane... Anymore.The voice who calledIn times alone,Soft and trustingBut unknown...The false eyesOf stuffed animals;Ripped out, punched in,And loved in apologies.The laughter towardsCrying, pained beingsWhose saddened lookWas so pleasurable.The dreams of murder,Of loss in evil hearts -Those who bullied meInto special insanity.
TherapeuticThe morning hoursAre mourning hours;As I yearn to be twenty-oneAnd drink my problems away,As I yearn for peopleAnd live for lust, not love,As I yearn for bladesAnd cut the pain out of me,As I yearn for the drugsAnd dream of high places,The mourning hoursAre morning hours,Is the lifeI'm afraidTo live...
A Thousand WordsSome say a pictureIs a thousand words,So what picture couldA thousand words create?
Stalker.Your steps were the softest. They were like an angel's wings fluttering against my skin - only, it was your feet against my bare sides. Such things only occurred, though, on nights worth ruining. Remember the first time? When the moon glimmered in the sky like the deception in your eyes, and when the stars shined like the tears that drained from my own. I can never forget the way your devilish smile caused my lips to pucker up. Doused in cherry red blood, they closed so as not to taste what sprayed from the knife gashing against my neck.Oh, my dear stalker, I wasn't expecting you so soon.
Two Shaken BottlesYou roll me up tight,Like those precious hugsWe have never shared.You hold me down so tight,And you cap off all yours wordsAs to bottle down my emotions.You then scream and steam,Bursting open like a pop bottleAnd I wonder whose truly shaken.
For You and Everyone ElseDepression and anxietyAre boa constricting vinesThat no person deserves.Any kind heart shouldn'tWish thorned rosesIn the minds of the innocent.And those kept distantly closeCan only scream so loudWhilst remaining as subtle help. So here's my call, Formed from every last ounce Of my being, And the worried energy Of suspecting others.
I Do CareLying in bed,With an inabilityTo shut off the light;Because sleep is sacrificial,When thinking of everythingYou could be...
Dedication to the MusesEven when I'm so lostThat I can't speak,It's always those wordsFrom a year agoThat lift the poetryOut of me.
A Star MetaphorDreams of the dark skyTremble at our fingertips,Avoiding our grasps,But never our eyes -For they are a shining hopeThat can never get lostWhen outside of our reach.