12/27/13

     Sometimes I wonder if it's all really worth it, this inherent suffering that some seem to be born into.  If at the end of the day that one smile, or that moment that seems to light the all engulfing darkness even for a second; breathing light into the darkest parts of the boxes in which I have chosen to lock things away that weigh the heart down like bricks in a body bag.  Lighting  like a firework, before sparkling out of existence like the fourth of July in the Cotsco parking lot.  Is really worth living for.
     It hasn't left anything behind, I feel like that light fast and violent does nothing for me anymore. The darkness stays dark, something predetermined inside of me. As I begin to wonder if this is really all there is.
     Falling asleep without the sheets listening to sad murmuring of music with no intentions only to listen to the darkness because it sings the quite of the dark rhythm melody. I do not wish to lie on my hospital sheet covers anymore; they make me wonder if I should be laying in a real hospital bed alone with IV's in my arms trying to reincarnate the dead is where I am desisted to be.
     I'm starting to get desperate, with these haphazard posts and text messages made in half of an effort to save myself; or to be noticed that I am not doing too well.  But, I'm afraid that we see what we want, or what we're prepared to see. I just hope that when I fade away, finally. That people will not pretend that I meant something.
   It won't be long now.  No, it won't be long.

11/29/13

I turned all of my dreams off, but i've still got a ways to go. The images that keep me in the purgatory of sleep, feel like this great sadness that can be downed out only with pills. Longing for the days that will never come, I  let them soak into my mind to quite the laughing life that seems to be some sort of sick cosmic joke.
all I wanted was happy
inside, i'm sick. the corpse rotting from not long ago. As i lie here contemplating the belief that we're all becoming something more. What does that mean, is it some half truthful lie spat into our minds that all we do is going to be meaningful the idea that we are going to become something greater, something more. All the children who thought that they were going to become president.
Nobody wants to hear the truth of all you'll amount to is most likely mediocre.  Who grows up with the notion in their head that one day their life, unlike the television shows will be horribly askew, sleep is the only remedy to this great silence that's been building inside. Not even a slightly consistent wash of faces throughout life, all babbling what they think of worth the thought can get rid of this,

silence.

It's like it's trapped inside, and  time doesn't heal memories. They pile on top of  each other trying to blur the feelings that seemed to painfully alive at the time, they're still there. Just grown tired of being so loud and angry, like the scars on my hands from touching you.
I wasn't falling
Yet it seems that all my life I am constantly losing things, the people I love. The things that I once believed that I had some sort of admiration for, I still save bugs when it rains but not the hurt on my arms. Lost a thousand times over sleeping on the bathroom floor to hide from monsters, who are really people, that we choose to forgive. I think I miss my mind the most. Now who I am, who I was, seems to be an image cut out of static.
Never quite sticking to one form.
My life is filled with boxes of nothing, and god how I long for something solid that I won't ever allow to come.

10/13/13

Now and again I look back at the times we had, the way memory has crumpled the edges and
cracked the lines.
We cannot hear the voices anymore,
Like forgetting every day words,  falling into the hell of getting old.

Turning over the sold thoughts and patented ideas, of the sellouts we turned out to be.
But you've got sunshine in your neck now,
And the hallows in your eyes are growing bigger than the hole you've got rotting in your chest,
The birds that used to sing are missing.

Held up by the sadness of the void,
The possibility of a future that now stands in the corner hissing.
So cut off your ears,
As not to hear those numb noises and fit them into your chest.
Fill the voids of missing puzzles now long put to rest.

Trying to find some distinction of heartbeat, 

To whisper existence into the cracks where you can no longer sleep. 

The maddening hissing that fills your ears.

Now nothing in your mind but a guest,
You're adding more sunshine into your veins.
Fading, falling into the rest of your half lived life.
Building black ships.
But there are no choruses floating through these airways,
To push you away.

You and I aren't poetry,
These Faces like animals,
That you cannot communicate with.
I see you, and you can't see that.

Sometimes I think I see your skeleton,
moving without you now.
Filled with unintended silence
Of words that your tongue would never allow.

The poetic lust of a hemlock flowering,
Coupled with your maddening hissing.
Distorted by my animal face.

I fear that you'll see me,
Some day.

10/2/13

I have nothing new to talk about, say or do. I feel the constant talk of falling into the everlasting darkness that haunts the light just behind my eyes is repetitive repetitive repetitive repeat. I must be stuck on repeat. Going round and round the same ideals, day by day, stuck with the same thing the same thing the same thing. Again and again again again again sleep tired sleep weak repeat.
I am stuck
I am stuck
I am stuck
I am stuck
I am-
asleep.

9/30/13

I am so very tired.
I am afraid that it is starting to show.

9/29/13

God I'm getting old.
What a thought, the days that we thought would last forever seem to be stretching their last rays of light in my mind.  Playing mermaids in the pool, and Hayao Miyazaki week, and Reat, oh Reat. I am so scared, I don't want to lose that. I am so, scared.

9/28/13

18 years old, slipping into the void.
Talking all the time saying nothing, youth gone cold and shriveled like the autumn leaves, they fall spinning down into the darkness of faint recollections of a time once alive, something on the lips of a word that feels familiar like a memory you should have.
But now you sit at a bar shriveled and old a prime relic of the times past all blurring into one large distorted mix of blue and black, wondering if it was really worth it.
Gobbling pills that the doctor gave you, to fix what's now cracked and torn inside it's not working.
it's not working
as just how thousands have died so do the words on my lips frozen with the inability to decided on when is too far.

9/27/13

The current feeling of falling into the the dark hole that once held my mind rattles through empty streets and allies of the paper mache buildings I have built that once housed the things I called my own. And now it rains anger sprayed in no particular direction melting those cities into the sad remains of a third grade project I faintly recall doing.  Teenage angst at its finest until you find yourself all alone and come to the realization that all we have is our meted paper mache cities full of things we have killed, and killing things doesn't make them go away; it makes them dead.
Now those too crumpled and tossed in the corner dark blurs unable to read next to the glitter coated childhood dreams.  Life gets real, and so do we.  Turn grey and crumble just like the long abandoned cities. And so I'll break my toes as I grow sad and I get clumsy yet you're still too young to understand, how I am too desperate to be seen. So fall like fools for gold, that are now painted black like the cracks in a youthful heart just before it breaks. And it makes me want to be a part of that but like the seasons inevitably we have changed, into a swallowing darkness that plays hide and go seek in our minds it's only a matter of time before you find it, and then it's your turn, run and hide don't let it find you. All games are won or lost and I surly have lost mine, is this what it means to grow up.

9/26/13

The things that matter.

I can't seem to handle the things that allegedly matter in life.  And god damn I just about called it quits at 18, and I'm an honest woman.
 All I get called is a liar.
And no one will understand when I am gone. That's just how it goes, everyone pretends to have only seen the good. Not the sadness when you're all alone in your head or the darkness that rims souls.
And if actions speak louder than words, then my gaunt eyes and torn skin should be the most defining thing that you have ever heard.
But it seems that all of the worlds eyes have fallen out, so they haven't got a point of view. Only loudly voiced opinions on matters that they cannot see.
Oh, tragedy. How I have never felt the need for love, books have always been able to fill that void. And I'll be forced to face the fact that I'm just fine.
But I'm not. My ideals and points of view on life are so twisted that only the ones that have themselves been broken seem to show empathy.  And now I know that it's too late
And it tears me up. Not even my family has seemed to take note of my slow detachment from life. And sooner, rather than later, I will be gone.

9/25/13

bleeding into each others blood, into each others cracked laughter under the impression that you can laugh no matter how sad you really are.
Looking at those bones, a model from Auswich with bones like flowers they're starting to wilt slipping into the void, weekend visits more like prison, visiting hours not family time.
The city has turned blue the ship still hasn't sailed it's stuck in your frozen city.
Fill your belly with sadness it swells like the tide on a full moon, they're coming for you whispering like trees or ghosts their roots anchoring your ship down,
making patterns out of the cracks in your bedroom walls.

9/24/13

I can't seem to keep track of anything anymore.
Everything seems to be spinning out of control into a perfect haze of discontinued thoughts and half slept nights. The ideas of what I want.  Have long been lost in the repeated questions of  what do you want to do, and is that practical.
Maybe I lost it in those long nights, where the patterns on the walls seemed more important than anything going on.  Or in the dark circles of the bubble in questions that are constantly placed in front of me, never quite matching my own.  Maybe I lost it in the faces that have started to blur together in my mind, or the sleep that I continually can't seem to get enough of.
Maybe it was never there.
 Something that I created in the hopes of a carefree childhood, memories that you should have.  Covered in the adventures stolen from books.
There is a rotting hole in my heart, that cries out for the lost days and adventures. Where the time was never, and there were no days to come.
I don't want to leave.

Rumpled sheets

Love is something lonely people do to waste time,
And I will waste all of my time on you.
Softly breathing out your name,
And choking down my words,
To play your twisted games.

There is a monster in us all,
And it demands to be fed.
Tragically infatuated with my loneliness,
The more dead I have become to you.
Now come come kiss my lovely fallen mouth,
While my organs blue.

For there's not enough room in lonely for two,
But in this single bed I'll lie,
 Wasting time thinking of you.

have you ever loved someone. So god damned unconditionally that even if they have all of the terrible flaws in the world that you only love them all the more. And a part of you will always love them for that, and that kills you.  A love that rots you from the inside out.  Somewhere along the line that love goes bad, and it becomes a mixture of what stupid thing burned the bridge and boiling anger.  Anger that someone could just walk into your life and take a piece of your heart.  Oh but at one time you loved it, it made you feel alive.  At one point that shined so bright you did not realize that they weren't borrowing a piece of you they were taking it for good. And now what you took in return is stuck inside of your chest, and you can never get rid of it.  Something once loved will stay forever, no matter what you to do forget.  We all have these ghosts that love to haunt our dreams. So I hate you, I hate you for what you took and installed in me.  I hate you for leaving and forgetting to say goodbye.  I hate you for forgetting the sound of our voices.  I hate you for disappearing like everything in life.  Destined to go.  Life takes constantly.  And I hate it for that.  A realization that has left me utterly empty. I hate you and I love you and wish you to death.
Yet if you died I would watch my heart crack into pieces again and remember that everybody and everything changes. It all changes, no matter the effort we put in for that to not happen.  I wouldn't show up to the funeral.
Things I loved to play out in my mind, all end in death.  And I fear quite rightfully that will be quite soon.  The whispers of death are so inviting.

She's a kind hearted spirit,
That loves everything at will.
if you want to,
You could break her heart and watch it wilt.

People change and forget to tell each other,
Because misery loves company,
And this bed is made for two.

It's all fading now,
along the heavy footsteps
that now carries all of you.

You've got paper limbs,
And it seems that you're tearing down the sides.
I didn't understand the words we used to say,
But now I do.

Paint me black, for I am no longer golden.
And while you fall asleep,
I'll be swimming through my broken veins,
The poisoned blood inside of me.
Learning to say words like I mean it.

When I don't.

25

Oh,
What a thrill,
To be mentally ill.
The walls of sane thoughts piled to towering heights up,
So when the dark flood came
Moving was not an option.
When the monsters started to come out of the ground,
You.
Welcomed the new world.

I'll stay in your arms
I'll let you rewire my brain while I sleep.
But I've been washing my hands darling,
And I've washed my hands a hundred times but this blood is stained deep
Next time you steal  yourself a soul from the dead make sure she can't get away.
You could drown in those eyes,
As  I do every.
Filled to the brim with sorrow, with the tears of the monsters she's kept inside
I've been at home here
I've been swimming inside of that sea
And I keep your name deep inside of my dreams locked up inside of me ,
And if we do part that's okay because that's where you'll alway be.
So when they require my brain i'll do my best and try to keep you with me
And away from the confusion and waves of mystery
You will get lost inside the tides of demons
Falling deep into their chests no,
Left without your memory, violently rewired away from me
So pack your things darling where I'm going you can no longer be
They'll come for me
Come for me
I know that some day you'll be sleeping lover
And I hope that you'll dream of me
I know that I'm fading
I am no longer me
But our hearts still beat the same
And the demons still cry oceans of envy
Because they can't hear our voices anymore

They can't hear me
Floating in the oceans of a dead girls misery

Do you feel real?

It hurts that  I can't be what everyone wants.
Or what everyone needs
And it hurts that I can't even be what  I want 
Or what I need
Because I am not enough
And I won't be enough
And I'll never be close to enough
And I'm just so damn tired

                             i waited
                                               
                                                               i waited
                   
                     i waited

                                             i waited


                                        and


                                             you never came back.

If you love something then let it go,
Send it back home,
Remember none of this has ever been real.
Like the seasons change,
So do we
We all miss the people we once used to be.
So cling onto those memories,
not to me.

I'm so sorry.

I died ten years ago, 
Lost somewhere far out in the sea.
It pains me to tell you this,
The look in your eyes tortures me,
But you cannot save someone who has already drowned.
You cannot save me.

24

Dear Father,

 Did you ever really love me

While you watched me grow,

Familiar faces of rage as you drank 

Until someone else had to feel your pain.

Dear Father

How does it feel 

Now that scars have been left

And promises  you will never fill

Innocence of children better not 

Father,

Tell me how it feels.

Dear Father,

Tell me how it feels,

With the childhoods that you stole and kept for yourself.

Tell me where you're hiding them, 

They'll never live long enough to haunt you

They'll never live.

Dear Father, 

Did I finally make you proud,

While I lie sleeping
Ten feet under the ground.  

24

I loved you head over handles,
Like my first bicycle accident-
Before the mouth full of gravel and blood,
I swore we were flying. 

23

You could drown in eyes like those, 
And it seems that I am the one I no longer am.
In a cage in search of a bird,
To teach me how to fly away
From this decrepit place. 

If you are the one who knows best,
Then please inform me on why I am so distressed.
They're playing our song,
And I let you plant gardens of lies in my chest, 
Those flowers are still blooming. 

So stay away from lonely places,
Stay away from me.
For the more you grow up the more time you spend alone. 
And you know me I can't give up,
I'm drowning in the Deja Vu and I've seen these places before
I know the ending 
I do not want to relive this horror.  

Sweetheart, 
What have you done.  
They've come to kill our kind,
We are the last ones.
The rulers of long lost everything.
But a crown, like all.
Has its price. 

And now I am the hero of this story,
I am the only one,
No one shares my enemies 
 I am left alone.

The flowers in my chest have started to rot.
I cling to them for they're all that's left of you that I've got
alas like everything memory fades
The flowers in my chest now but a grave

Stay away from dead places,
Stay away from me.
There are no birds in this cage,
There is no dying race,
The hunt has been called off, for everyone is gone.

The credits have rolled,
The crowds are gone.
My sunshine,
My sunshine,
I have lost you and now you are gone.
When there is nothing left,
Life is a tedious chore.

My sunshine,
My sunshine. 
You are no more.

22

Sometimes I see you smiling
And  I think I understand
Why you threw away,
Everything you had.

21

A plane ticket can help you get away
To leave this hell behind,
But it can't help you escape
From your dreadful mind.

20

I have,
Fallen into the hell that seems to bring,
such magnificent disaster.

19

I think I've shut off from everything.  From friends and family, my own dreams.  Having fun, seems to be something of a distant memory. I go to doctors to make it better. To fix me, the shattered china doll.  Smashed into so many pieces that to assemble my broken head, seems to be an impossible task.  Why bother fixing something when you can get it shiney new.  So it seems that all of the dolls, with broken faces, and cracked limbs drift together. And make do without their appendages, not caring if something else cracks or breaks.  After all, that's the way things have always been.  The glue that holds our put together pieces together frequently get washed away in the ever persistent rain that stays above us, and we are washed back where we started. And when we crumble from  the lack of pieces to hold us up, we are labeled weak, and undesirable.   

How I despise that word, to get out of bed every day is something of repeated torture, when there is no light left in the lives we chose to live. Is strength.   I do not care what becomes of me, the headless china doll with scratches on her chest and arms and long forgotten dreams.  The dish water rag dress and once smooth hair is what the world sees. 

Now there is no time left to feel, and love has been cut out of my chest where the birds used to sing. Isn't it a terrible thing.  How life can crack us down to the lining of our very being.  Left laying in the dumpster out back,  waiting for the day when I can sigh my last breath. I think I'm alive, I haven't checked if my heart's still beating.   And when it comes down to it, nobody wants something broken; so I am  left laying in the gutters, my shattered remains long forgotten pieces of me.  Waiting for someone one day to see me as I used to be. 

18

People need to understand that, it does not matter how shallow the water is, you can still drown.

17

If you love a flower, 
don't pick it up.
Because if you pick it up,
It dies and ceases to be just what you love.
So if you love a flower, let it be.
Love is not about possession,
Love is about appreciation.  

16

Don’t be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life. You don’t have to live forever, you just have to live.

today
i am done
with breathing

15

I suppose my biggest flaw is that, when I am standing on the bridge straddling the line of life or death.
I am not strong enough to fall either way.

14

I want to cover my body in tattoos, I want to live freely.  A life with no strings attached, nobody to worry.  And  I Wish I could paint you a picture of what I see, because it holds such beauty.  The light falls down so slowly, and the birds are finally singing.  
They won't let you in.  It is something you cannot see.  The glorious worlds trapped inside of me,  Left me consumed with sadness, for it is something that even I can never reach.  The beautiful painting draining just from my reach.  So I'll strive towards it, I'll sail the endless paths across the sea.  Where the waves can sing soft melodies to me.  
The places and faces that left me entirely breathless and empty.  For the horrors of this cracked reality.  
Let me leak into those cracks, let me become that darkness.  Disappearing always seemed so easy.  
For one day I will wake up and this will have all been a dream, and that beauty in my head will be what makes me.  
For now I am trapped here, forgotten in this tight useless skin.  This life isn't a game.  It isn't something to win. And slowly I watch everything fade to black, the final scene.  What happened to the light, and the birds no longer sing.  It seems that I have drifted too deep.  To sink or to swim, or to be swallowed by this sea. 
Because this is me fighting,  I can no longer see my hands.  And the worlds seem to be slowly fading, I wish them to never leave me.  What am I left to but myself when these things are gone.  Please don't leave me alone, please don't let me be.  There is nowhere to go when there is nothing. 
I miss you forgotten faces.
You mean so much to me.  
Please oh please someone wake me up,
From this wretched dream.  

13

Goodbye means going away. And going away means forgetting, yet all we have in life is what we remember. All of those are the things that we carry.   So goodbye you, and goodbye me.  I'll be giving away these memories, and become what I carry. 

                                                     Nothing. 

12

We do not need a proper ending
because that would mean
that this meant something.

11

I'm not going to tell you that I miss you,
I'm not going to make myself look weak,
And I'll hope that you're doing the same,
Maybe that's why you won't speak to me.

10

If your soul leaks out through your body when you yawn 
And every time a camera flashes it takes another piece,  
Well my soul is surely gone.
Eaten up by ever sheet rumpled night
And dressed up picture day
Every half remembered midnight stroll,
Every forced family photo.

Then it seems that I am left to nothing
Just thousand days of yearning for more sleep
Left to grow sickly and pale,
Left with reminders of the soul 
Now lost to the whirl of time. 

9

She used to believe in innocence until she lost it,
left trying to buy some happiness. 

8

I've been erased from the picture.

7

I found comfort in my suffering
The result when everything has turned and left
I created a castle from the pieces that used to be me
Where I search for my forgotten sanity 

6

Sometimes I miss you,
The way someone drowning
Remembers air.

5

I am a tourist
    In my own life
                      
 Simply wondering though
          These faces
    And places
            
    That I seemed to once know.

4

If I  make it, to heaven, I may be as bloody as hell.  Can I still get into heaven even if I kill myself? Or will you depart from me, for I am in the wrong body, It must have been by accident. I have good intentions,  they get lost along the way.
Can I still get out? Or will you turn me down, I have love to give but it gets stuck in the void. And birds, they sing, trapped inside of my head. They swallow handfuls of nights to make shorter days.  The beginning  is the start of the end.
And every single world it echos, echos.  For those birds are long gone.
And now it's all broken, because we walk the wrong way down the long road. But I still remember how you smiled, even if your evil became a profit., and walked away from me.  In love with the idea of love with the idea in love with the vicious cycle of romantic tragedy. For the birds sing no more, they stand in the space between what is reality. And now  It's gotten late and now I want to be alone, for I don't want to know how it ends anymore.

3

I would give anything to be healthy, psychically and mentally.
It tears me apart looking at these kids who constantly bitch about not having enough. Because I want to be just like them.  You have no idea how much I do.  And I have tried so hard, but  I guess that life just isn't fair that way.  All I want is a family that can eat together at night, or have a brother and sister that I don't have the responsibility of raising when mommy and daddy get sick of being parents and decide to hit the boodles hard.  I want to be healthy, I want to be able to dance in the rain without being sick for three months. Or to be able to do things like a normal kid should have. I'm glad that we live in a big old fancy house, and that we look nice to people in the real world. I would trade all of that in a second for a happy healthy life.  I find myself saying less and less, doing less and less. Now only a matter of time before I become nothing. And I guess after awhile of being called something, It's what you become.  

2

I came to the realization that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t ever be fixed. And this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young, and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it’s already happened.

I've come to think about suicide, and how people say that it's the weak way out. How that person shouldn't have been so selfish or given up. I frown upon people who say things like such.We are all soldiers fighting against our own minds, and in the end most of us wind up breaking ourselves. It's a battle where nobody can see, and certainly nobody can see the damage inflicted inside but you.

I have recently gotten a lot of crap from my parents, most of it being along the lines of "Why can't you just be normal." I am sincerely sorry being myself seems to have developed into such a strange thing. I wish i could be normal, but this statement could be flipped "why aren't you normal" well take a step back and look. What affects you most, where are you most vulnerable in your life?

Your childhood.

And unfortunately parents of our generation seemed to have done it very, very wrong. Do they not understand that your children can hear you yelling, they see everything you do. And it affects them greatly. So when they call suicide selfish they need to take a step back and look at the cause of the problem. Every cancer has its starting point. I'll admit that I do feed my own sickness, I do it quite a bit. But do you think someone would ever choose to be this way, it isn't a choice to feel sadness as a default to every day life. No, it starts when you see mommy and daddy screaming when you are little, or when someone slips and accidentally hits someone, or you. And how that starts to affect you at school, acting differently because of the situations in your home, suddenly it's harder to make friends, and a domino affect begins. It doesn't matter how times or people have changed, that little seed is still planted in you. So years later when you have an issue with not being touched, because you're afraid that someone might hurt you. Or that you turn to books because they are easier to talk to, well it all starts at home. And world war three begins, you against yourself. And when no prince charming comes riding up on his horse to save you, that world gets a little darker. And suddenly the constant misery is too much to take. It was selfish of my parents, to take that from me. The chance of a happily ever after, always one more hill away. So when my light is too slight, to hold back all of my dark. Or anyone's for that matter, you need to step back and realize that that dark cloud following people around is pretty hard to miss. These things do not come as a surprise.

1

We are a combined effort of everyone that we have ever met. 

So much wasted effort. 

I have repressed self hatred.  Down to the skin that covers my bones, although I don't think that anyone has noticed. In fact I don't think that many people notice much these days, I'm sure that their newly purchased  app on the iPhone is much more important than the real world. And it makes me wonder, where are we headed.  Don't get me wrong I live on the internet. I'm a huge fan; It makes it so I don't have to talk to people in real life, and allows me to sit on my bed all day blogging depressing shit on Tumblr.  Which poses the next question. 

What if there was no internet? And I was forced to talk to, god forbid. Real people. Would my life be different? Would I still be a depressed teenager having a midlife crises, wanting piercings and tattoos that any adult would surely frown upon. Or would I have a friend group and go to parties, and someone in real life that I could tell everything to. As appealing as that sounds, spilling my guts to random people online is a lot easier than doing it to people that I know. Talking to a screen is one hundred times easier than talking to a real life face, and for some reason  people seem to care a lot more on the internet. I think it's because nobody goes on a chat room, or gets a blog because they have a million people to tell all of their messed up mental problems/past to.  It's because in one way or another their alone.  And when you find people, just like you all wound up in good music and anarchy, you feel accepted.  Except for the small fact that they live a million miles away. And that you still have to eat lunch alone in the library.  Yet of a sudden you start to open up to these people who are just like you, and tell them everything about anything. You start to think about them all the time, and start blow them up in your mind.  Suddenly they are everything you could ever want.   

And getting attached to someone you cannot touch is a dangerous thing.