“It feels like I’m thinning out my soul, turning once sturdy cider bark into bargain bin brown paper bags.”

You love me. But your love, It’s the same love As the January Sun; An abbreviated afternoon Punctured with pockets Of cumulonimbus skies. Your kisses breed frostbite, Coating every syllable In a gelid timber. But I found something, Even if you are Just passing through. And it was enough For me to latch onto, Even … Continue reading “It feels like I’m thinning out my soul, turning once sturdy cider bark into bargain bin brown paper bags.”

“You held my hand, and through all of my ups and downs, you never let me go.”

But it’s not enough to say you just held on, because it was more. It was everything. You never loosened your grip. Even though I stopped trying and resigned myself to this bottomless pit that was my life, you didn’t falter. I don’t know how many times I fell down, but each time felt like … Continue reading “You held my hand, and through all of my ups and downs, you never let me go.”

“Tomorrow is where I placed all of my hopes, but I should have saved something, anything, to get me through today…”

It's never as bad as I think it is, until I take another look in the mirror. My stomach transforms into a pretzel as the realization "I can always get worse" really begins to sink in. The old scars are so faint now that if I avoid bright lights nobody could even see them. I … Continue reading “Tomorrow is where I placed all of my hopes, but I should have saved something, anything, to get me through today…”

“My breath is being forced down my esophagus and into my stomach, where it’s keeping my bubbling guts company as I choke on another dozen pills.”

I had the rights words. Sweetling, they were here, Careful carved into The chalky remains Of my soiled soul. The perfect combination, Equal parts desire and guilt, Cloaked in the allure Of a better tomorrow. If you had waited, Just through today, I swear I had it all.   If you ever find yourself In … Continue reading “My breath is being forced down my esophagus and into my stomach, where it’s keeping my bubbling guts company as I choke on another dozen pills.”

I’ve grown accustomed to my own lack of patience, pushing aside the reality of my short temper by hiding behind a mountain of excuses, like my insufficient sleep schedule or my diet of razor blades and a nightly bottle of pills. But let’s break that down to it’s pieces, shall we?

My sleep isn’t so much a lack thereof, but a world of nightmares that makes nothing feel like real rest. Every wall is a mirror, and my whole body is covered in bright red scars, and everyone I’ve ever known is watching me and walking by and offering help, offering hands and tissue paper and … Continue reading I’ve grown accustomed to my own lack of patience, pushing aside the reality of my short temper by hiding behind a mountain of excuses, like my insufficient sleep schedule or my diet of razor blades and a nightly bottle of pills. But let’s break that down to it’s pieces, shall we?

I’ve spent the past 4 years surrounded by nothing but noise, yet it’s still her silence that speaks to me the loudest.

She kisses with that glowing touch; A muted, thin breach of confidence. A kiss laced with smiles, Wrinkled noses, a million words Expressed in two lips Meeting over an exchange of hearts. The sort of kiss that fills you up, Rushes blood throughout your body; A kiss to replace the rhythm in your chest That … Continue reading I’ve spent the past 4 years surrounded by nothing but noise, yet it’s still her silence that speaks to me the loudest.

Looking at the past, you want to take a broad brush to cover the whole damn sight; smear it that turncoat black, that obsidian shadow, that unholy, ungrateful, unashamed shade of a world without a sun. That past… what a waste of conscience that failed my heart when it was breaking in two.

Why would things have to turn out like this, huh? Can anyone give me an answer that would calm me down, turn my radical sense of self-loathing into a more calm, rational sense of mild self-hatred? I am aware; I am a creature of habit. I fall into the holes of life not because of … Continue reading Looking at the past, you want to take a broad brush to cover the whole damn sight; smear it that turncoat black, that obsidian shadow, that unholy, ungrateful, unashamed shade of a world without a sun. That past… what a waste of conscience that failed my heart when it was breaking in two.