I scratch at my flesh out of habit.
The scar breaks, spilling crimson over my pale skin.
I did it again. I ruined myself, once again.
I watch as the blood drips down my arm, spilling onto the floor.
Another scar to add to the collection.

They tell me it’s okay.
That it’s worth it.
That I’m so lucky I survived.

I don’t think so.

I blink and the blood disappears, the only remnants of my past a long scar from wrist to elbow.

Every day I wish I hadn’t been saved.
Every day I absentmindedly pick at my skin, thinking, “Why?”
Every day I look at my mother, cursing her for picking up the phone.

Why bother saving me? I’m not worth it.

I’m unlovable.
I’m cursed.
I’m despicable.

I deserve to suffer and fade away, unremembered.

Every day I look out my window, thinking about the things I should stay around for.
Every day I run my fingers over my scar, wondering, “Why did I do this to myself?”
Every day I look at my mother, tears forming in my eyes and a thank you on my lips.

They love me regardless of my failures,

My thoughts.
My mistakes.
My sins.

They remind me I deserve happiness and love.

It’s okay if I die,
Who says I get to live?

You?
You with your insistent I love you’s,
You saying it only to hear me return the favor?

Who says I get to live?
Me, with my pestering thoughts?
My constant, lifelong anxiety?

Who gets to tell me to breathe my next breath,
To say my next word,
To sing my next song?

Who gets to lecture me on how things will be better,
How, even when they get worse,
There’s a silver-lining?

Who gets to speak to me with the wisdom of an unknown God,
Who gets to read me wordless stories,
Who gets to hold me on those cold nights?

No one wipes my tears by myself.
It is my own flesh that is wet with my own sorrow.
It is only me, that drowns in my thoughts.

So who, other than myself,
Gets to dictate my heartbeat?
Who, other than me,
Says I get to live?

I sit here,
Without clothes,
Without heart,
Without voice.

I sit here waiting for a life
A life that’ll never come.
I sit waiting for rest
That will never bless me with it’s presence.

I sit here,
Back arched in contemplation,
As I listen to the unlabored breathing
Of an animal unknowingly trapped in a cage.

She sneezes,
And the world,
Much like my heart,
Stops.

A blessing,
That’s what she is.
A blessing trapped in a metal frame.
A blessing that will be gone in time.

I sit here,
Writing a paperless book,
Hoping I’ll be tired enough to rest.

My constantly filling mind
Commands me to create.

I read heartfelt words,
Words that meant everything a long time ago.
Words, that have now lost their power,
Just like she lost herself.

Cans, bottles, and medicine,
All stacked around me.
One day I won’t be here to write, and contemplate
The things that’ll never come.

A rat in a cage,
A lizard on rope,
A being trapped in restlessness

Sticks, stones, and a corpse,
All things I think about,
All things that seem to be equally damaging.

Throw a stone,
Break my bones,
Throw a stick,
Thoughts are always stuck,
But show me corpse,
And I’ll show you something worse.

Five pink pills,
Half a tablespoon,
And four bottles.
What do they have in common?

They are all the work of someone trying to fix themselves.
But now, they find that hopeless.
One for the suicidal thoughts,
The rest for a stomach ache.

Which is worse?

If you ask them,
They’d say the nausea.
They’d tell you the thoughts are something that can be tucked away,
Even if they make for restless nights.

The sickness though,
That can’t be ignored.
The endless vomiting is much worse
Than the endless despair.

Ask them which hurts worse,
Thoughts or stones,
And they’d tell you the thoughts.

They’d tell you, no matter how much medicine,
It doesn’t matter if you can’t be fixed.

Before the tears there was something
Before the pain there was something
Before your fighting
Before your curses
Before you

Before you came around the world had light
Before you moved into my life things were finally going right
When you came I died inside
When you kneeled down in front of her I prayed it was a joke
But there you are, standing here
Years later

I wait for it to end
I wait for her to give you up
To finally say she’s had enough
I wait for you to get out of my life
But if I hate you, why am I feeling such strife?

I wait for you to say you’re proud
To say I’m finally good enough
I wait for you to smile at me
To be thankful I’m yours
But I’m scared that’ll never come
So I remember before and I wait for tomorrow

I’m racing at the speed of sound
Nothing is going to slow me down
I’m gone

Quiet as a whisper, quick as a flash
A flash of lightning
A wisp of light passes me by

No matter what I do someone is better
But I’m still flying
Still running as fast as I can
But it creeps into my mind

I have to go faster
Be the best
If I’m not the best than what am I?

I’m nothing

It used to be don’t be last
and feel bad for the guy that was
But now you have to be first

Be first and you’ll be happy
Be first and you’ll get the job
Get the girl
Get the life

But maybe I don’t want that
“Too bad,”
“It’s dog eat dog”
“If you’re not first, you’re last”

I race at the speed of sound, but somebody is going the speed of light.

What are we going to do,
On that one cold morning,
The birds in your ears and the sun on your face,
When you decide the rest of your life?

What are we going to do,
When in that hot afternoon,
So completely different from yesterday,
Where you decide where you want to be?

What are we going to do,
On that eerily silent night,
When we’re left alone with our own thoughts,
Here, the only warmth coming from our embrace?

What are we going to do,
When you decide to go our separate ways?
What am I going to do,
When I can’t leave you?

What am I going to do,
In thousands of weeks from now,
Standing over the murky water,
Knowing you’re never coming back?

Cry, probably.

Sometimes, it feels like I’m drowning.

And on this particular sunny day,
I actually was.

I was drowning in the noise from the endless cascades of voices,
Being pulled out further into the sea by the currents of flesh and bone,
Being smothered by scents and colors.

I was drowning in an ocean of teardrops and shame,
Bodies being pushed and pulled,
Wanted to touch something, but never each other.
Wanting to hold on, but always having to let go.

This morning, I was thrown overboard.
No life vest, no arm floaties.
I was left on my own,
Sharks surrounding me
As sorrow choked me and filled my lungs.

This afternoon,
I found some driftwood I could cling to.
But two hours of endless floating,
Salt souring in my mouth,
Birds biting my fingers and fish nipping at my toes,
I let go.

And tonight,
When the only thing around me was inky, unending blackness,
I surfaced to the see the stars.
I saw the Big and Little Dippers,
I spotted Orion’s Belt
I admired the bright North Star,
And it all reminded me of home.

The ink from my pen reminds me of the abyss.
It reminds me of all the thing forgotten and left behind.
It reminds of the darkness of today, tomorrow, and next week.

The broken tip of my pencil reminds me of things unsaid,
And things I wish I could erase.
It reminds me of all the words to come out my mouth, wishing they could crawl back.

My red pen reminds me of all my mistakes.
All the 60%s, the failures.
It reminds me of every little red speck of blood against my skin, when I wish I could be out of it.

The dog-eared pages of my borrowed book remind me of everything wrong I’ve ever done.
They remind me of when I stole cookies from the animal shaped jar,
They remind me of my vandalism, my rudeness, and my fear.

The person next to me peeking up over their computer reminds me of everything I’ll never have.
The things I won’t taste, touch, or smell.
The experiences I’ll miss, the people I’ll never meet, the apologies I’ll never get to say.

This next to empty room reminds me of all the people I pushed away.
All the friends I used to have but said goodbye to.
All the people I have yet to meet, and all the relationships I have yet to ruin.

Everything here reminds me of myself.
Reminds me how little I am, truly.
How big, and important, every move I make seems to be.

It reminds me of every day I’ve had to say sorry,
Every day I’ve cried,
And every day I’ve suffered to stay alive.

No one is here
No one is here
There's no one here

No one
No one
No body here

No one is here
No one's here
No one here

They're gone
They've left you
Abandoned
Abandonment

No one is here
No one is here
No one is here for you

Stranger
A stranger sitting in her seat
Who do you think you are

No one here
No one here
No one here for you

This struggle
No thought
No nothing
Why aren't you here
You left me

No one here
No one here
No one here

Stranger has left
No one left
No one here for me
Who do you think you are
Go away strangers
Bring her back

Bring her back
Bring her back
I want her
Not you
Not you
Not you

Picky picky
No one here
No one here
No one here anymore

The Raven and the Rabbit,
The Cat and the Crow,
What a world we live in,
With such a thing as a Winter Rose.

-----

Is God’s greatest gift the Summer Sun or the Winter breeze?
Perhaps its the ability to think and do as we please?

Who knows what the sun speaks of?
What the moon whispers?
What the stars gossip?

Maybe, if we took the time to listen
We’d finally understand,
The symphony of screams coming from their infinite mouths.

-----

Calamity meets tragedy,
Black meets dark gray,
All the same in the meaning,
Different in the color.

White and silver,
Corpse and carrion,
The sallow breeds sickness,
The blood breeds fear.

All the same in time,
Different in the endings,
What do we really know,
When time comes to a grinding halt?

I hear you whisper,
“I've seen better days.”

We're alone in a cobweb afternoon.
“I'm begging you, please.”

I know of sin,
What things did I see?

Hands held to the sky,
Flittering ghosts claiming life is a fever dream.

“We weep for all we failed to be.”

(God's Going To Cut You Down (Johnny Cash) and The Wolf (SIAMES)

The liar and gambler,
Each day, are hiding in the sunshine.

The shuffle of angels’ feet,
Dancing in the moonlight.

Call my name,
Await your mistake.

Throw your rock and hide your hand,
Truth becomes lie.

My heart stood still,
I can see the dark in your eyes.

Sneaking in the pain,
I want to trust myself.

(Vermillion Pt. 2 (Slipknot) and My Demons (Starset)

They don't know the feeling,
All the torment and the pain.

We are one in the same,
The song no one sings.

Take all of the pain,
Torn into pieces.

I cannot stop this sickness,
She's a myth I have to believe in.

I can feel you out there,
Save me.

Wonder not what God thinks, only what the Earth-Mother speaks.
Wonder why the flowers bloom and the birds sing,
Not why the man reads of impossible things.

Do not believe in what you can’t see, only in the tangible.
Wonder why eggshells are soft and why the waters are cold,
Do not listen to the church of all things.

Question the reality, do not chalk it up to one thing.
Gods, they say. No, they aren’t Gods.
They are elements; fire, water, air, earth, and life.

Everything is either here or isn’t, there is no state of in-between.
Calm your flustered heart and rest in the Earth-Mother’s cradle.
Listen to her stories of the ships and the storm.

The man in the moon has answers to your questions,
But they are nothing short of lies. Listen to your mother,
Not the liar in the sky.

Think of new beginnings and old ends.
Think of what astounds you, what confuses you.
Think of a world of possibility, if only you gave it a chance.

Believe in the earth around you,
Believe in the sky above you,
And the oceans that surround you.

Look not into the void, for it will engulf you.
It will give no satisfaction, and will not protect you.
It will whisper secrets, but it is not wise to listen.

Ignore the man on the cross, for there is not such a thing as sin.
Even with murder and hell-fire, there is not such a thing as a devil.
Only mankind, and all of its thoughts.

Pray at your altar of oak and stone,
And wonder why, if such a kind and perfect man exists,
Why would he give the children he loves pain?
Does he wish to see us writhe in our own skins?
To shake in our leather boots?
To treat him like a cruel master rather than a kind father?

Feel the wind against you, and taste the sun in the air.
Lay your head against a bed of roses, and suffer not,
For it is not thorns that press into you, but the soft petals and dreams of tomorrow.

Laugh with the crow and sing with the robin,
Worry not with the cat, and contemplate with the hen.
Create with the spider and fly with the swan.

Bask in the sun and sleep with the moon,
Soar with the stars and lay against the clouds,
Be one with the universe and revel in life.