Turn the lights off

The sun is blinding upstairs yet the air is cold and harsh.

A light switch is flicked on in the basement where we were lying.

We had just finished inject ourselves a little cloer to dying.

Revealing cracked walls and spiders that had gone unnoticed.

Turn off the light.

It’s far too brigt!

The things I see, the spider webs, cracks and paint peeling.

This must stop for I despise this feeling.

I wish to remain ignorant.

Allow me my bliss, let me remain dumb.

Give me just this so I can always stay happy and numb.

Leave me in the dark.

Don’t say a word.

It’s better left unheard.

Mama

Particles of consequence pronounce themselves, pointing their fingers at me.

You beat and scarred me when I was less than three.

Why must I acknowledge guilt for that which I am not the cause?

I never was what you hoped for. I’m am not only disposable, I am parasite and desirable for termination.

I know you wish you had that abortion you tell me everytime toy’re drunk or just out of frusration.

Your defect daughter.

Your punishment and blame. You weren’t one of those girls, somehow I’m to blame.

We’ll never have any sort normal, loving relationship, we’ll always resent, get phyical. We’ll always be the same.

Look away.

We have nothing left to say.

…but Mommy I love you,
Truly I do.

Oh my, Leonardo…

Is one’s company a reflection of self?

Do we choose friends we see to be like our selves, based on personal qualities of which we are proud?

Do we choose friends based on quality? What we find desirable and we wish we had ourselves?

In the same respect do those we hate the most often bear aspects we dislike or fear to be true about ourselves?

Humans are narcissists.

We are so arrogant.

Some say the Mona Lisa was a femine version of the artist himself.

We all want to be seen. You are no different, my leonardo.

We are so attracted to ourselves.

What is love?

What is love?

I’m almost certain I know, but at times I doubt because this just has to be more.

Love is not an effective enough word.

You are everything and I adore your every molecule.

You’ve seen me at my worst and rarely enough at me best but still it’s me you’re with loved and spoiled more tha your past rest.

I doubt that at this point I could exist without you.

I don’t think I could breathe. I would not want to pull air from a world without out you into my lungs and if your heart stopped beating, I feel with certainty mine would too.

We are perfect, and we so fit.

I want to be your last, and always.

Your every word, breath, move and touch mean everything to me.

I need you in my life always no matter how good or bad it turns out to be.

Pretty Baby, I do

Pretty baby, pretty baby
Don’t leave me now.
I hear your “No..”
I beg for maybe.
You even though we both know you’ll never really go.

Pretty baby, pretty baby
You need me more,
Your pretty baby
I hear your “Always”.
I want more.

Your pretty baby
I want everything.
I want your anything.
I’ve never been let down.
You’re mine.

Pretty baby, pretty baby
Who else knows your darkest secrets?
Who else knows mine?
I need you too.

Pretty baby, pretty baby
I do.

This Which I Call loneliness

This which I call loneliness is cold.
This loneliness leaves the face wet and the heart starved…
and begging.
This loneliness never began and this loneliness will never dissipate..
or lessen.
This loneliness leaves a stomache heavy and the head light..
and aching.
This loneliness is lying beside a body but not feeling warm.
This loneliness is speaking to a face but not being heard.
This loneliness is crying softly but being resented for my noise.

I was born alone.
I’ve always been alone.
I shall die alone.

I resent the hope you gave me..
I resent the illusion you created for me..
An illusion I clung to that maybe for only a second…
I was not alone.

I am but a fragile fragment of thread on a sewing room floor
Useless, unwanted, meaningless
Forgotten.

This which I call loneliness lingers by my side.
This which I call loneliness never strays very far from the back of my mind.
This which I call loneliness resurfaces from time to time..
Always there.

This loneliness is cold.
This loneliness is bitter.
This loneliness cuts, bruises, burns and starves.
This which I call loneliness will be the congenital illness that takes
My simple, insignificant life.

Alone, the dreams you gave me sink.

Sane in an Insane World

Reason drips from my eyes.
It is a slow but steady drip like that of an IV into a sick arm. I’ve been hearing your whispers more and more frequently, whispers of apprehension, whispers of pity or concern, whispers of superiority.
Name your complex.
You think you understand, but you are miles off charts.
Assumptions are made, conclusions are drawn.
The world would be turned upside down if you were burdened with knowing the things which I do.
But that’s okay.
I am enlightened despite your labels.
And I would never turn the tables.

Touch my rigor mortis..

Is it dark enough?

Don’t you need this?

More is not enough, this is just not right, less will be too much.

And they pluck your life away, like feathers from a winged

carcas

I see rot.

Lilly Anne’s murder

Children searching for a flaw
Finding holes in scientific law
A body falls into silence
Pretty murder, unnecessary violence

Heaven is a weak mind’s comfort
and darling, your heart is black

Death has left an imprint at the scene
though many years from now it isn’t seen.

A tree is fertilized by the decay of her body

The tree still grows years after the murderer has ceased

And darling, my heart is cold

It’s an unconcsious affection

I’m unaware of your infection

Roots

Eating Stars

She shot down the stars with rubber bands.
She tried to cath them in her hands.
The stars- they fell too fast
In wanting to make it last,
She froze into a sculpture of herself.

She wanted something beautiful,
but she see’s now that nothing’s beautiful.
Art is still beautiful,
and everything is art.

She gathered the stars up off the street and put them in a blender.

She was visible in white light completely broken.

She mixed the stars with tea to make a drink.

She swallowed it down, she swallowed it down

Swallow.

Swallow.

You stupid whore, just fucking swallow.

She wanted to be beautiful.

Sometimes it hurts to much to think.

She threw it all back up into a dirty kitchen sink.