Words..

I am not a writer. I am not a poet. I cannot conduct words to impress others and leave them breathless. I do not use words. They use me. They mutilate me and rip me to shreds, dissembling my parts. Words will follow me wherever I go, but I will never truly be more than an acquaintance with them. They will line the marble above my grave and rest on the lips of those who want to remember me. They lie as parcels in my mouth, knocking around between my teeth, slipping out clumsily to fall to the ground and never into ears that will listen and hear me.
Tonight there are words sitting as wet cement somewhere between my stomach and large intestine, slowly multiplying and I am sure that by the time a boy calls me tonight, they will have reached my mouth and hardened right up. This boy will throw his words at me, letting them fall heavily at my feet, clunkclunking like a car engines and plastic spoons. He will talk at me, but never with me. We will not share our words between us carefully and quietly, instead I will be bashed into my bedroom wall with words that don't mean anything to me.
The girl who called herself my best friend for years now likes to string words around her fingers and place them along the ridges of my back, pressing them into me and forcing me to listen. The words only dig deep holes, so I pick up words I find along the streets and at people's feet, shoving them into the corners of my spine.
I am prepared for the words that will assault me tonight. I know how they will peel back my edges. I can already feel them swelling so great in my room that they will soon break the windowpanes and crush me to death. I will hear words that sound something like, "This just isn't working out," maybe followed by the nice little phrase, "I just don't have enough time,". or maybe he will fish something out about how "You're too uptight for a guy like me," which can also be heard as, "You're not like me as much as I though,". The words will crash against my slender frame and follow me everywhere as a reminder that I can never conquer them.

Letters of Freedom.

A young man,
Sat alone in a box,
Made of his own doubts and fears.

Each day he threw,
A paper plane outside,
Watching as the wind took it home.

The planes were,
Really letters he wrote,
To any voice that would listen.

One day a reply was sent,
In the same way his letters took flight,
And the message was by a young lass name Rem.

More letters took flight,
As back and forth the two spoke,
With wings formed from oak's bark.

Soon another girl,
Also added her letters,
To the flights sea of flow.

Her name was Ren,
And her friend Mary joined,
Each day the three sent the young man news.

How the city was,
How the sky was such a bright blue,
And how the water that rested by the city port looked so new.

One day as he threw the letter,
His step was one to far and with a slip,
The young man collided with the edge of his seal.

The wall did not kill,
The wall did not hurt,
The wall did not maim.

Instead the man's hands,
Met the greener grass's warmth,
And standing before him were three girls he did not know.

Each held a letter in his hands,
It was the first he had sent by paper wings,
All three spoke at once, "Free me, Know me, Forgive me."

In reply they flipped the paper over,
And began to speak in chilling tone,
"You are Free, You are Forgiven, and you must say Hello."

With a smile on his face,
He stood up from the grass,
And opened lips dry and chapped.

"Hello."

Better Than Pity.

It appears in an immoral decision,
It's he's so terrible, how is it
that he seems to fix everything in his
lack of care?
And I know that the blue-eyed one knows,
he knows what I've done, he knows how
weak I am to that detached smile.
Is it okay to feel guilty?
When he was the one to be unfaithful first.
I can see it behind my eyes, addictive memories
that confuse me as to whether I should
be glad to remember them or not, whether I
should or should not smile when I see
grey eyes staring into my soul.
One says he's going to destroy me.
Another says he's going to help fix me.
And the truth is that, though I fear rejection,
it's the fear of being alone that hits
me the hardest. It's the fear that shadows
will spill from under my door and consume
me, the fear that if I'm left alone, my
mind will unravel and I'll be at the
mercy of a masked monster of hatred.
I'm scared of my own mind being left
to make up it's own horrors to kill me.
And I hate the look of pity those blue
eyes give me becuase of it. I hate it.
The only thing I get from that
emotionless one is mocking laughter.
Laughter that makes the fear give way to
shame for feeling so scared.
It's better than being pitied.

Use Me.

Use me completely,
And make me break as you see fit,
For I am trapped inside your wall for you alone.

Though hooks dig,
Into my limb words flow,
And one million truths I will speak.

One million things,
You'll need to know,
And so many you'll want to never hear.

With all of this,
I'll add a haunting warning,
As the blood drains into the floor.

"I will die someday,
And you will follow suit on another,
Yet both will shed tears of sapphire hue."

Use me completely,
And draw me thinner still,
For no god may enter here.

My soul protects this home,
With my blood drained into it's walls,
All lightning I reject from divine source to retort.

Spreading thinner,
The skin is worn tight,
And the hooks grow rusty.

Once more I repeat,
All the truths I can spill,
And the haunting hymn like warning

"I will die someday,
And you will follow suit on another,
Yet both will shed tears of sapphire hue."

Use me so fully,
That I cannot ever say no,
Even as the thread goes tighter than it should.

Hooks are scarlet,
Draining all that is me,
As the words flow so freely.

Break me so fully,
You alone are master,
And you alone are divine.

All who deny,
Are rejected from entry,
And may never hear the truth.

Snap the body falls,
And hands are stained,
With the smell of copper rust.

Once more,
With the final cord,
Do the words repeat.

"I will die someday,
And you will follow suit on another,
Yet both will shed tears of sapphire hue."

Breathe Like You Bleed.

I want to feel his hands around my throat
Pressing me down until I finally choke
Prove to me that I don't need the air I breathe
Prove to me that all I really need is you to hold me
I want to feel his hands cutting off my air supply
Preventing me from telling even more lies
Prove to me that I don't need my voice to speak
Prove to me that you don't really even need me
I want to feel his hands strangling me
Protecting me from the toxins we all need
Prove to me that you can help me escape the idiocy
Prove to me that I can live somewhere above reality
I want to feel his hands around my throat
Pressing me down until I finally cease to choke

The Story of Us

The story of us doesn't seem that long.
But that doesn't mean that it's meaning is lost.
Some people would say that this story is wrong.

But it's just so right. I just can't put down this book.
All the emotions in this story has me, well hooked.
As I turn each page and my eyes takes in all the words
I can't wait to know what happens next.

Where will this story take us to
A movie, a play or maybe even your place?
Or how about a beach were we can just enjoy the view.
This story is starting to make my heart race.

I don't want to finish this book too fast
So I guess I'll let the story of us take it's course.
I hope this will last.

Insomnia.

I'm terrified,

To wait alone.

Here's the truth,

My cover blown.

I cannot sleep,

Or stay awake.

There's more caffeine,

And pills to take.

Up and down

Here I go.

Massive waves,

Pulled undertow.

Please release me,

Far from here.

From every loved one,

I once held dear.

Sleepless nights,

Spent alone.

Are no less scary,

When I'm grown.

Every monster,

Under my bed.

Was truly real,

I wasn't misled.

I wish you'd stay,

But I know you'll leave.

Another lie,

My heart deceived.

I'm too afraid,

To stay awake.

There's more caffeine,

And pills to take.