Can I try?

Each slow, shallow breath I take

Sends me closer towards my fate.

My mind races with my heart, and fails to refrain

From creating a never ending cycle of lustful pain.

I clench this knife with an ambivalent grasp,

Letting it carve into my flesh as I let out a silent gasp.

Desperate for comfort, the silence feigns screams

As the blade reassures me this in not a dream.

I give into each corrupt desire,

I give into my every failure.

Am I dead or alive?

Am I reality deprived?

Can I feel? Can I cry?

Can I simply try?

A Requiem

You bleed waning passion.

We watch it escape every crevasse,

Every pour,

Every crack in your flesh.

You grow hope in your garden of denial.

We watch them bloom into their demise,

As you have no water to sanctify them.

You sleep with cozening shadows.

We watch your every breathe;

With every inhale you let in your demons,

With every exhale you sink deeper in your quietus.

You smile with fear beneath your teeth.

We watch you force every grin,

As you lean to kiss your fear instead of me.

You shuffle off this mortal coil.

We watch you flee with a bullet,

As you give up the ghost and set your soul to eternal rest.

You lay on the lamenting floor.

We stare in dismay at your lifeless body,

I mutter your requiem,

As it shares a melody with the silence.

Welcome

Welcome to my inconsistent personality.

Welcome to my chaotic compositions.

Welcome to my perverse sentiments.

Welcome to my literary haven.

Welcome to the tale of my demise.

In My Mind

In the mind of the normal:

A razor is meant to shave with.

A bottle of pills is meant to be stored up high.

A bridge is meant to be walked across.

A bathtub full of water is meant to be jumped into.

A full plate is meant to be eaten.

A passing train in meant to be waved at.

A rope is meant to hold a piñata.

In the mind of the empty:

A razor is meant to numb the pain.

A bottle of pills is meant to be swallowed.

A bridge is meant to be jumped off of.

A bathtub full of water is meant to hold a breathless body.

A full plate is meant to be thrown away.

A passing train in meant to be walked in front of.

A rope is meant to become a noose.

In the mind of the artist:

A razor is meant to intrigue.

A bottle of pills is meant to numb the mind.

A bridge is meant to be over water.

A bathtub full of water is meant to be still.

A full plate is meant to be overwhelming.

A passing train in meant to be lit up.

A rope is meant to hold up my hope.

I sulk. I sit. I wait.

I sulk. I sit. I wait.

For a day without pain, without regret, without  fear.

For the day when I am no longer isolated within in my own mind.

For that day when my war has been won.

I sulk. I sit. I wait. 

I hope to one day greet this day, for my bleeding heart yearns for this reunion.

The day has still yet to show, and my strength is growing thin.

I sulk. I sit. I wait.

This hope I still hold looks an awful lot like fear. 

                                        When will this day come?

For it looks like that day to never come.

I sulk. I sit. I wait.

For I realize that day is not too far away. 

Oh, Precious Pain

Oh, precious pain,

How you force me down with your everlasting chain.

How I never cease to try to escape your grasp in vain.

How I find your allure ironically addictive;  ‘tis only you I hope to gain.

Oh, precious pain,
How you are surely my bane.

How you will forever be my biggest blood-red stain.

How you are the cause for my lesser hope, ‘tis now on the wane.

How you have surely driven me insane.

Oh, precious pain,

How I beseech you to rid me from my mortal duties, do not refrain.

Just promptly carry me to His anodyne domain.

Oh, precious pain.

What do you dream about at night?

What do you dream about at night when you’re all alone in your bed?

All alone at night.

Do you dream about dreaming,

Only reaching for success within the depths of your sheltered hallucinations?

The hallucinations never end.

Do you dream about death,

Only to be disillusioned when you awaken every morning?

Sleep serves merely as your temporary demise.

Do you dream about love lost,

Only to become disheartened when you can’t even find it in that black hole you call your mind.

Love will never find you.

Or do you just never dream at all?

Because that would simply be the worst of all.

What do you dream about at night?

That Feeling...

That feeling of wanting despite not needing;

That feeling of endless, agonizing pain despite efforts to heal;

That feeling of pure emptiness despite being physically whole;

That feeling of loneliness despite being surrounded by others;

That feeling  of shame despite no one knowing what you’ve done to yourself;

That feeling of hopelessness despite knowing it will get better;

That feeling of weakness despite the eternal  determination;

That feeling of uncertainty despite knowing exactly what’s wrong;

That feeling that's illogically logical. 

Bleeding

Tears rain down, staining my shirt a crimson red.

Like a waterfall of agony, it drowns me.

I lay silently, suffering in my bed.

The tears won’t clot, I’m lost in my ruby sea.

Each burgundy tear slides down my pale frame,

Causing my skins subtle twitching.

Trapped In My Addiction

Hope has found me but I won’t let it in.

I’ve shut my windows and locked my doors.

I’ve trapped myself in my own mind, no escape.

And now I’m running out of air.

I hold my breath,

I like the darkness.

Addicted To The Sadness

Addicted to the sadness,

I am chasing the darkness

As the silence screams.

In search of precious pain,

My beaten heart thirsts to gain

failure.

Lost in my own misery,

I have forgotten how senseless death, 

How precious life.

You fail to see my passion snapping,

As I smile at your command.

Dead inside already,

I am empty and unsteady.

You see what I show,

But no one shall really know

What thoughts I conceive,

Nor what feelings I possess.

For if you really knew,

You’d be in tears.