I needed someone to tell me
I was beautiful
I was smart
You never thought to tell me
You let me fall
Believing the words of an earlier fiend
When I should have been believing you.
The day she diesYou can't cry,
You'll never stop.
You can't cry,
They'll see you.
You can't cry,
It's not enough.
What if this
Is the day she dies?
A secret in silenceIt's on the edge of my tongue
An urge, a tingle, a pulse
I miss you
I should tell you
Will you lie with me
But the words stick
So I just smile
With a secret on my lips
I love you
'We Need A New Coffin'She woke up the same every evening; cramped and irritable.
"For Drac's sake!"
The bottom half of her body seemed missing, for his right leg had been thrown over her hip during the day, and all sensation had vanished. To make matters worse, his arm had captured her movement, dragging her into the hardness of his chest. She was never the best first thing in the evening - she wouldn't be at her best until she'd found a warm neck to munch on - but this was too much.
Trying to pull away, she was faced with a new problem. His limbs were a dead weight.
Unfortunately for her, Demetrius was far worse in the evening. Not because he was known to snap a few bones for a temper, like her, but simply because he refused to acknowledge it was time to awaken. He was startlingly good at refusal.
She finally got away, jostling him with her shoulder and disentangling their bodies.
It was a triumphant moment.
It was a triumphant moment until she rolled over onto a splinter, poking up through the thin
We won't speak of the ghost in the room.I'm in love with the ghost
That sits here in this room;
Do not hear the words he speaks -
Lose the image I and I alone now see -
Neither sightless or soundless I know him
The words he speaks or doesn't
I love him
This ghost in the room
The Better Half of a RainbowLight flickers bright.
I watch it dance over
The planes of your face
Ghostly pale on the depths of your room
I want to hold you
For a while or maybe two
Press my face into your shoulder
Muss your hair
Just like that
Until your lips curve up
The better half of a rainbow
PhotographEven when I try to think of nothing
I think of you instead
I guess there must be a photo of you
Printed on the inside of my head.
stardust. (you're beautiful)he's
out of orbit -
dust in his
veins rise and
each word that
drips and pools
defined like the
ribcage of a
baby bird, his
were not made for
this earth but
for the stars.
some days he
fades in and
out of reality like
he never really
wanted to be there
on those days
i just think
my god, you really don't
realise how amazing you are.
Little GirlThere sits the girl with the things in her eyes
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well.
your poemyou tell me on a thursday that you can’t find
the god inside of yourself anymore, that
you think that you are finally
too much honeycomb and not enough human
because lately everything has been slipping
through your fingers, and you don’t know how you can
keep holding yourself together anymore.
if today is the day that you look
at the stars and you no longer
feel their burn beneath your bones,
i will show you the blanket i tried to make
when i was eight, and i will tell you all i know
about the string theory, which isn’t much, i admit,
but i do know the basics,
and that’s that everything in the universe
is composed of strings that somehow
loop onto each other infinitely.
so whenever you feel like you’re
walking a tightrope without a safety
net below you, know that you are
thousands of tightropes strung together,
and one fall will not kill you.
i have never told you about the way
i can feel my pulse skitter to a stop
in my wrists whenever i hear you laughing
Depression Isn't RealDepression isn’t true, my dear
Depression isn’t real.
It’s just a silly tragedy
You’ve forced yourself to feel.
Anxiety is fake, my friend
You wonder why it’s there.
But others have it worse than you!
Stop forming false despair.
Cutting is dramatic, love,
It’s ugly, and it’s dumb.
Why not just get over it?
Is the attention fun?
Suicide is stupid, dear,
And selfish, if I may.
Get over yourself, darling,
Can you hear these things I say?
Why aren’t you replying, love?
Oh, where could you have gone?
I never meant to hurt you, love,
Did I say something wrong?
Why aren’t you replying, dear?
Depression isn’t true!
Oh, but yes it was, “my dear”...
Just maybe not for you.
For My PeopleAs far as I can recall:
I did not ask to be birthed
Into a cycle of stagnation.
I did not ask to be told,
That my dreams are achievable;
Only to see them limited by the scope of reality.
I did not ask for a failing system,
Passed unto me by half-dead corpses wearing suits.
Nodding eagerly at one another,
As they wait for an inevitable death.
This I did not ask for,
And I am certain that most of you did not either.
But it is for that reason,
And for that reason alone, I say:
That it is up to us,
We siblings bound by the chains of our forefathers,
To create a system that is better,
Than the bitter shackles of the past.
Justice is what I long for.
Justice for MY people.
An Angel's Promise'Thou art mine,
And so thou shall remain.'
I will not let you have any other before me,
Nor can there be any after.
For it is your soul that I have shared
And it is your soul that I do take.
Your worship is the blood that flows through me.
Your praise is the heart that pumps life into my veins.
I have accepted that which is torn;
And if you are not whole before me,
Then by my will and word,
You shall be made whole.
So fear not this frigid world,
Though its cold bites deeply into your flesh.
I shall take that which has been torn from you
And weep life into it,
Until only warmth remains.
For thou art already mine,
And so thou shall remain.
To the Struggling ChristiansMy cross broke the other day,
snapped off of the chain,
and nearly rolled away.
I caught it in my hands,
though it nearly slipped through
like tiny grains of sand
I'm a college student.
I attend a public school,
Nine hours away from home
and my faith too.
There's no emphasis on Catholicism,
no morning prayers through the Saints.
No “Our Father” to guide me,
no Mary to keep me through the day.
In fact it's the opposite,
grace comes in the form of drugs.
The new morning prayers
are deadly smoke to lungs.
I've never had a problem with Sexuality,
you know me.
You can tell this by looking through my old poetry.
Though what I cannot stand
is when you feel the need,
to invalidate one's Christianity
because of your sexuality.
They're giving me reasons not to believe,
in long list like shopping recipes.
Telling me what I already know,
begging me to tell God to go.
It's not easy to keep your faith,
when people are giving you reasons
to throw it away.
Though I'm lucky I sup
it's okay to not be okaysometimes it’s okay
to sit on the floor of the bathroom stall
and let your feelings gather- it’s okay
to let them pool like a lachrymose lagoon
as the inside of your stomach does summersaults;
I know these emotions can’t be tenderly released,
they’re not soft waves kissing the expecting shore,
let them pour out of you like tidal waves-
release the tsunami from within you
and I know sometimes the tears will sodden your pillowcase,
they’ll be juggernauts- those brackish beads
cathartically-cartwheeling down your flushed cheeks;
but remember how even the clouds
may cry tempestuously today,
only to make room
for much brighter days
so I promise you, darling
it’s going to be okay.
Through The FlameThrough The Flame:
Can you feel it in the winds?
The chilling cries of blood-lust that sing through the air...
May your people weep at the destruction that is to come;
While you mortals cower behind your wards of flesh and steel!
How does it feel I wonder,
This question I ask
To those who have spent their entire existence
Amassing power over their fellows...
Know now that your paltry gestures;
Your pseudo-might is but dust,
Cast into the violent wind of a whirling typhoon!
Now, tremble within your hovels of concrete and steel,
For I am rage incarnate and I have come to ensure,
That your world will burn...