Don’t come any closer ( Read more... )

Before you read this, I want you to know this is not a teenage romanticism of cutting. I put it in here because it's something I occassionally during anxiety attacks, and it actually symbolizes me at my worst. I don't consider it a beautiful or admirable thing, and I don't show it off. Now ( Read more... )

Touch the muscle ( Read more... )

The cold, it deftly penetrates ( Read more... )

The tempestuous storm
of my personal weather
produces suicidal droplets
leaping to their deaths
upon my skin.

They crash at top speed
their unity obliterated
as they bleed
all over my pores
their martyrdom in vain.

It is in vain
for they are swept away
to be replaced by others
until their peers give up
resigned to my state.

And so I am cleansed.

Profusion of color ( Read more... )

Genocide ( Read more... )

Your sleeping eyelids flutter ( Read more... )

Sleeping to escape my dreams ( Read more... )

I was dressed for my living group picture, the theme of which happened to be gangsta, when I wrote this. Just a little context. It's also VERY slam style. One I'd recommend reading aloud with feeling to actually appreciate.

Look at me ( Read more... )