Once

Just once I'd like to ...I don't know, feel loved?

Just once, so I can see what I'm missing. 

Empty thoughts

I was sitting in my bedroom alone,

covers balled up around my fists.

No one else had come home that day,

and I was in a particularly bad state of mind.

That's the day I thought about my thoughts

and I decided they were empty.

"Tag, you're it," says Death.

Pin-prick icy air through the fabric of my shirt

Snow falling in the edge of my vision

Shouts behind me to "Wake the fuck up!"

I smile. 

It's a barrier around my skull

A line between everything and me

Calls from around the forest to "Run, holy shit, run!"

I sit down, back against a tree-trunk

Branches pull at my hair

Snow melting in through my clothing until I'm shivering

I'm shivering

Shivering

No one stops to find me

I close my eyes and

let the world cloud over to 

a bright winter morning

until my eyes won't open anymore. 

A short distance

Barely, barely how slight your love
and as I am, it's hard to breathe
Barely, baby, soar straight above
these scars we sow are hard to see

Barely, barely, how long the time
and since we've hugged I can't keep warm
Barely, baby, this darkened line
across my skin is just my thorns

If you really knew me...

The fact is, that won't ever happen. I can be honest with everyone, but I'm still pretending.

I'm pretending, and I'm really, really good at it.

My front goes up, though. I tell you my secrets, and you're set. You think you know everything because I've never lied. 

But the fact is, the more I tell you, the more I'm covering up.

I was raped, I cut, I burn, I cry. I hurt, I drink, I smoke, I want to die. What could be worse than that?

There's everything inside.

And you're never getting in. 

We forget

Who can help but be upset?
We're all going to die.

Yes, but we've living too, you know.

Let. Down.

Once, just once, I would like things to end up happy. No, not things. me.
Just once, I'd like to be happy.

But tomorrow night I'm getting fucked out of my head.
Completely out of my head, and for however long I can stay out, I'll forget and things will be okay.
Just like he used to always say, "You're okay."
But those words were hopeful, not truthful.

I am not okay.

Slut

I've lost myself to the world of she's such a slut, painfully washed up on the shores of hey little lady, sand scratching into the wounds of the nasty little Ow, OW!'s.

Wolf calls and sneering and names and touchy-feeling. 

I've stepped into a skin I've never worn before, arming myself in the easiest armour there is to wear. And it's not fair for everyone else who's used to the game, because I forgot to read the unwritten rules. I don't know which side to walk on, which words to smile at, and who to love. 

The screaming and the pounding, everyone else is used to. The pain and the loneliness...everyone else has accepted and moved on from. 

Those lights at night on the street corners beaming, everyone else has sunglasses that I can't see. 

It hurts my eyes. 

I'm no good at this.

I only look the part; my mind's too broken to play it. 

What's on my mind?

Sails across the horizon, yellow green and blue.

Red stripes, white lines, water lapping up the side of the boat. I watch your choppy hair fall in short, brown time-lapses. Small freckles across your nose, a smile brighter than the sun. 

The boat rocks back and forth, a motion I've grown accustomed to being safe. 

You're laughing, I'm laughing, and we're sailing into the sun set, yet... neither one of us is happy, and we wonder why?

Because it's fake. 

You're dead, and I hate myself. 

I'm not going to make the first move. 

Black tights, ripped
along the knees and sides, cut
along the feet and skin, dirt
can't help but seep in, blood
staining your hands and neck, you
run to the nearest house, scream
please, help you out, they
lock the doors, no
way will they help you today. 

Terrible

Okay, so, I get it.
I get that you're all fucking perfect. That you know exactly what to do, where to go. I get that you've got flaws and insecurities. I get that you're happy anyway. I get that you walk the halls knowing where the fuck you're going, with friends and whatever-the-fuck-else-you'll-have.
I get that you have off days, where everything is utter shit, but... is it really utter shit?
No, well, yes.
But you don't get it.

I walk the halls with a slight limp, because the bandage wrapped around my ankle only absorbs half the pain, and I still feel the burning. I don't know where the fuck to go, even if I've got a map and a schedule; I'm still. fucking. lost. I've...well, yeah. No shit! I've got flaws and insecurities. I'm built of them, one problems stuffed and glued onto another, holding me together just-barely so you've got to be ever-so-careful when you speak to me, because I could fall apart completely at the slip of a word.
And...well, it's sad. It's sad because I don't really get it at all.
I understand you're all completely different from me. I understand you're all happy at some point, you're all whatever and that keeps you fine. 
But the fact is I'm not whatever.
I'm just...I'm...

I don't even know but I hate every second of it, and every time I go to sleep, there's no sodding way I want to wake.

Why.
That's my question.
Why can't I be fine-just-fine? Why can't I have one day where words come normally, and I don't have to think in overdrive just to say fucking hello!?
This is ridiculous.
Pathetic.

I'm terrible.
Fucking...terrible.

When you're tired the sun burns.
When you're tired the sun burns your skin.
DEAD GIRL WALKING - when you're tired, the sun burns your skin. 

And I'm happy

When you're happy the sun shines in a different way.

Back to the basics

Grab my hand and pull me along and say my name and sing me a song
and walk with me and you'll go slow and you'll jump up while I stay low.
Grab my wrist and start to run hold it tight and we'll have fun
and plant a smile right on your face and take too long to match my pace.

We are fleeting we are ghosts we are drinking down the coast
We are terror we are fear we are horror in the theatre
We are laughing much too loud we are giants in the clouds
We are dying we are dead we are living, go to bed.
We're not living we're not dead, we're all living in your head.
Just like dreams and just like films
We're all too grainy for the kiln.
We are nothing set in stone, we are paper, we are bone.
We are too cold for the fire, we are plotting, we conspire.

But we're laughing much too loud
and we're all sitting on a cloud.
We're all crazy in our minds
we're all taking up your time.

Mustn't see inside the book too far in to take a look.
Words are coded, words are feared.
We're all safety silent here.

So you'll be happy when I'm dead. 

Reality is...

There's something etched in the excitement of your words that I can't make out,
but I know it's going to be important.
This year is already set in stone and
I'm fucking scared.

I know now.

I don't want to talk about it.
I wish you'd trust that I can handle it myself
and stop reading this,
because it's not fair of you to shelter me.

You're supposed to be
my mother.
Not my therapist,
and anyway, I hate those.

Oursee

And in the fields
of grass of dirt
Of dry dirt, dust
of noise, of rust.
And in those fields
we met, we saw
that death, not far
No death's not far.
And in the dust,
we sat, I sat
And you walked up,
and sat, we sat.
And in the fields,
we sat by side,
mind-in-mind, we
would not die.

But sadtosay
you're dead; I'm dead.
Yes sad to say, we're dead.
But in the fields,
of light, of grass,
we met, and
for a second saw
that death was
nowhere near
us.

Kick the habit

Thwap thwap thwap
The blood rises
rushing red
gushing red
(gushing)

The strangeness forms blurry shadows in your mind, running
to the cuts and
wounds.
It's the "Are you okay?"
But you know
all pain aside
these were not their stones to throw.

Ivory

Green grass

the darkly attuned radio whispering

last chances four

us to speak up.

Green grass

the light notes of an iron-wrought instrumental

and we hum along;

we harmonize the pain just fine.

Green grass

staining the backs of our white shirts.

No complaining now,

we close our eyes and tune in deeper.

A greying frame,

wooden skeleton trough ripped wall-paper violets.

Forget-me-nots have no say, and

the building is abandoned.