I've been wasted all my life.

Smashed.
Teared.
Ripped.
Broken.
Crumpled.
Thrown away.

I've been dead all my life.

And I've waited for you too long.

There's no one left to save me from myself.

And I can't hear you underwater.

I wonder what would happen if I screamed.

Would I drown?

Watch the shadows.
Be afraid.
Hide in silent wonder.
Be transfixed.
Check under your bed, and behind the clothes in your closet.
There's never anything there.
But you don't want the one time you don't check to be the time when you are wrong.
So turn on your light.
Open your door.
And wait for morning.
Or are your not afraid of the fright?
Be emersed in darkness.
Close your door.
And wait for your doom.
You were never that afraid anyway?
I'm sorry that you can't stop the insistent pounding of your heart.
I'm sorry that you're shutting your eyes away from the dark.
I'm sorry, that you were wrong about monsters in shadows.

I want you to want me...oh, god, I do so much...

I hammered nails into her eyes. They bled. She screamed. I laughed.
Her hair, I cut it into shreds and pasted it along my mirror, so that I could be as gorgeous as she was.
And all the while, she screamed and screamed.
So I sewed her lips shut, so she couldn't speak.
Her damned words were twisting and screwing into my brain.

Another Sappy Poem (so sappy, in fact, that it may be dripping with some form of heart-mucous - Oh, no..wait...that would be blood...oh, god...I think I need a paper towel...or..an ambulance.)

I dare not blink.
It is only once in a blue moon that your eyes brush mine.
I dare not move.
You rarely know I'm here.
I dare not listen.
You may be speaking things that would break my ears (not to mention, my heart)
I dare not breath.
'Lest you stop kissing me.

I am...disjointed. *slurs and falls asleep*

The world just seems a bit better when you can see angels.

The most wonderful dreams...

Fuck Everything....And leave the world to die.

The world is a dystopia caused by dyscoria and your dysarthria, read in the book filled with empty pages of your discontent.

I miss them so much...
I really do feel like a piece of my heart is missing.
I can hardly breathe without spilling tears
and my cheeks are continually burning.
I can't concentrate.
I can't can't can't...
I need to relax.
I need them back.
I miss them so so so so much...

For Jesse Ca (I know, it sucks...but you made me write something..so...blah)

I sweep my way through the iridescent hallways, taking notice of nothing but my footsteps and the hollow stares of the drones of people that pass, huddled together as if to ensure their role in society, as mindless mass-productions.
I stop at the familiar floor and drift my way to my locker. This is that which holds my possessions? It fits the bland-ness to which it holds: textbooks, binders, backpacks. Our possessions are mere words held together by a spine. Are we all just words and spines? Do we have a lock to what we hold inside?
I stop thinking. I try, at least. And I look up, for the first eventual time, scanning, it seems, for hope.
Black visions fly my way as I tilt my head to his direction, my tongue already frozen from ice. Dripping, oozing, drowning. The black poison fill my thoughts, until I cannot think and my throat is thick with black and my eyes are fixed in one position and all I can do is stare and stare and stare. I can't see through my own insecurities.
And I wonder, if he, too, is seeing through the black.