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words

poems, musings, lyrics, etc.
this page is filled with words by me.
enjoy! c:

“pale boney hands laced with spiderweb veins
skeleton knees painted with scrapes and bruises
skin stretched taut over muscle and bone
crystal sweat glistens over a nervous smile

toes clawing at the loose earth
fingers clawing at dry skin
clenched fists collide with glass
get me out, i’m not to be trapped and scrutinized

awkward grins and skeptical glances
tight buns perched atop impeccable heads
false sympathy pours from their pores
as they pick apart my flaking skin

poison running through purple veins and drooping eyelids
three tons of stone tied to my delicate lashes
heart leaps out of my chest and bursts into glass fireworks
cutting my pupils and spilling liquid down my cheeks

i’m not good enough
never been good enough
how do they expect me to function
when my brain crumbles under the pressure of a shoelace

scared of everything yet acting so fearless
tired of everything yet bouncing off the walls
upset at everything yet smiling so wide
angry at everything yet forgiving outside

my whole person’s a lie
my mind masked by my body

silver tears behind golden smiles”

“we each impact people’s lives more than we know. a small gesture you used to do with someone can meld into their daily routine and become a habit that they repeat, a small, invisible piece of you expressed through their actions. a song you played one time through their ears can start to sound like your spirit ringing through the air. you can forget people, but the people you interact with never stop being a piece of you. we carry each other in our actions.”

“feel pity for the insane as they were once as sane as you and me. it was the actions of others that twisted their minds until it was so disfigured you couldn’t tell who they once were. it was the experiences they’d been through. fault should not befall upon them, but rather the treatment they faced from those around them.”

“sometimes i feel phantom knives tearing into my skin. phantom daggers stabbing between my ribs, phantom blades carving trails of blood down my arms. maybe it’s a projections of the struggles in my head imagined onto me as my hands itch to spill crimson liquid from my body. perhaps it’s a reminder of the past when drops of what sustained my life dripped from my wrists and from my thighs. either way the struggle isn’t over, not with the constant ghostly reminders haunting my veins and the strings pulling my fingers towards lighters and sharp objects. my skin has been clean with great effort, but my mind hasn’t.”

“i have a terrible habit of picking at my scabs. reopening old wounds that were in the process of healing and exposing torn skin to the open air. allowing blood to bubble and ooze up from my insides, spreading, rolling off my skin, dripping, and staining. it’s a bad habit i can’t shake off and a physical reaction to my mentally mulling over the painful things. my inclination to read sad stories again and again, watch sad movies again and again, listen to sad songs again and again. my body and mind are mocking me, saying, "weakling, you haven’t felt enough pain. you know nothing of strength, of courage, of suffering, and of endurance.” drawing a breath, then continuing, “it’ll only get worse as you go, pathetic child. if you can’t handle this, you can’t handle life.” and as i pick at my scabs some more i ponder how much more i can take, when enough will be enough, how long before i’ve got no more blood to let out, and if by then it’ll be too late to stand up to myself.“

"do you ever have the urge to jump from a high place? despite knowing that your bones will shatter and your skin will break, despite knowing your organs will compress and burst into macabre fireworks of crimson while your blood will seep out of your body, taking what’s left of your life with it drop by drop, do you still have that urge? me too. i want to feel my bones crumble and jut out of my skin, i want to feel my crushed lungs desperately strain for the air that’ll never fill it, i want to watch as my veins empty, and i want to throw myself into death’s cold embrace as if i’m greeting an old friend.”

“i scratch at my skin, i want to tear it off. i want to peel it off my bones and expose my veins to the harsh conditions of the world.”

“at age five
she used paintbrushes
to paint a picture of the sky
of the clouds and the birds
flying oh so high

at age five
they used words like knives
to paint a picture of pain
it’s like they strapped her to a railroad
with an incoming train

luisa
you were so young
hurt so much by
the words that rolled of their tongues

at thirteen
she used pencils and pens
to paint sleepless nights
it was hard for her to focus
on school and the like

at thirteen
mom and dad used their frowns
to paint disappointed faces
she wasn’t good enough
each word hit her like maces

luisa
you tried your very best
but never was able
to pass their test

at sixteen
she used a blade
to paint scars on her body
her thoughts fought against her
she thought she was nobody

at eighteen
she took a length of rope
and tied a noose with her hands
she put it around her neck
then forever left these lands

luisa
why did you hang?
why did you choose to
leave with a bang?

luisa
so broken inside
but you didn’t let it show
until the moment you died

luisa
i miss you so much
i miss your smile, your laugh
and your kind-hearted touch”