A Response to Publicized IgnorancePlease continue to mock usAs, illegitimately veiled, you discussThe ugly ways my body curves.You think it's me that this perturbs? Please continue to obnoxiously shoutRude questions of sexualityWhen I'm the one steaming up her car,And you may simply cat-call from afar.Please utilize to your abilitiesSocial media to dispel your hostilities.And complain to the world of deaf-by-choice earsOf each any every issue which, to you only, appears.I only ask that you read thoroughlyEach published sentence less hurriedly,For your grammar has fallen to lack,And, from these insults, it certainly does detract.
A Letter Under My PillowI have a pieceOf paper ink stainedBeneath my pillow,Without which I would be pained.It holds the onlyWords vital to me,And sustains my life,Though you may disagree.When I wake in the nightWith wrists soaked in red,I reach first for my knife,But turn to the paper instead.I only write thatWhich I need to live onThen, when it's written,It's that which I dream on.So on this paper liesThe only letter I want;In navy blue I wroteA "u" in scribbled font.Because you're the only oneWho makes forever seem too short.Infinity doesn't last (I know too well)And from you I can't abort.So I sleep with u each nightAnd talk with you all day;Even if you leave me nowOn u, each night I'll surely pray.
Youdon't anger at my flustering in Your presence!Your eyes are too beautifulfor me to think,because when i look at them,my hands, then arms... hell! my entire bodyis drawn into them,and i feel like i might drown in sweet, sweet chocolate...don't judge the awe surrounded by You!Your arms are too perfectfor me to move,because when they wrap around me,my eyes glue shut and... damn! my whole braincompletely shuts down,and i know i'm paralyzed forever and ever...don't upset yourself over my silent lips!Your tongue is too amazingfor me to respond,because whenever it moves,my ears, my hands... fuck it! none of mecan hear a single spoken word,and so, i become a deaf mute.don't correct my unheard mistakes in grammar!Your body is too distractingfor me to write,because whenever my pen touches paper,my lips... i swear! every inch of meis still attached to You,and the only one capitalizing my time is You.
ReachingThe depression continuesAs I continue to recognizeThe fact.Yes, the fact.That the hands are reaching for a bottleRather than me.They reach for a dream in a cloud,Which is indeed quite far away from me.While the hands appear to be reachingIn my possibly generalized direction,The wandering eyes steer me to their actual path.And I wait.I wait to see the silver rings on your fingersAnd the golden clouds reflected in your brown irises.And I wonder if I could everWear enough gold to shadow the clouds.Could I ever shine with so much silverThat your eyes flicker to mine, fleeting?I pine for the days when my skin was clearUntil I remember that it was always a clouded, milky white(which is forbidden).Don't be offended when you realizeThe hands are never reaching for you.They are always reaching for love and hatred.They are reaching for joy and suffering,Life and death,Destruction and creation,For all the paradoxes you could imagine!They're reaching for anything.Anyth
Plan of ActionI'll silence my cries with my silky-smooth knife,In hopes that the blood will bring out my strife.Because, without you, I can only wonderFor hours about my horrible blunder.I lie on my back with tears in my eye,Until they're all gone and I'm left to dry.My body is limp without the matter to live,Because you were the matter! I have no more to give.Please leave me be! Dare not read a word.You can't feel this guilt! It would be absurd.For I take all the blame upon my shoulders deformed,And to your desires I will have conformed.I'll leave you alone, in hopes you'll be happy,And try to refrain from being too sappy.But when I see your limp hand with nails shortly cut,My mind is a maze! I'll be stuck in this rut.Because I thought it was mine - your hand to hold,But now I can't; mine's white and stone cold.Fret not about me! You've made your decision,And, because of this, do not make a revision!Stay quiet tonight, high up in your bed.While alone on
Writer's BlockI have thought.I have thought and I have thought until I cannot think anymore.My brand new pen has hovered above blank paperUntil the crimson ink dripped from inside,And yet the pages are still white.You draw from me such a horrible writer's blockThat, even when I'm suffering, I cannot scribble a metaphor.The carvings in my legs are not artful enoughTo sooth my inner cravings.I need a tangibly painful poemTo cut the last cords from my chest.But I can't have one.Because, with you,I can't not be happy.Even when you chew me up and spit me out,I can get past it.I think?Because I'm with you, and that's all that matters...As long as I am with you?As long as I am with you,I have no right to complain.
Cutting RulesI can bring a knifeTo the tableOnly to grazeMy skin charred sable.I can dig tiny ridgesInto the crest of my thigh,Letting go of this horrible tensionWith a beautiful, deafening sigh.Keep quiet, now!Hide under loose clothing. Hide the scratchesAnd the ever-empty hips!Leave them all unknowing.And keep your Cutting OfficeClear of any blood.Because if ever a dropDecides to floodUpon the clean white flooring,The entire world may tread on you,All the while deploring.
Working Over a BodyIn most cases,If you steal,You should return the stolen item.But you stole my heart,And it's so damagedThat I don't want it back.Keep it and tarnish it!If you can find a place,Please stain it! Autograph itIn my blood!I'd be luckier than a millionaire.Or you could keep itAnd try to nurse itBack to health (unsuccessfully)I honestly don't careWhat you do with it,But it's yours for good.The only thingI can't deal withIs trying to patch it alone.
The ABC's of RealityIt isAn excruciating story to tellBecause the tale is factual.Can I refrain?Doubt recedes on my tongueEnough to let one word into utterance.Forgive me when I tell you,Gracious for your welded understanding.However much thatI do regret the slip, I am nowJuxtaposed! And compared to the others. I'mKept under surveillance! And, thusly, myLife is no longerMine.Now, it merely serves toOppress those like me.Prepare yourself! They may seemQuiet, but that is only forResonance; video quality alwaysSuffers withThe presence of background noise.Under surveillance, yourVeto power andWill will be revoked.'Xactly when you thinkYou possess your own identity, theirZealous nature will remind you.Are you a child?No.But they still own you.