Sunday, December 12, 2010


Thick white smoke coils atop my coffee cup, like whisps of hot breath against snowfall, curling from lips and tongues in graceful disarray. It sits on the foam a while, then evanesces into the warmth of my room, never to be seen again. Such a quick life it lives. Short and meaningful, just like our love. I sit, perched high upon my throne in the library, emptying my brain of thoughts that seem to ramble on into the great abyss of forever and nothing. I think of you sometimes, in this, my quiet reverie. You were destined to cross my mind I think. Destined to slip into the cracks of my soul, flow into me somehow, like a babbling brook, forever singing in the back of my mind.

I sit at my royal desk, prepared to write you a letter that I can only hope you'll read. I pray you allow your sight to caress this thick, heavy, creamy parchment as only your eyes can. The words I scrawl mean nothing to the innocent passerbyer, but to you and I, words once meant everything. They pulled the silver orbs from the sky, roped and ripped from orbit. They made things flow, made them beautiful in a grotesque sort of way. They also caused great silence at times, words having been drained from our throats. Everything having been said, sometimes too soon.

I scribble and scramble to make this letter meaningful. To make it count. This is my one shot at connecting to you again. Yet, somehow, I feel that I already am connected to you.

Like Christmas lights strung together, we too, are strung together in life and beyond. The tips of your fingers, like the tip of your tongue, has left a blatant imprint upon my soul and body, both scarred and weary. You too were scarred and weary. Worn from too much. Too many nights of innocent rendevouz. Too many glasses of whiskey followed innocently by a smooth, white cigarette that burned down too quickly. Too many nights of scorching hot passion that ensued after our wagging tongues sparked and became roaring fires of red-hot anger that we spat at one another in the dark.

Yes we both have lived through far too much, and when the great blackness of eternal sleep creeps stealthily upon us and woo's us just a little too well, and we give into it, we both wake the next morning to find it just like a lover that's slipped out of our grasp in the night. Gone. Thus, we pick up and move on, waiting for the next calloused moment that drips with the delight of freedom from this life to come along and woo us yet again. We spend hours, minutes, months, days, weeks writing about it. Obsessing about it. Daydreaming about it. We fill our days with wicked poetry and dark music, thick and rich with suicide. Yes, we are the muses of death and destruction. We are infected and infect others with our sweet disease. We bring the masses to the edge of our favorite abyss that leads into nothingness. Pure, golden nothingness.

I swallow the last of my creamy coffee and mail the letter, knowing now that you will read it, and call me because this is what we do. We wrap around one another like fancy, heavy ribbon wraps around colored packages at Christmastime. We are all alike and as I said before, strung together somehow. I return to the mess of my library and wait for your call.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Winter Suicide Part 1

Dawn -
The thick, lead-heavy bones in my legs are
shaking. I am running at breakneck speed
to the end of this maze. Ivory flesh melts
into the background of twisted black trees
and the pale glittery diamonds that have
fallen upon them.

I seek a knowledge that sits at the back of my throat like vomit.

I am dreaming, yes, that must be it. I am
simply dreaming. This white cotton dress
belongs on the frail body of one who is at home,
long gone into the world of dreams and subconscious
realities. My skin, stretched taut from the cold, is
not really turning blue. These boots, these black
little boots are really snug in the foyer of my home.
I am home...right?


I am running, pacing, manic with energy and need. It
is feral and wild like a hungry wolf, that threatens to eat
my soul like a tepid-tempered little doe.
I stop, breathing heavily, breath white like smoke
off of the lake to which I am headed. My lake.
They promised. Promised me. Promised me
that this treatment would work, that I would
be a whole person again. No longer a shattered
empty-headed, vacant-eyed vagabond who
had no place to call their own. They promised
the demons that come to call would never call again.
Yet here they are.

Their red-eyed hatred of me pours like blood
from a fresh wound upon the wrist of life. I am
desperate for salvation. So I seek my God, my
suicide God to save me yet again. I have prayed to
him many times, yet he never came to my rescue.
This time, I shall seek and find.

The crystal lake spreads out before me. A testament
to God's own handiwork, creating the Earth. Its beauty
captivates and stills my hurt and beating heart for a
moment in time. The cold is beginning to numb my body.
I find a branch. It's time. Time to end this madness that
noone can seem to cure. This disease of the mind, body and
soul. I break open a piece of the frozen lake and watch
the tiny swirls of water circle down below me.

I am going to be free.

Winterland Reflections

Freshly fallen snow lies in blankets before me,
warmed but only slightly by the sun that clings
to my jacket in glimmering waves.
The mixture of breath and cigarette smoke coils
around my eyes like fire from a dragons tongue.
I breathe for you.
The morning sun is rising in this, our winter wonderland,
and you, still and napping beside me, are starting to
The previous night's activities flow through
my mind, like the frozen brook over yonder flows
when Spring rolls around, finally. A balmy breath of
warmth for this frozen land.
My hands, furry, spiky objects of white and blue,
spread before me beneath the honey-lemon sunlight,
that soaks them through and through.
On one hand, a ring, a testament of your eternal
love for me, and the other, a scar, a testament of
my eternal damnation within the nightmare of my mind.
The golden orb fades from sight as the thick, black, twist
of branches overtakes the sky from my point of view.
I look upward to see three cardinals nesting,
silent and happy in their humble abode between two angles
of the black licorice tree.
I toss my cigarette into the snow.
Somewhere in the distance I hear your voice calling me back,
back to happiness and home where we sometimes pretend,
albeit poorly, that we are perfectly fine and happy,
just like the cherry red cardinals in the tree.
I turn about face and crunch through the glittering
snow back to our home. I see you standing there,
warmly smiling with your morning cup of coffee in hand,
waiting for me. I smile back. Perhaps this time, I
have finally gotten it right.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010


I am a ragdoll.

My knees are sewn together carelessly,
My heart is threaded together inside but just barely,
On my stuffed face are little button eyes,
They should have embroidered on the million tears I cannot cry,
But don't think they are not there,
Behind my happy, fake stare,
My throat has stitching upon it and I fear,
If I had been real it would be a tattoo that says "Cut here,"
Just because I smile all of the time,
Doesn't mean I don't scream perpetually inside my mind,
At night when everyone is asleep in bed,
I take the scissors to the first tiny thread,
That holds my satin heart inside my chest,
Clip, snip, rip...and I play with it, it's the part of me I like best,
Sometimes I pretend that it really beats,
Pretend it's really warm with heat,
But I know in my head that it's always been cold,
From the moment I was made to the moment I was sold,
*This poem is not finished

Monday, November 22, 2010


I stand patient and silent in the sedative line,
I am dumbed down to your preferred level of stupidity
and controllability, until there is so little left of me that I
am amazed at how I am even functioning.

Next! the head nurse calls out, I step forward slowly, swallow
my pills and drink the water, sticking out my tongue to show
her what a good girl I am, she lets me leave while the pills drop
into the bile in my stomach to dissolve. Dissolve like my hopes and dreams.

Madness: it creeps into the brain like a slow-working posion,
drips through your veins like morphine in an IV. It wraps itself
around your brain and hooks itself behind your bones. Suffocating
you from the inside out. It slowly discintegrates your self-confidence
and your sanity while telling you that you need it because it's "all
you've ever really known." Which is a crock of shit.

Nevertheless, there you are, swallowing pills from a bottle,
buying razors to slit your wrist with, pulling the trigger, and
then there you are, in the fucking psych ward of some
delapidated hospital from hell. People telling you to
do your ADL's and circles from schema therapy. You are
nothing more than a zombie at that point, because your
suicide attempt failed. You failed at life and now you're failing
at off-ing yourself. Can you do nothing right?

So, with yet another hit to your self-confidence, you stand in the
sedative line, swallow your pills, and lay on the cold, starchy matress,
and try your best to get back to a normal sort of life, hoping and
dreaming and, God forbid, working a job. All the while wondering about
the next time you'll swallow the pills or slit the veins of your wrist.
Because that's the destiny of the insane. Once you've given up on
life the first time, you find it easier to give up than to go on. It
just seems too easy to swallow the pills, hoping that this time, it'll be the
last time.

There's Blood

There's blood on the bedsheets,
There's blood on my hands and feet,
I wipe them carefully down my white dress,
& I must confess,
I am beautiful...
There's blood down the sink,
I think,
I may have cut to deeply this time, beginning to rewind,
I am so cold...
There's blood on the floor,
I turn my wrist and spill a bit more,
Now it's in my hair,
But what do I care?
I am drenched...
There's blood on the walls,
Down through the halls,
I rip at my flesh, down to the bone,
Nobody's home,
I am repentant for my sins...
What comes after this?
Is it bliss?
Or an affair of pergutory?
Perhaps just blackness for the likes of me,
I am setting myself free...
There's blood in the water in the tub,
So much for forgiveness and love,
They were both just a crock,
I never had a shot,
I am a failure it seems...
There's blood everywhere,
When they find me in here,
Cold and white from the loss,
I showed them who's boss,
I am gone and finally...
I am happy.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Glitterized Sterling

*This was written after a very bad breakup*

My liquid dreams surround me,
Swallowing my conscience whole in this tub of cimson water,
That stings the yellowed bruises that you have left upon my flesh once more,
The memory of a sterling glitter bashes the backs of my eyes,
Reminding me that you cant hurt me anymore darling,
I am drifting softly away from you upon the wings of eternity,

& in the other room,
You, so enveloped in your technicolor world,
Overdosing on the sheer expanse of time spent there,
So perfectly unaware of my impending departure,
Thanks to your self-injected brain rot,
& I, smiling weakly to myself,
Recall my reasons for leaving this hellish place once more,

For it was that lovely golden afternoon,
With pages of hope for the future,
& you, coming home, to press your angry prints upon my skin,
Smudging your memory so blatantly upon the slate of my life,
As a perfect reminder,
A reminder as to why you will always have domination over me,
Why you will always crumple my plans for hope,
Before I have even scribbled them down on the napkin yet,

So I have taken this ripe opportunity to escape you,
You and your filthy imprints that never stop ruining my life,
& I've placed the tip of the blade on my wrist, love,
Upon those ugly, yellowed bruises you left for me there,
& have smeared prints of my own upon myself,

As a reminder,
A perfect reminder,
Of how I got away from you, dear,
Here in this steamy, dreamy, crimson bathwater...


*This was written during a psychotic episode*

Dearest friend of mine for so long,
Why are you watching my untimely demise?
As I shatter the pale & icy flesh of my wrists,
Splintering the tiny indigo branches trapped below,
You gaze on into an eternity that I can only dream about,
I have drawn this ending in storybook fashion,
My pen, the tip of this blade,
As it glides from page to page like streaming blood from one precious wound,
One perfectly placed cherry sash,
Wrapped around my storybook in dignified array,
Reminding all those who touch it, why it is so short,
The slow drip-drip has finally given way to the constant spray,
Of my red-hot passion as it drips slowly and happily,
Into a basin of warm water at my side,
But soon, Death,
You will be the only one to hear it,
For I am slipping under the surface of consciousness,
Down deep into the muffled hum of eternal sleep,
Thoughts evade my troubled mind,
Relief, sincerely sought after, found at last!
& I can feel nothing but your arms around me, as we slip off into that eternity,
That I could only ever dream about, until now...
Dearest friend of mine for so long,
Why did you watch my untimely demise?

Monday, October 25, 2010

For Kristie

O twilight child, starry-eyed wonderer of life and light,
who breathed deeply that same sterile air as I
in that long and empty corridor where the white coated man
slipped us our slow working, nightly dose of rat poison
and the mouth of she, the utterly insane, babbled incoherently of Jesus
and his mother Mary all night long.
Slapping gum like a tired old cow
mouthing fodder in between her razor teeth.
Your wild-eyed, barely there stare
enchanted me, as I had seen your version of madness
quite well before,
looking back at me in my looking glass at home,
when my face melted into a bloody pool while
trying desperately to apply my mascara.
While walking the halls of the madhouse,
this asylum bursting at the seams with the cracked,
crushed, shattered and hollow folk that came and left,
still bleeding to death on the white linoleum floors.
"Off to another asylum," some said. "Off to my home," said others.
And they released them back into the world as they slit their
wrists, while walking out the deadbolted door.
In and out in two days and it was enough time to meld our
souls together forever as sisters.
O twilight child, starry eyed wonderer of light and life,
sometimes, you are, my saving grace.

Friday, October 22, 2010

The Most Recent Stay at the Bates Motel

Walking through the damning doors,
Kept locked with pad and key,
I look at you, you smile back,
You seem so happy to see me,
You welcome me to this awful place,
Rotting deep within the bowels of hell,
But to be honest dear, I know the truth,
This hospital is the Bates motel,
You'll stab me with your shiny needles,
Suck the blood from inside of my veins,
Force pill after pill on down my throat,
While my soul is soaked with pain,
You'll suck me dry and medicate me up,
So I don't make a sound,
And if I do you'll take me to,
The room where straps and chains abound,
The sun it never shines in here,
At least not in the mind of the insane,
Not unless you're manic that is,
Then you'll get a Haldol shot to the brain,
The other patients stare empty-eyed at me,
As you walk me to my room,
Some are drooling upon themselves,
Others are babbling on about impending doom,
Clean white sheets on a sterile, empty bed,
Are the only welcoming sight to me,
At least I can sleep until the meds wear off,
Such a ragged existence it seems,
Groups are at 12, 2, 4 and 6,
Dinner is at 8pm on the dot,
When you leave I place my few things,
Upon the empty, overbleached cot,
I pad on down the hallway,
Hoping this is my last hurrah here,
But the thought of my madness disturbs me until,
I realize I'll be back next year,
For this is the fate for the mentally ill,
This spare bed here at the Bates motel,
Time to get into the medication line,
& as they call my name out I whisper "Oh well..."

Thursday, October 21, 2010

The Last Goodbye

I lie still and silent,
Six feet from the crumpled grass on which you stand,
Sobbing and sucking the tears down your throat,
Inhaling cold wind that is breaking your heart as though it were blown glass,
That in return is breaking mine as well,
Even though it has ceased to beat and thrive with life,
My breath has been caught by the skilled hand of death,
Pulled from between my frozen lips,
& Out of my petrified lungs,
Now, here I lay forever, beneath you,
Beneath your sobbing, shaking body that convulses,
Your soul twisting in on itself,
The way my soul twisted in on me in the last days that I breathed,
You curse the sky for taking me away,
Curse me for allowing it to do so,
& in through your tearful goodbye I whisper to you,
That I apologize fully,
But I had to protect you from me,
But I do not think you hear,
As you walk away, back into your life and leave me here,
To lie beneath nothing but the pellets of rain

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Borderline Romance

I'm sitting high on rooftops,
So far away from you,
Staring with my vacant eyes,
Into rancid skies of blue,
Remember when you told me,
I was everything you could ever love?
Now that you are gone I spend my time,
Staring down the barrel of a gun,
I've never pulled the trigger,
Always hoped you'd call or write,
But I can see now that you never will,
So I won't make me go through another lonely night,
Twisted into the fetal position,
Laying mute atop my bed,
With nothing but the sound of your voice,
Haunting me inside my head,
I'll never know just why you left,
Never know what went so wrong,
So if you hate me as much as you said,
I wont have to know because I'll be gone,
I've pulled the trigger finally,
& flying off into rancid skies of blue,
I realize it was for the best,
I'm better off now without you

Saturday, October 16, 2010


You're standing at my bed again,
Whispering things I shouldn't listen to,
Telling me I should slit my wrist,
Saying it's something I must do,
You want to crawl inside my shell,
Once I am dead and gone,
Pick right up where I left off,
Inhabit my body once I'm gone,
You chatter on until morning light,
And I am drenched in tears,
You softly caress my swollen cheek,
Tell me to be silent so no one hears,
The sun is peeking through the trees,
Far off in the distant land,
I feel as though you've been here for moments,
In an hourglass, just drops of sand,
I get my children off to school,
You watch me from the shadowy place,
I can see you, you can see me,
Nothing is quite in place,
Once my family is gone for the day,
You come back to talk to me,
One perfectly placed slice is all you need,
Then you'll let me be,
I'm tired of your chatter,
Tired of your endless hounding,
The idea of being away from you,
Becomes better and better sounding,
So I make my trip to Walgreens,
Buy the little silver squares,
Wondering all the while why I'm doing this,
I guess because no one cares,
I tell them that you harass me,
Tell them I'm a little bit unwell,
But they just smile and nod again,
Say I'm doing better than I can tell,
The water in the bathtub,
Is starting to fill up high,
If I can't beat you at your senseless game,
I'll fly off into the sky,
Where you can never touch me,
Can't pester me anymore,
Can't tell me that I'm useless,
Can't call me a filthy whore,
The bubbles look so enticing,
The candles lit set the perfect atmosphere,
I guess this was my destiny,
In a way it was always clear,
That I am not meant to be here really,
The madness was my warning,
Now you've come to take me over,
I'm giving up this morning,
Going to let you have your way with me,
Going to let you finish me off,
No more telling my therapist of my hallucinations,
While behind her desk she scoffs,
The water is so soothing,
The blade is clean and sharp,
In my note I told them,
That I've died from a broken heart,
And a broken down mind,
So worn, but they'll never really know,
They never really wanted to accept it,
So I guess it's time to go,
The tip of the blade touches my wrist,
I press and watch it gape,
Hope to God I'll be forgiven,
And go to a better place,
I didn't know there would be such blood,
The water slowly turns red,
You're sitting on the side of the tub,
You simply nod your head,
I think the water is relaxing,
I'm slowly falling asleep,
Everything goes quiet,
As my wound continues to seep,
The blackness is all consuming,
Like the madness, I tried to hide it,
But now you're finally silent,
And I admit, I really like it

Monday, September 27, 2010

Volatile Love

Beneath a hunters moon,
We entwined together in a point,
Of fiery confluence,
The darkness drawing from us our ragged breaths,
And beneath the same moon,
We spilled our souls in a fatal hope,
That begged understanding and acceptance,
From the other,
The yellow sphere reflecting inside,
Of your hazel eyes,
Hid something darker,
Than the velveteen sky itself,
My own secrets bled beneath my sleeves,
Running down my arms,
From a spirit that could crack,
But never fully break,
Engrossed in a volatile love,
You swirled in my mind,
Like a drug injected into my veins,
I gripped your shoulders in the dark,
Lipstick and sweat, smearing,
Over pale white skin,
That steamed in the heavy silence,
You belonged to me,
My own personal demon-wolf,
Who howled to the glittering moon,
& raced the black ravens home,
Then, as if by sick fate,
Our conjoined river split,
Rushing rapids both headed for the cliff,
Where it would spill over into oblivion,
Something became ill and wrong,
As you placed violent eyes upon my flesh,
Licked your chops,
& then kissed my cheek with your fist,
The scent of blood rose on the wind,
Signaling to all of the others that paradise,
Was forever lost,
As we had become feral and sadistic,
The morning bashed itself upon us,
After fighting to the death all night long,
Showing the depth of blood splattered all around,
Sprayed all down the walls and floors,
You slept, sound in another corner,
Teeth still bared, dreaming of combat,
No longer mine,
No longer sane,
So into the thicket I fled,
Limping with my wounds,
Still seeping fresh crimson,
Never to return to you again

Thursday, September 16, 2010

I Cant

"Baby, baby...when we first met, I never felt something so strong. You were like my lover and my best friend all wrapped into one with a ribbon on it..." -Rihanna 'Rehab'

I would dip my finger into you and rub you along my gums,
Smoke you, if I could,
You're like snorting cocaine through a rolled up fifty dollar bill,
And I know I should,

Just give you up, but I cant,

I wish I could liquify your essence,
Put it in a bong,
And get higher and higher on you until I cant see straight,
While playing those stupid songs,

From the 70's, but I cant,

The withdrawl from you is hell,
Pure, red-eyed hell,
Like a stupefying recreational drug baby,
You've caught me up in your spell,

Get away from you, I cant,

So I lay here, on this cold and dark floor,
Sweating from withdrawls so badly,
That I'm steaming tonight,
And I know, sadly,

To be without you...I just cant....

Saturday, September 11, 2010

"I miss my friend, the one my heart and soul confided in. The one I felt the safest with, the one who knew just what to say to make me laugh again, let the light back in, I miss my friend..."

I hate how much I miss you.
I hate how I dream of you.
I hate how I can't stop thinking of you.
I hate how it seems like I've fucked up another good thing in my life.
I hate how much of a failure I am.
I hate how I can't help but glance at every single red car that goes by, because, in my mind it could be you coming back to me.
I hate how I still hope with the last bit of me that you will come back to me, someday.
I hate how my hope just wont die and leave me be with this pain.
I hate that your Mother hates me.
I hate how you listen to your Mother.
I hate how attached to you I am.
I hate how I can never just let you go.
I hate how you always end up going away just when I thought you were coming back for good this time....
I hate how every minute that passes, you are not in it....
I hate how I've loved you since 2006 and still can't seem to hold onto you.
I hate how much I miss you.
I hate how much I love you.
I hate how you didn't fight for me.
I hate how it seems as though you lied to me.
I hate how far away you always were.
I hate how this little, tiny, microscopic piece of me still hopes beyond reason, that one day, I'm going to come home and there you'll be, waiting for me, to say you still love me.
I hate how weak I am.
I hate how weak you are.
I hate everything.
But most of all...
I hate how you are gone.

Monday, September 6, 2010

"I'm on top of everything, the little king of anything, got a place of mine that's all my own. Well I'm inside of me again a small world all the same, and I'm alone and I'm alone and I'm alone...." -Counting Crows Round Here(Live)
I slip my lips around the frosty rim of my glass,
inhaling the fiery scent of whiskey. It moves thick
and slow down my nostrils and throat to my lungs,
that tighten, ever so slightly, with its delicate burn.
And as I ingest a frozen fire concentration of liquid
reverie, I think back to when you first told me that
you loved me. All those years ago. Both of us broken
beyond repair in a way. Both of us begging God for
something or someone to love.
I can't count the minutes, weeks, years that I prayed
for that one person, who would complete me. Then, suddenly,
as if he had finally heard me, or finally gotten around to it,
there you were. So much like myself - jaded, angry, bitter and lonely.
You were perfect in every way.
I grew to adore the little things about you.
Like the way you laugh with your entire body,
and the way you twist everything in your sick mind,
just like me, to the most disgusting
degree possible..& the way you let me win
most every conversation possible. :)
How you became so blissfully perfect, I
will never know. But you are. I feel as
though I finally have gotten things right.
I have finally found the one for me. I could
not be happier. I love you.

Thursday, August 19, 2010


A single thread of brown,
Weaving in and out of my lips,
Keeping me locked away from sound,
Tightening me in its grips,

Stitching up my mouth so I,
Am not able to speak anymore,
Yet I can still dance the night away,
Out on this blood-soaked dance floor,

Information plugged into me,
As though I am an empty socket,
Download the information given,
Kept secret as though in a locket,

Wrists bound with duct tape,
Can't move, can't speak, can't breathe,
Every motion poised to perfection,
While deep inside I seethe,

Watched by cameras all around,
I know you're watching me,
Waiting for the moment to come,
Where I am not what I appear to be,

But that moment will never come you see,
For I am the ragdoll held together well,
By stitching that winds around me,
So bitch, you can go to hell

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Alice in Wonderland (The Last Hurrah)

Liquid stupefaction emanates from large, empty irises. They are littered with red spiderwebs that lace through the snowy white globes that are far away and sunken deep into hollow sockets that are fringed with thick, black lashes. The gaze bleeds through the atmosphere while a million miles away, sitting next to her, the crowd of people smears against her consciousness like lipstick on a wineglass. Somewhere in the background the ill noise of the television slices through to her. Bold yet empty laughs encased by mindless chatter and upbeat scores of music.

The trance that has kept her captive, like a madman in a straight jacket for hours on end has temporarily been broken, and beneath the black velvet night she remembers where she is and why she is there.

Another crack house, another pipe and rock, another wasted night in Alice's Wonderland...

Turning in slow motion, her glassy eyes meet the canary diamond smile of the Cheshire cat. His white-powdered nose matched the jagged-nailed finger that had been dipped daintily into the cocaine that was then run across his gums.

To the immediate left of her tiny thigh, caressed softly by varicose veins, lay the Mad Hatter who had gone entirely mad years ago from the vast array of glittering bottles of Vodka he had consumed. The thick syrupy liquid that sloshed around in the half empty bottle in his hand, matched perfectly, the clear dreamy liquid in the tiny little syringe that protruded from his arm.

Somewhere in another room the March Hare was tripping and drinking whiskey...

Moving slowly with the thick, grey smoke clouds that hung in the air, she made her way to the balcony to sit for a breath of fresh air. The cold, bashing her senses at first, grew tolerable after a moment. Tiny tendrils of white breath escaped willfully from her red-stained lips that parted ever so slightly. No one would ever know that just behind the doors of the motel room from which she had just emerged, would be creatures of the dark, of the violent, of the addicted - having just one more night of empty fun.

Years ago, many long years ago, she had been a queen in this world she now hated. They had all been such different people. Not so tainted, so hard, so miserable. They had been young and beautiful and summer burst through the spring in hot, thick, sticky breaths. Long days and even longer nights spent driving across the sizzling hot blacktop that ran through every town within 100 miles. The bottles of cheap beer, the weed, the laying on cars at 1am talking about life, about having a life at was just dust now. Dust that blew away with the first exhale of a crack rock.

Of course it hadn't always been crack - It all started with the cocaine. The beautiful, white powder that had caused her eyes to grow wide with wonder. Snorting the first line was like electrifying one's blood. The jolt of lightning that seared like a hot skillet through her mind, that had kept her up for days - was the beginning of the love affair gone wrong. The economy had gone bad, therefore the cocaine sold less and less. When the money ran out, the cocaine ran out. Leaving her with a hungry wolf that lived in her brain and beneath her veins. Something had to stop the there was crack. $20 a rock was better than $50 a gram. She could make a rock last hours and hours but after time she realized, that first rock had ended up lasting years and years. She had slipped beneath the surface of society one night and never come up for another breath since then.

They had all been sober for the first time in 5 minute, 10 years, 15 lifetimes - not too long ago. Sitting around before heading back out to buy more narcotics and alcohol they spoke of how life had become such an ugly thing, about how they had become such ugly things. How their souls had become hard and gummy like tar that hadn't quite set up yet. They all mused at how the cocaine and Brandy days had given way to this ugly crack, heroine, acid, vodka nightmare that drug them across life in such an ugly way. What had they become....?

They had all agreed to go to rehab when the sun came up, this last night being their big hurrah. However, as she stared through the grimy, yellowed window of the hotel room, she saw what was left of them and herself. On the other side of the reflection laid her friends, withered and worn, skin ragged and cratered from too many drugs, and yellowed from the jaundice of a bad liver. The Mad Hatter would never regain his sanity, Cheshire cat would never regain his smile, and the March Hare wouldn't live long enough to see next March even if he tried...there was no escape.

But in the reflection of the mirrored glass, she saw herself, too. Dry, brittle hair that hung limp and twisted over her face. Teeth gone from too much meth when the crack wasn't available. Her eyebrows were burned almost entirely off from the crack pipe & her skin was ashen and grey from never sleeping and smoking too much. She once was beautiful. She once had a glow about her. Was told she would go far in life. Was told she would marry and have children. Oh and she had children from selling herself to too many people. But CPS had taken them away years ago and she didn't even know where they went.

The last breath she exhaled from her crack pipe twisted from her like the last bits of her soul trying to escape from the shell that abused it so. So she decided to set it free once and for all. In the other room she bummed the Mad Hatter's syringe out of his arm. He likely wouldn't need it since he had passed out with it in his skin, still. It stuck out like an ugly extension of himself. Twisted and ugly and not where it belonged. But then, did any of them belong here? No. They never had. They belonged in homes with their families that they never had bothered to have.

She emptied the needle and went into the bedroom to lay down. The room was black and silent, shadows dancing on the ceiling and walls from the night life out beyond the window. The needle glimmered so beautifully in the dark. "Just a little shot of air," she thought to herself while spurting out the rest of the heroine and pulling on the needle's handle. When it was halfway filled with oxygen, she rammed it into her Antecubital vein and sat for a moment. She never knew how her life ended up like this. How everything had become so grimy and filthy. How she had become so jagged inside...& she then pushed the air into her veins.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Velvet Whispers

Whispers - silent as the muffled rustling of leaves in the shadowy trees at night,
Wake me up to tell me something, barely audible,
Dr. Mayrose, can't you fix this? Can't your holy presence scare the demons of my darkness away?
You sly devil, you,
Keeping my brain wrapped up tight in this chemical lobotomy-like straightjacket called Thorazine,
That dispels all sense of my humanity and reasoning but does nothing to dispel the blackness that forever encases my normalcy,
Poisoning it to death, slowly - I am losing myself again,
Have you ever been to the market, voices surround you, drown your thoughts?
Gripping your attention the way a black patent leather strap grips your ankles in a pair of lovely stilettos,
My mind is like a market place,
Forever buzzing and swirling into everything and nothing at all, just noise and bustling,
It never stops, it never sleeps,
Always watching and waiting for that supreme moment whilst lying supine in bed at night,
Eyes flittering open and closed, curtains drawn back to reveal the icy moon,
Waiting - for that moment to whisper the magical words into my ear,
"One perfectly placed slice to kill the pain...." and I am off again,
Off to make that perfectly placed slice that cures all of my ills temporarily,
My addiction within myself, my addition to myself,
Beautiful scars upon soft skin decorate me like homemade tattoos,
Tiny mouths that have drooled pain upon my fleshy arms and legs,
Twisted and jagged like my internal hurt,
& like every other addict I spew words of hope and light,
Practically vomiting up the 12-steps of self-recovery to anyone who will listen,
I swear to never let the silver of a razorblade touch my creamy body again,
Yet when the burn begins I rush back to my crack pipe and suck it for all it's worth,
Then lie awake in that same bed,
Satisfied, sated, saturated...
Knowing this miserable affliction will carry me to my grave...


Can't you hear the voices?
Is it really only me?
Don't you hear the whispers?
Don't you hear the screams?
"Cut yourself," they tell me,
"Bleed so you can be free,"
"Split the veins beneath the epidermis,"
"Join us in eternity,"
They call me from the great beyond,
Where I know that I should reside,
I shouldn't have lasted in this life this long,
By now I should have died,
I should have taken the final jump,
From a tower high above,
I should have slit my wrists with blades,
In a hot, water-filled bathtub,
The bottles of death that sit upon my desk,
Should have been emptied down my throat,
The rope that lays in the garage, you see,
Should have already made me choke,
So these voices call me to them,
Scream and wake me up at night,
To wake from slumber and overdose,
So I can be gone by morning's light,
But my Dr. tells me otherwise,
Tells me the med's will make me alright,
But I know better, by now, you know,
I know they only make me lose sight,
Of the truth I know to be reality,
The truth that keeps me bound,
By my wrists and by my ankles,
I shouldn't be around,
I should be gone away with them,
Into the realm, whatever comes next,
I know they're slowly winning,
I know that I am hexed,
So one more pill to stop the screams,
One more cut to stick the blame,
Upon my shoulders where it belongs,
Hoping someday I'll be sane

Saturday, August 7, 2010


Through the blue light brilliance of a perfect morning,
Sterling silver splits the cerulean dome of the heavens apart,
Revealing a red-eyed sky that cinges and sears through my sense of security,
White hot and burning down my beautiful handmade world that is held together delicately,
By a false sense of hope and recovery,
90 days of fresh white blood cells pasting together to form a beautiful scar,
That screams at me memories of the euphoria of a razor blade's love,
Remembrance of that last syrupy, thick, intoxicating experience of severing all ties with sanity and reality,
And severing the flesh stretched over the expanse of my bones,
It tides me over for 90 days longer,
Until the burning sensation in my veins begins to simmer and creep up my soul,
Wrapping up my body and digging its talons into my face,
Locking its fingers behind my eyes and pulling my very will towards its own,
I writhe, twisted and demented, in pain upon the sparkling marble floors below me,
Screams roar upwards, from deep within my belly,
Feverishly howling like a rabid wolf for relief from this disease of mine,
That eats my self-esteem, my light, like a cancerous tumor that has grown out of my ability to control,
And as if posessed by some demonic force from the fiery pits of hell,
I place the blade to my wrist ritualistically in a calmed trance,
Press and drag, press and drag, press and drag,
Being an addict is so much fun....

Friday, August 6, 2010


The needle-sharp pinprick of pain pushes its way into my brain,
Veins burning at the sensation of the sound of voices that berate me into submission,
A struggle, the rape of my innermost silent place where I hide from you,
Trying to remain locked away in my safe world where you dare not tread until it's time,
Time to teach me another lesson in the ways of addiction
You grip my ankles with such force that I am stuck in place,
As though I have been captured by quicksand in the dark,
Tears burning hot paths down my face and throat as I realize once again that you've come,
Come to bury your poison beneath my ivory flesh,
That burns so hot from the venom that you've injected into my body that I fear I will melt away,
Bubbling down into a tiny pool of humanity that turns sticky with ugliness,
Slow and slower still, over a period of days your disease creeps like a thief in the night,
From my ankles to my heart that explodes in a vast array of fiery hues of red and black,
Heart pounding from the withdrawl-like symptoms that make me sick and feverish,
I find myself wretching into the porcelain goddess, sweating and smelling of vomit,
Resisting to the death, your will that threatens to consume my own,
And more days pass slow and painful, like a cancer patient awaiting their final breath,
Until your infection reaches my brain where you take over my will and wants,
Placing the razor to my veins, I give in just one more time to you,
While you lay, so callously, rotting beneath the surface of my skin

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


Deep within this silent place,
Where the voices still talk but the thoughts don't race,
A sense of peaceful calm floats over me,
A nice little pill called Thorazine,
Anxiety was killing my patience and mind,
So they gave me a drug that would treat me so kind,
Now from reality I'm finally free,
Thanks to my lovely Thorazine,
I used to be creative, I used to be wry,
I used to actually laugh and sometimes I'd cry,
I used to have somewhat of a personality,
But that's all gone thanks to Thorazine,
I can admire the world from my little park bench,
I owe it to the bitches at Smith, Kline and French,
My life is now just an unlivable dream,
Now that they've put me on Thorazine,
So if you would like to lose you self respect, humour and light,
Just get on this pill and everything will be alright,
You'll love being a dummy with no human emotion, you see,
And you too can owe your stupefaction to Thorazine

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Graveyard Goodbye

Pale-faced and empty-eyed,
I watched you muddle through your life,
The day-to-day was growing old,
Complacency had filled your bones,
That slowly clinked and clanged together,
Beneath the skin you loved to sever,
The bluish-grey of that rainy morning,
Had come too fast with too little warning,
When they told me you had gone away,
To another place to permanently stay,
Your pale face now cold as winter's ice,
Your empty eyes no longer showing life,
What's it like where you have gone?
Does the sun like to shine all day long?
Or is it a velveteen soft black sleep?
How does it feel to never need to weep?
Do you think of me at any point in your day?
Or have you forgotten us all from this place?
I miss your voice softly laced with sorrow,
Or how I could say "I'll see you tomorrow,"
Instead I say "Goodbye" to you,
As I stand over this casket of indigo blue,
That cradles your body in darkness and sleep,
I, being the one, who stands here to weep,
Stay low my dear, tread soft and light,
I'll love you forever, goodnight, goodnight

Monday, July 5, 2010

Plastic Prison

Somebody can you help me cuz I feel a little spent,
I've left myself again and I don't know where I went,
I ran into the blackness of the night in this drug-town city,
The pills they prescribed have failed to fill me,
I took my medicine with a spoonful of sugar like Mama said,
Felt fine when it went down and now I see instead,
That I've lost my freedom to a medicine bottle of sedating black magic,
That they tossed into my lap when I was wreaking too much havoc,
I've ripped the bones from beneath my filthy skin,
Trying to rid myself of all these bastardly sins,
That confound my brain in its drug-addicted haze,
Tell me, don't you get sick of being the rat in this maze?
They've pumped us full of pills & as far as I can see,
If they could they'd make us all walk around with IV's,
They just want us quiet and out of sight, out of mind,
As though we're delinquents who've committed some crime,
And they've made us a prison with a child-proofed cap,
A little orange bottle filled with a legal kind of smack,
That stupefies the mind and confuses the brain,
They've given us a label: "mentally insane",
Well three cheers for revenge of the sneakiest kind,
That drops into your stomach and snatches you from behind,
We'll never escape this black widow's web,
Oh it's 3pm, time to take our meds

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Switching Identities

Hey I hate to bother you but could we trade places for a day?
So I can have my chance in life to obsess over shades of pink and grey,
You could see what its like to be insane in the brain,
& I can enjoy the small things like the smell of rain,
Your breakfast can be a handful of pills - red and green,
Have fun hallucinating and try not to scream,
You'll drool on yourself at some point, I'm sure,
Oh don't worry about the shaking, for that there's no cure,
I'll head off to this regular life,
No now don't do that, put down that knife,
No cutting or cursing, no overdosing or suicide,
You get to suffer all day, besides, I never got to die,
Now I'm off to work your job and enjoy what you can do,
Without having to take a Vistaril or two,
Now you stay here in this house all afternoon and night,
I'll be back by morning light,
No you can't go out and have fun with the world,
Can't you see I'm not that kind of girl?
Today I am you and you are me,
Now you are going to see,
What it's like to live in the prison of my mind,
Have fun being depressed and falling behind,
If you get manic or crazy, no shopping spree's are allowed,
At least you'll be happy, you'll be floating on clouds,
Now sit here and babble until tomorrow comes around,
Try not to crawl and froth at the mouth,
Bedtime's at 10 and your meds are at 9,
I'll see you later, I'm off to have a good time!

Wednesday, June 9, 2010


From beneath the thick, velvet blackness,
Came a dot of sparkling, effervescent white,
So small at first, then slowly building, like an orgasm,
A supernova of the mental stability in my mind,
This brilliant blinding light,
As if I had made a bed beneath the surface of the sun,
It's rays, the recalcitrant sheets that wind around my body,
Blistering my sanity and boiling down my judgement,
Into a black and charred oil, cooked too long and perfumed like mania,
I am bubbling at the highest concentration of myself,
Fiery orange and red flick like flaming tongues from my sockets,
Eyes melting away into nothing,
I am glittering and burning alive like Alice in her Wonderland,
This intoxicating acid trip in my mind has rendered me unconscious to reality,
The world now nothing but high-frequency sounds and vibrations,
That shake me to my core, as the secrets of life wind,
Like tiny tendrils within my soul and become as clear to me,
As the crystalline creatures in my dream world where I now spin,
Madly out of control until the sickeningly sweet chemical of silence,
Is injected into my dry rotting veins and I am given a healthy dose of reality yet again,
Ah how sweet it is, this manic madness that adores to torment me...

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

The Ugly Thing You've Come To Be

No one can stand to look at her,
Now a dying shell of her former self,
Once like all the other happy little girls that swayed to music in the summer sun,
Catching fireflies,
Once enraptured by the sparklers that left smokey imprints of a name,
Or the airplanes that flew to magical lands that she always wanted to see,
Now she is decaying from the inside out,
Pouring an infectious pus from gangrene wounds that lay quietly beneath the surface,
She is bleeding on the dancefloor, hurting out loud,
But they all turn as if they cannot hear her,
Drowning out her sorrow, her screams,
Hoping one day she will "snap out of this",
So she sits, alone, with the darkness - her only friend,
Places the long, slender, sterling blade upon her flesh,
Its creamy, steam-softened delicate surface,
With the little veins trapped below like prisoners behind a wall of fleshy glass,
And presses,
Dragging it slowly across the skin she hates so well,
It tears open to reveal blood and bone,
The fabric of her being,
& with perfect disgust in her eyes,
She realizes now,
That no one will ever hear the blood-curdling screams that erupt,
Black-tainted from her tortured soul,
But the noose it gives, and the overdose fails,
The river is too warm, and the oven isn't gas,
The razor is too dull, and the house is too small,
But the gun, yes, the gun,
It is loaded,
So up the stairs she runs, as quiet as can be,
Hoping no one hears, & they don't,
Gripping with trembling hands, her cure for living,
& scribbles down a note...
" With burning eyes and a sweat-stained brow, I say goodnight, goodnight to you all..."

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Post-Suicide Letter #2

I saw you in your kitchen,
I knew why you were there,
The only one who loved me,
The only one who cared,
I saw the cocktail of drugs,
Resting neatly in your palm,
Screamed at you to stop this madness,
But you were too far gone,
I watched you take them all,
With a bottle of Merlot,
Saw the razor glide through your tender flesh,
Through the little Sapphire veins below,
Watched you stagger, drunkenly,
Into a shower hot and steamy,
Hang yourself upon the pipe above,
Your eyes growing dark and sleepy,
I watched your face grow pale and cold,
While my own was drenched in tears,
I would have saved you if I could,
If you would have only known I was near,
When your breathing stilled to nothing,
Your heart it ceased to beat,
I watched you step out of your shell,
You looked like you were finally at peace,
But when I spoke your name,
You didn't see me or the skies of blue,
Instead you wandered off into the shadowy realm,
& that's where I've followed you to,
I'm trying so hard to reach you,
Only letters can I send,
Perhaps this is how we will communicate,
Until the end of the very end....

Why Why Why?

"Why?" you ask me,
Over milky warm tea late one night,
Staring into my eyes as though you could ever truly see my soul,

"I don't know..." I lie,
Staring back into your hazel eyes and glimmering halo,
Bitter and vexed,
Figuring, hoping, pleading - that you would be the one to understand,
The one to grasp the heady glass of wine,
That is my madness and partake with me,

Yet again, I find, that you are cut from a different cloth,
Like the rest,
You always question, question, question,
Lie to yourself and beg from me answers to questions,
Which you already are fully aware of,

I replace the tea with a whiskey and watch you grimace,
Wondering how I could ever tolerate a burn that intense,
Forgetting, I believe,
That not too long ago - you partook of my infection in a likewise manner,

Perching myself upon my cherry colored throne,
The whiskey burning its way through my veins,
Coursing through, numbing the other, more deadly infection,
That threatens to consume me entirely and swallow me whole,
I listen as you ramble on and on and on and on and.....

"Do you know what I mean?" you say,
Loud voice shattering my blissful booze-infiltrated fantasy,
I nod, "Yes, yes I do...."
A smile - I'm safe,
You kiss my cheek, teeter off to bed again,
I head for my dungeon of self-inflicted torture,
Pull out the blade and slice until the blood oozes redemption,
The sweetest redemption that one could ever truly know,
& smile ...

"This is why..." I whisper, knowing you will never hear ...

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Triple Suicide

My veins are finally dripping themselves dry,
& I can almost see the other side,
I'm almost free from my evil mind,
I'm leaving this hellish asylum behind,
Where they locked me away for going insane,
From fighting the realities of the ritualistic mundane,
I found out my bedsheets would rip easily in two,
& the pipe in the ceiling is where I tied them to,
Lunchtime was as pleasant as it could be,
I stole the head Nurse bitch's keys,
Went into the breakroom when no one was around,
Rummaged and searched and finally found,
A knife with edges that were beautifully serrated,
& A bottle of Xanax to make me perfectly sedated,
Then I scrambled back to my padded little room,
Counted my pills - there were fifty-two,
Gulped them down all in a single swallow,
Finally thankful there's no miserable tomorrow,
Double checked my noose to make sure it would hold,
Placed it on my throat and dreamed of going home,
Sat for a second and admired the glittering blade,
Slit from elbow to wrist & things began to fade,
Kicked the chair out from under me and felt the noose pull,
I think I hear them coming but it'll be too ......

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Mixed Bipolar Disorder

I'm picking life apart,
Ripping myself to shreds,
A tug of war between light and dark,
This ugly fued within my head,
Sunny dispositions,
Fly around inside my mind,
Then the darkness rips me away,
One mile at a time,
I'm a thousand miles per hour,
Tree leaves glitter in the sun,
Then the world takes a nasty turn,
& to my bed I run,
Hideous monsters crawling,
Up my walls and into bed,
Blood running down my wrists,
God I wish that I were dead!
I'm so fucking happy!!
Life is beautiful, is it not?
I want to live forever in this wonderland,
As my brain continues to rot,
Unicorns dance above me,
My closet grows a set of wings,
Glitterized and technicolored,
I think I want to sing!
Im exhausted and energized,
Everything and its opposite,
I run and dance and sing and play,
& then I stop and sit...
For hours and hours on end,
Debating how to end my life,
& just when I go to grab the blade,
I realize I love this life!
Make this madness stop!
Make my mind snap so I can be free,
Because I can't live in this tilt-a-whirl,
Being ripped to and fro every minute it seems,
I'm up & down & all around,
Black & white & rainbow,
My mind is ripping me apart from myself,
Constantly stopping just to get up and go, go, GO!!
I'm ready to rip my brain out,
Ready to end it all,
But first I'll go to the nuthouse,
See if they can help at all,
Give me little candy pills,
Give me electroshock, please!
Just make my brain make up it's mind,
Or out of sanity's realm let it leave...