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 ...

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 ......

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!

No!

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...

Flying High

I'm sitting high above the city streets,
Far away from where you could ever reach,
The wind blows cold and colder in my face,
Stained with tears that have fallen into perfect place,
I see the top of the world above,
Where I always thought I'd have everything I want,
The office at the top of the tower of gold,
Children and a little dog at home,
But now I see how it will never be,
And more tears fall down far to where I'll soon be,
If they could all only see me now,
They would know I was serious somehow,
Instead they sit safe, alone at home,
Drowning out the great unknown,
& I'm on top of this ledge of ivory,
Standing tall for everyone to see,
A stirring down below attracts a crowd,
& I know they've finally found me out,
I hear sirens, the screaming of my impending fate,
& noone down there even knows my name,
Look at me, you can't ignore me now at all,
Watch me fly to death, watch me fall

Anything is better than to be alone...

My mind has completely left me, I fear. I feel nothing except a foul-smelling panic that floats above my nostrils and below, stinking and suffocating me until I choke upon it. I know, now, why Sylvia Plath put her head in an oven. If she felt even a small bit of what I am feeling currently then she would know how horrid this existence is. I sliced my arm open last night. Oh, both legs also. I am slash ridden monster. I feel as though nothing is real and I am merely watching the world float by me. It is as though I have been cocooned within a marble globe that wraps itself around me, pulling me away into nothingness. I long for a bed. One that I never have to get out of again. I crave sleep. I am gulping it in hour long increments that are still never enough. I would head to the psychiatric hospital again, if only for the nice, long rest. I just need a break. A few golden days spent sleeping soundly would have me right as rain, I believe.

I am so very numb. So faithless. So hopeless. I feel nothing. My mind has vacated the vicinity of sanity. I keep thinking that if I could only close my eyes tightly enough, that the visions of the dead would go away. Last night was a bad night. I cant hold onto me, anymore. I will be so thankful once finals are over. I have lost it. I have completely lost it. Once finals are over, I may very well check myself into Wishard. Nobody needs to know where I am. It's been almost 3 years since my last psychotic snap. I believe I have done very well. My mother thinks the devil is out for me. I know he is. It seems as though everything that can go wrong to stress me out here of late, has. I feel like a failure. I feel like a fat pig. I feel like a flop. I am lost. I am depressed. I am suicidal. I am dead inside. I am just dead. Once the blanket is done drying, I can go to sleep! YAY! I need to sleep, I am exhausted! UGH! First final of the week tomorrow. It's Art Appreciation. I must do good at this. I must do perfectly. I can't let my mask crumble completely just yet. I just have to keep this up for a little while longer. Goodnight everyone.

Human Graveyard

Secrets,
Buried so deeply beneath my veins,
Like cadavers in a riverbed,
Stinking and swelling,
Rotting and bloated,
Memories of ugly things long since passed,

With each new memory of pain,
I dig it a grave in my flesh,
Carving open a hole with a sterling shovel,
Where I place it,
Deep enough to never find again,
The scar, meaning it's forgotten,

Condemning eyes graze my skin so slowly,
Memorizing every well placed grave,
As though my cemetery is not beautiful,
I curiously wonder if many people have these graves,
If so, where do they hide them?
For they have no outer scars like me,

They smile, knowingly,
Yet they will never know,
Ever,
Only others with similar graves could ever understand,
What it is like to have to bury every memory of pain,
That the world vomited up on you,

I smile,
Somewhat regretfully,
As the morning sun glimmers upon freshly dug graves,
New memories that have been buried,
Along with the other corpses,
That lay,
So rotting beneath my skin...

Whiskey Lullabye

The past few weeks have been interesting to say the least. I'm still suffering in the aftermath of a less than decent breakup with someone. It wasn't the breakup that was so horrible, it was being left two weeks before my birthday and then being told "I want to be friends" yet, we barely speak. What else did I expect, though? You deal with someone's issues, and spend four and five hours at night, quite a few nights, trying to help someone sift through the garbage of their soul and you eventually turn into that garbage I suppose. That is exactly how I feel. Discarded, like trash.
I find myself crawling deep within myself, and at night, into my bed with nothing more than my pain and a bottle of whiskey. My bottle is my new best friend. I'm lonely. Sickeningly so. I seem to be unable to even attain the level of friend with this person. I'm merely a booty call nowadays. I'll never understand the workings of the male mind. Or at least not Dave's. How you can go from being told "I love you" & "I think we should start doing things with each other's families" in December to "I need my space" & "the relationship is just too stressful" in January...I will never know. I guess I'm still reeling from the shock. Everything happened so fast. Slowly, and then all at once, like madness. My heart is still broken. Every time he looks at me and I see that familiar nothingness in his eyes, another little piece of me cracks.
I did everything I could to save it. It obviously wasn't enough. Part of me thinks he's still mad at me about fucking Matt. At that point, he wouldn't even speak to me, so I guess I was at a loss as to what else to do to get his attention. It doesn't excuse it, but I figured that if it was all falling apart and he obviously hated me anyways, I might as well get some affection while I could. I'll never forgive myself for it. I'll carry the guilt to the grave. It just seems like I've lost a lot of people in the last few months. Eventually, I am certain I will be entirely alone again. This time I am prepared to combat this sorrow with whiskey. If I dont feel, I wont fall apart.
I finally had to admit to myself the other day that I was still broken-hearted. It is as though this was carefully orchestrated over a couple months, just to make me hurt. If it was, then I must give him props, because it worked beautifully. I notice these days when he talks to his other friends, he's more affectionate to them than he ever was to me. Period. Then, finally, today it hit me. I was right all along. He never really liked me much. I don't think he ever really wanted a relationship. I think he wanted a quick fuck. Mostly I think this, because that's all he wants nowadays. Bar hopping for a couple hours, some live music, and then my drunken ass naked for him to fuck and cum quickly in.
I feel naked inside. It's always like this after relationships for me, though. Stripped. Bare. Raw. Like someone has torn apart the flesh of me once again, carelessly, scrambled my insides, and then ground up my heart into a fine powdery dust. Then they handed it back to me and said "Put this back together"....as if it were possible.
I can't put it back together, damnit. I can't fix it and make it pretty again. I can drink this bottle of whiskey next to me, which is exactly what I'm going to do tonight. I'm going to drink this shit straight out of the bottle, fuck coke and ice. I want to feel the burn, and then, I want to feel numb. I wonder when I will figure out why I am always the one who gives everything she has in a relationship, only to be used up, and left with the loser's hand. Fuck this shit. I'm going to go drink the rest of my whiskey now. I hate love. I hate everything to do with it. I'm sick of this shit.