Overdose on Emptiness

"I'll take one cause I needed to feel it so much. I had an emotional crutch, but I'm feeling bored so I'll take some more cause nothing is happening..." - Hurt 'Overdose'

Her eyes are as empty as the winters sky,

Heart bound by a cage of snow,

Lips turned down in mild disgust,

She can't feel any more, you know?

Body once rapt with life and heat,

Now cold and limp in a chair,

Fingers brushing through the mess,

That once was her glistening hair,

She once was beautiful and glorious,

She once could feel, you see,

She once resonated life and light,

She once had a personality,

Back before the breakdowns,

Before the medications, too,

The little plastic deaths that come in all colors,

Red, Beige, White and Blue,

She takes them by the handfuls,

Just like the doctor said,

But she has a tendency to take too many,

Just to see if she'll wind up dead,

Yes Russian Roulette with a pill bottle,

It's become her favorite game,

Downs them all with a bottle of Jack,

And hopes to God she doesn't wake up ever again

Crazy

"You used to captivate me by your resonating light, now I'm bound by the life you left behind, your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams, your voice it chased away, all the sanity in me..." Evanescence "My Immortal"

Your tongue lashed out from between your razor teeth,

To latch itself into my sunlit mind & filling it with your venom,

Sending me into scatter-brained shock,

& my heart fell from it's hole in my chest to shatter onto the floor,

I stared at you with empty aquamarine irises,

The whites of my eyes laced with crimson spiderwebs and soaking tears,

Where there was once blaring silence, there is now your shrill screaming voice,

You are screaming at me again,

Then it happens, so quickly that the only thing I see is flesh, white flesh stretched taut over solid knuckle as the back of your hand meets with the side of my face,

My body bends with the will of your force, sideways, as I land face first on the ground,

Angered, I fly upward in pure, white hot momentum and plant my fist in the socket of your eye,

We meld into one violent, bloody creature, all hands and feet flying sideways and downward,

Teeth gnashing, hair pulled, fists landing in jaws, ribcages, nails scratching at throats,

A voice in the back of my head screams "More, give me more!"

We are wild dogs, mad animalistic, rage-filled beasts with only beautiful bloodshed in mind,

& this continues on until morning,

& then, when the sun rises and we have simmered down into nothingness you lean to me and say "I'll love you forever," and in my sickness I know that it's true

*This poem is still being worked on!

My Immortal

"I'm so tired of being here, supressed by all of my childish fears, & if you have to leave then I wish that you would just leave, your presence still lingers here & it wont leave me alone"

-Evanescence "My Immortal"

My heart it grieves for you,

Beneath a blood stained moon I breathe in sickly sweet air,

That infiltrates my senses, causing me to become hazy with delirium,

I place the razor to my wrists and carve your name into my pale white flesh,

& wonder to myself absent-mindedly exactly where you went in this grand world so large and unpredictable,

I think to myself silently that I miss your eyes and how they would stare right down into my soul,

Your hands and how they would roam over the expanse of my skin, leaving the tiniest goosebumps in their wake,

Your voice and how it would soothe me, bring my crazed brain and emotions back down to a realm of sanity,

& then how your voice drove the sanity straight from my soul altogether,

In general, I find it safe to say, I miss you...I miss who you were long ago and far away, once upon a time,

I grieve for the kindhearted, sugary-eyed, lovesick for me boy that I fell in love and pure primal lust with four years ago,

The one who broke his arm because he got so wrapped up in thinking of me that he fell off of a brick wall,

That wrote me love letters, love poems, sent me love songs and got me through the roughest time of my life to date,

I miss my friend...

My heart & soul confided in you, I felt safe with you, I felt content with you, & then you changed,

& now I don't know who you are anymore & I hate it,

I'd give anything to have you back,

But of course I can't have you back because you're gone...

"& though you're still with me, I've been alone all along..."

-Evanescence "My Immortal"

Letters

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.

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?



No.




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

wake.

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.

Ragdoll

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