I want to sink my teeth into your flesh
forever tasting you
I want to weld our bodies together
forever in your embrace
I want to sew your hand to my hand
forever intertwined
I want to glue our lips together
forever kissing you

I love too hard and get attached too easily
I get hurt and obsessive
but I pour my entire soul into the relationship

I was worried today so I went outside
So at the end I could say "at least I tried"
And I laughed and laughed in my bed
Because prozac can't quiet my head
Like serotonin can fix my brain
Like anything could keep me sane
Though when I see you smile
I sit there for a while
It's a good thought to get stuck on
Yeah, but then I want something more

I want you to want me
In more ways than you do
You wouldn't want to see
The things I want from you
Your soft sweet lips
And your soft blemished skin
Your boney thin hips
My fascination with the number ten
It all leads up to this
My brain will lobby
The truth in fits
Of selfish desire
This isn't normal
Not for me
How special this thing could be
My first true love
You could set me free
I promise I want this
And I'd never leave
Couldn't we try and at least see?
The first time I seen it was on TV
And that was love or so I believe
So what's so different about this?
I have to say it I can't stand it at all
I think I want your body.

He preferred unwashed and touched skins
I was ripe and fresh, with my green leaf
Shiny as if someone polished me against their polo shirt.

He loved texture, bruises, and discoloration
while I was smooth, absolutely bump free.

No patience left in him, he needed to gorge his hunger,
biting down and ripping it's other half trailed with a string of dripping saliva.

It wasn't a want, but a must.

Worms were wriggling out from the rotten core begging to escape from his monstrous pointed teeth.

He preferred them just the way they were, abandoned, unsure, insecure.

He however never preferred me; smothering myself of perfection to be picked from all hands who only ever picked the others...

Perfect apples can't always be picked up.

Borderline Personality Disorder...

It's this thing that lurks in the shadows, a feeling that doesn't quite always manifest the same way.

BPD...the silent killer.....or maybe that's what all diseases are. I'm not so sure.

What I do know is that I never expected to make it past 18 much less to 23. What I do know is that BPD has a mortality rate of 8-10%. What I do know is that I'm scared.

Scared that one day the hidden thoughts of my mind, those things we like to keep in a box, will soon find their way to the frontal lobe of my brain and send my consciousness soaring.

Scared that one day I'll finally get tired. Then, I'll get tired of feeling tired and then I won't be tired at all anymore.

Scared of my ability to hurt others even more than I hurt myself.

What I find to be the sick irony of the whole situation is that BPD manifests solely from immense abuse. You cannot be born with it, the mannerisms are all learned. Therefore, I am now forced to bargain my existence, tiptoeing through memories that should be long forgotten.

Trying to remember what my childhood was like while overcooking my breakfast.

Trying to shower but my brain continues to replay that time she raised her hands to me.

Trying to sleep....but my brain doesn't allow that comfort much anymore because those thoughts find their way into my dreams.

When we struggle, they like to remind us that "we are not alone". Yet when I dream at night, I am the one to close my eyes. When I walk into a restaurant, I am the one that can't sit with my back to the door anymore.

I want to give a special shoutout to everyone who played a role in me obtaining this diagnosis. If it weren't for your years of abuse, I wouldn't be living through the single most wonderful years of my life.

Without you, I'd be free and freedom from ourselves is much easier said than done.

Tonight stands still, like how I stand when I see you
The smoke hangs in the air, like my feelings when I see you
I smile, as I imagine us doing all the stuff couples do
and I think I feel happier when I do, I think

I feel like tonight is going too slow
I feel like you wouldn't really know
What goes on in my head
When I beg myself to tell you instead

When you take me to that special place
It puts my head in a special case
Where my stomach is crushed
And my lips are hushed

I think I feel sadder when you smile
Especially when it's not from me
And I envy them for a while
To be what I can't be

I believe you don't care about me
Because that's really the truth
Or at least that's what my head says
I never told you but I really am a mess

But you knew that already
I don't think you know though
But in the end, if the shoe doesn't fit
Just end it, or just force it.

So there's this girl
A small girl with tired eyes
She says she loves me
And I wish that I could believe her
That she was anything more than just
Water flowing through my hands
And when the bucket is empty
I'll still see her, and it won't be the same

So there's this woman
A stressed woman with worried eyes
She sees nothing more than the night before
She asks "Are you okay?"
And I tell her, "No, I'm not."
And we leave it at that.
And the next day
We do the same thing.

So there's this gun
A gifted gun with one beckoning eye
It is darker than anything I've ever stared at.
And when I look into it, I get scared.
Because I want to be whole again,
To feel the sun on my skin
To feel that hair in my face
To feel those lips on mine.
But the sun is killing me.
Because I can't be your sun.

So there's this note.
You don't have to read it
It doesn't have much merit.
I just thought about you
So I found my gift.
My wonderful god given gift.
To leave everyone I care about.
Because the sun gives you cancer.