When his eyes lit up
They glowed amber
Out shining the stars in the sky

When his lips laughed
They vocalized a melody
Harmonizing with the universe

When his smile beamed
It radiated happiness
Dazzling even the sun above

I should have noticed

When his eyes dimmed
They flickered chocolate
Barely a candle in the dark

When his lips quieted
They whispered noise
Barely murmurs in the silence

When his smile dulled
It reflected joy
Barley a stone among gems

I should have known
When his eyes went dark

I should have known
When his lips went silent

I should have known
When his smile went cold

I should have known

I should have known

I should have known...

When my feelings are twisted and my mind distorted,
Hand me a knife
Hand me a knife to slice away my sorrow
To distract my depression with blood
To remember the number of times I felt miserable
One scar at a time
Hand me a knife to tear open my skin
So some of the sewage of my body can leave through the opening that I make
Don’t worry
It does not hurt when I make the cut
It only burns a little afterwards
I promise the knife will not get close to my throat
or at least I don’t think so
You don’t have to see the cuts
They can hide under my sleeves
Just hand me a knife!
You will never suspect I used it
It will not be the first time
It will not be the last time
That I paint a silver knife with my own blood
I promise it will be fast
I will cut,
Wash the knife,
And greet you the next morning
As if nothing ever happened

There's a cat living in my head
and he's redecorating.
Clawing at the sides of my skull,
tearing down the wall paper that was there.
But he doesn't seem fond of putting up something new,
just wants to leave the gouges so the pain can seep through.

He doesn't travel far.
To the back and then the front again,
but he never strays to the left.
He hugs the right wall of my head
like he'll die if he tries to leave
Just digging new trenches as he goes

When he feels really inspired
he gets a hammer and
BANG
BANG
BANG
new places that throb and throb for hours
never leaving me at peace
but he's happy with what he's created

I've been told there's a piece of metal I can get
to lock him out, keep him out, and throw away the key
some people say it worked for them and I'm just hoping
that it also works for me

It's lonely and cold
Without your voice
It's bitter and miserable
Without your words
But if that's the price I have to pay
For the paths we've chosen
So be it

Some people will say
that they never see me frown;
they don't see me much

I patiently catastrophize
the boisterous morning that will follow.
A day, like today, mourning, in a tentative morning.
I knew they were there, but,
how much can they deny me sensation before they
clamor and destroy what is left inside?
An ego idealized by the being of passion.
Driven, to a harrowing morning.
Mourning.
Polish the idea that this is safe,
that this is meant to be.
Crumble into insanity at night.
Mourn the morning afterwards.
This is existence?
A mind incapable of compartmentalization.