You keep crossing lines that I divide
The surface reeks of emotional drought
The constants are bleeding through the needling
The mind snaps as the lights go out
******* only numbs the stings
Doubt festering on darkened lines
Taken for granted on the fraying strings
When all the demons have come alive

So sparse were the days, self-inflicted
Where my liNes could do no wrong
Greater were the internal razing of thoughts
Self induced, it never felt so raw
Sordid reality and reaper of flesh
All here is temporary, the pain is reset
Sparse were the days, they compact, compress
Where the eyes could only see the wrong

In mismanagement, the intent is pushing through
Dissecting the body of fate that held us rusted
Give more to take as we break all that we knew
As our feet stampede unknown paths we trusted
In the face of the one who never tries
I cut myself for the sloth that you harbor
And as I lie here in truth dripping from my eyes
While you watch on, desensitized to the horror

So sparse are the days, self-praising
Where my mind could do no wrong
Greater now the internal razing of thoughts
Self infliction, it wouldn't feel so wrong
Replace boundaries, scar the flesh
It's all temporary, the relief is rest
Sparse are the days, they reverb, contract
Where the eyes could see no wrong

I Am Still
A Lost Mind
Looking Through
The Wrong Eyes
To Undo
The Past Times
I Went Through
Thousand Smiles
All That Hide
The Same Lies
The Same Lies
The Same Lies

if i had the room to breathe
i'd tell you what i really think
if i had the sense to leave
i'd run away before you blink
but i'm not in charge
haven't been for a while
i let you back in
greeted with my smile
you make me into nothing
just a puppet to be worn
pull my strings or cut them
make me wish i wasn't born
they all think i'm crazy
what you do to me
feels better when it's hazy
when i'm numb and can't see
i'm itching begging screaming
with need for sweet release
let the dead things spill out
let them leave me please
i'm shakey sickly scared
to be back here again
addict trembling holding
the beginning of the end
i miss the feeling of clarity
of acute euphoric lust
the bitter sting of reality
making all the noise hush
a sticky sweet sadistic lullaby
calming all my bones
the one time you don't touch me
the one time i'm alone
i will always lose
with you i cannot win
red rivers run high
with the tide of sin

there’s a rush of something to my mind that drags it’s calming palms down the back of my brain.
now i can hear the rushing of blood in and out of my aorta warming up on my cardiovascular walls.
this is what summer suns leaving final kisses to foreheads before a cool moonlight makes way.
something kind of like end of autumn when leaves transition to dust and dusk feels like the first brushes of winter winds.
i am dragging cool, calm, collected, metal across
hot, heavy, hesitant flesh and i feel
nothing until blood starts pumping and then i feel
this unabashed bliss and this unbearable shame.
it’s akin to knowing without having the knowledge the way i crave a humiliating high.

"Your hair will fall out"
"You'll faint and pass out"
"Why must you hurt yourself?"

I don't mean to, I swear
I try to recover
Each time I fail

Skin and bones are what I desire
At least that's what my mind tells me
As my body is starving, fading away

Recovery is hard
Relapse is familiar
My eating disorder is killing me

I was terrified,
But I’m my empty hands I hold freedom
In that I have nothing to lose
I have burnt all my bridges,
Lost everyone who cared about me
The fresh air doesn’t taste like freedom
It tastes like ash.


I was so scared,
But now I don’t feel anything at all.
There is nothing anyone can take from me
I promise, it’s already gone
This is not the perfect freedom I imagined,
My child, forever isn’t build upon dreams
The real ones don’t dream at all

I told everyone I’m getting better
Told them I can see the sun
Makes it so much harder
When I let them down again
When I have to tell them about it all,
How it was never going to happen

Aren’t you sick of me?
Tired of my relapse?
Tell you I’m getting better,
Only to find a text from me
Talking about goodbye
Giving up on me is easy
Be free of my relapse

You want to see me
I’m to scared to go outside
This is the game we play
Pretend I’m ok
Until I’m not agin
This is the way it always works
This is my relapse

don't worry baby it was just a game just a game i know how much you like those i know how much you like the pain and the tragedy and the mother ******* insanity why else would you talk to yourself so much why else would you **** everyone else as often as you **** yourself we know you're self aware don't play stupid even though you really are stupid if this is the game you choose rattling pills like dice hoping at least one of us will be nice but sorry sweetheart that's not how it's played no one loves you that's why none of them have ******* stayed but don't worry at least you have the voices in you head for ******* company i know playing the game is no fun when your alone so just keep tally until we're done and don't worry i won't tell any of them how much of you is really real and how much is pitch black sin you paint brightly to conceal baby don't cry when i'm here just because you want to die if you hate me so much then why don't you ever leave if you hate me so much then why do you garden with me if you hate me so much then why give me ******* roses you know i pluck the petals and watch them decompose baby why play the game if you can't stand to loose you don't have to stomach it if you choke yourself on ***** but that's never been you that's not the ******* good **** that you crave but drink it any way and choose any bottle for the chase baby it's so funny how sad you pretend to be when we both know the scary part is you don't feel a **** thing so let me help you remember how deep the losses can go baby just remember not to let them show

I take 3 steps forward, and 1 step back .
I was sober almost 4 months.

Doing swell, the job, prolific writing.
and then, wham, A bottle of Absinthe in two hours,
Not even Van Gogh on the box or the worm wood could
make sense of the garbled words I wrote.
**** Hemingway and Fitzgerald.  And Stein can go to Hell.