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Don't Talk to me
You put me through misery
I can only see your face

I still see you in my dreams
you know what you did to me

The perfect little angel
Lost it's wings today

How can you fly without your wings *****


Were you so caught up
In beating me down
That you never heard
my cries to stop?

I wanna watch you crumble
I wanna watch you burn
Hurt yourself and fall to the floor

Just breathe you're doing fine

Why can't you see me too
Time moves on without you


Cuz the pain in my brain
is drivin me insane

Try to enjoy yourself
cuz you won't remember a thing



If you hurt me, I'll hurt you too

Why can't I seem to forget you



Just breathe, you're doing fine

I wanted to speak,
to tear through the lies.
But He was there—
He saw through their eyes.

So I stayed quiet,
though it broke me in two.
Sometimes the loudest defense
is knowing He knew.

I could’ve spoken,
could’ve screamed.
But some battles
aren’t mine to fight.

He saw it all—
the looks,
the lies,
the way they tried
to dim my light.

So I stayed still,
not out of fear,
but faith
that justice
has a better voice than mine.

You ache to speak, to set things right,
To call out wrongs done in plain sight.
But silence, heavy as it seems,
Can guard your soul and guard your dreams.

He saw the lies, the twisted truth,
The wounds they hid, the stolen youth.
So hold your peace, let vengeance wait—
God writes the end, not fear or hate.

Do not weep at my grave,
for I'll rise and make thee choke.
Tear thine heart and drink the black fluid.
Make a necklace of rotten flesh.
Put it on my gravestone and be immortal.
To hunt you every night and day.
Make thee taste thine haunting medicine.
Put an end to thee misery-maker!
Rest on thine grave and weep.
Tell you to come back and haunt me again.
"Come back, O misery-maker! Come back, put me out of the Misery."
You shall not come, for I'll rise and make thee choke!

Some nights, she calls for me still. I listen for the luring hum of her temptress chant, her bewitching ballad, her siren song. “Let us bathe together again under the clever moon,” she sings. “Let us join hands once more and we shall stain the night with truth!” Lady Justice beckons me nearer, but I turn my eyes to the sun. Though my spirit yearns for the atonement in her touch, my heart no longer kneels to her carnal call. I thank her for her mischief and I kiss her vengeful lips for the last time. Farewell, my sweet Goddess of Divine Retribution! I close my eyes, and when I open them again, she is gone—  effervescent in the amaranthine midnight.

I am but my own foe.
A mere shadow of poignant speculation.
A culmination of nightmares,
An ugly tainting facade of fantasies.
A palatable fluid, ample to make one vanish.
A perpetual glamour of wondrous thoughts.
A package of slain ambitions.
A puzzle, static, unresolved.
Uncertain of genesis,
A mystery unfit to resolve.
I am but my own Frailty.
A dream not to cherish, but to disregard.
I am, or am I?

I kept waiting for someone to say my name
like it mattered —
like it meant something more
than the smoke curling from their mouth
or the pause before their next thought.

I kept practicing how I’d answer,
as if the right inflection
could make me worth remembering.
I kept hanging around
like a seat at a table no one was saving —
elbows off the surface, back straight,
trying not to look desperate —
taking notes in the margins of other people’s lives,
highlighting the parts I thought I belonged to.

I filled my pockets with reasons to stay
and still got left behind.
I burned through summers,
cut my teeth on promises made in passing cars.
I stood on porches barefoot, whispering,
Say it back. Please say it back.
But they never did.

I should’ve known better —
should’ve stopped twisting my ribs into ribbon,
threading my spine through the eye of a needle.
I kept breaking myself down into fractions —
a fifth of my pride, a sixth of my spine —
like if I whittled myself thin enough,
I could slip through your keyhole
and rise up like incense burning in your room.

But you were always somewhere else —
feet planted in some other city,
hands too full to catch what I kept throwing.
I was all green lights and loose laces,
always running to meet you halfway —
never noticing you weren’t moving.

I feasted on Adderall
and kept my phone on loud.
I swallowed nights whole
and called it hunger.
Or else I slept for days —
stumbled downstairs with breath like battery acid,
ate three bowls of raisin bran and no water.
My bones went soft as rotting fruit.
My dreams felt like something I could stream —
pause, rewind, resume —
binge-watching my pleading in real time,
begging the screen to glitch out a better ending.

I chewed the quiet until my teeth ached —
gnawed on the hours like stale bread.
Nights stretched thin,
a damp washcloth wrung out too many times.
I stayed up rewriting the last thing you said,
like if I shifted the punctuation
I could make it kinder.
Turned your ellipses into commas,
your cold period into a question mark.
I swore if I curved the words just right,
they’d fold into something softer —
something I could survive.

I spent that week pulling myself apart —
scrubbing my skin until it blushed raw,
stripping it like wallpaper,
scrapping your name out of my throat
like a fish hook.
I kept your words in a jar under my bed —
tight-lidded and hissing like a hornet’s nest.

I kissed the air where you should’ve been
and tasted copper and sweat.
Pressed my tongue to the place it stung
and thought,
This is what love leaves you with —
a mouth full of blood
and a story no one believes.

I kept the lights low for weeks after.
And one morning, I woke up,
swallowed the silence like a dare.
I cut my name out of the air with my teeth.
I let the hurt stick under my nails —
dark and jagged —
and I kept writing anyway.

I spit the silence out like a pit —
sharp, bitter, black.
It hit the floor and rolled,
and for the first time,
I didn’t follow it.

I let it rot where it landed.
Let the flies have their fill.
Let the maggots move in.
Let the earth swallow it whole.
Let it die twice.
Let the ground forget it ever lived.

You are my weapon,
my avenger,
the one I unleash
on anyone, anywhere.

Anyone guilty
of my lack of effort,
my frustration,
or of not being kind.

I fire you
for the things I lose
or the ones I fail to overcome.

I keep you tied to my waist,
always loaded,
but never well secured.

I **** you,
like a revolver in my hand,
and pull the trigger
with reckless passion.