Simply me and my musings

Wicked Little Habits

You tell yourself you’re better off alone

That everything is temporary

Yet find yourself creating ghosts

Just to keep you company

Go ahead then

Push everyone you love away

Just to know you can survive

The hole they’ll leave one day

Keep wandering from place to place

Too scared to put down roots

Cause caring is like Russian Roulette

You shoot, click, shoot, click, shoot, click,



What moment was it

When I turned on this skin

My mind became deranged

A rabid beast set loose within

It wasn’t always like this


Consuming hate

For this enemy of flesh

Wherever I go

Reflections of disgust follow

Mortification of the mind

Vicious torture so refined


Self destruction is an art

You do it piece by piece

Until you fall apart

In love with the game

You go right back to the start

Piece by piece

Part by part


When did I realize

I couldn’t be enough

Suddenly inadequate

Undeserving of love

I wasn’t always like this


Poisoned thoughts

Seeds planted in a kiss

I’ll let the ones too close go

Push until they’re convinced

A life without me is bliss

I have no hold on happiness


Self destruction is an art

Lose yourself piece by piece

Rip into your heart

You are your punishment

Let it heal, then restart

Piece by piece

Part by part

Ruins and Graves

Gasoline spit

Words like matches

I’m screaming through fire

Crying into ashes


Severed connections

All around me bridges burn

Swear I didn’t want this

A lesson I never learned


Pyre of solitude

Flames crash in blue waves

There’s nothing left

But ruins and graves


I’m lost inside myself

seeing red within the blue

misery and hate roll beneath my skin

giving it a stormy, purple hue

with blood in the water

ripped flesh in the sea

my demons are starved

and ready to feed


I am growing within myself. A shy seed beneath the soil that I have carefully tended to, I feel excitement for every tendril that reaches out from the dark pod, every root that gently takes hold. It is slow, but it is growth. It is hope. And yet, because no one else can see it, to others it does not exist. All they see is dirt, barren and plain. It’s exhausting, having everyone whisper into the cracks bloom, bloom! They have no idea how hard I am trying.

June Gloom

June Gloom hit my garden in the heat of noon. I had managed through winter and thought that I had escaped my demon’s cold embrace and was not prepared to feel the heat of his touch. Who knew blue could be so warm. The sorrow hung in the air like a heavy humidity and weighed down every sprout I had so carefully cared for. The flowers that desperately thirsted for the sky fell limp on the ground. I have never seen petals such a lifeless hue. Such fragile, tended to blooms were no match for the viscous familiarity. Any attempt I made to water them and bring them back to life was in vain, it is the weeds who would drink it up greedily. They begged to drown in it so they could take deeper root. It was as if I was growing backwards, regressing. It’s strange to have a pain so friendly, and yet the thorns that began to grow and tear up this soil like a predator tears its prey’s flesh felt well deserved and I didn’t mind bleeding to feed it. They say you reap what you sow, but I have already worked tirelessly in this field with little grown to sustain this weary heart. Perhaps I am that which needs to be reaped. I have killed every seed I have touched and destroyed everything I tried to care for. I always knew I didn’t have a green thumb. I cannot keep things like hope and faith and happiness alive within myself. I am so tired in this heat. The constant weight is killing me. Maybe the only way I will have a garden at last is to bury it all, past, present, and future. With no more night and no more day I could finally rest; my flowers would look better on a grave anyway.

Who Are You?

God, I wish I knew. Sometimes I see the way my hand trembles and it doesn’t even feel like my own. I had lived over a decade knowing exactly who I was within my small world of ignorance, but as soon as I stepped beyond that horizon I fell off the edge of that world into an abyss. I do not know who I am. I could tell you what I’ve done in my life thus far; my actions, their consequences, events that changed me. I could tell you who I think I am: a warped beast that reeks of sulfur and self loathing, a pile of rotting flesh looking for a way to move on from this earth, the human embodiment of Pandora’s box. I could tell you who I’ve been for him and her and all the others, who it is others have mistook me for, all the times they thought I was a cure when I was really the poison. I could tell you all of this, but none of it tells you who I am anymore than it tells me. They are all just pieces to a greater puzzle. I have dissected every part of myself over and over again; tearing myself down piece by piece and over analyzing every thought, every detail, like a painful game I take sick delight in. I have looked at the universe in its vastness and tried to find my place of existence in the void. I feel I am an unmarked grave and everyone wonders what type of skeletons will lie within my coffin, what it will be that kills me, and what few words will embody everything I am in stone. My soul is restless for answers and haunts this earth with the very same questions. My life is ruled by these thoughts of the infinite possibilities before me and these questions I cannot stop asking. I suppose who we are is determined by every experience, emotion, movement, thought, action, and consequence in our lives and cannot be truly gauged in its totality until death. When someone asks who you are, you can only ever tell them who you are in that exact moment you are living, but in the next, it will change. With so many variables in our lives, so many things left unknown, we are constantly growing and morphing. Only Death can offer who you are and the promise of relief in exchange for a simple kiss.

So do not ask me who I am, for I am constantly someone else growing into someone else while yearning to be someone else. Wait until I have made my deal with the devil, I promise my eulogy will be a much easier read.


There is such a desperation within me that I can never quiet; a deep hatred for my own existence, a need for the end of it. One day I will give in and it will finally all be quiet.

Piece of Mind

I abandoned something long ago

A piece of my mind

A part of my soul

Once an easy careless daze

I’m lost within this haze

Trapped in my ways


I’ve tried to kill my demons

But I’m nothing without them

We were once friends

They made me who I am

I can’t escape their grasp

A prisoner to debts of my past


Struggling to move forward

When I can only see behind

Am I too far gone within this darkness

Or am I merely blind?

I’m just trying to find

My peace of mind


I did what I had to survive

To keep breathing

I let a part of me die

Now I weep at its grave

Wish to once again feel alive

But all I feel is dead inside


I’ve tried to shake this sickness

To leave all I’ve known

But I’m stuck in its hold

And it won’t let me go

Like quicksand ever time I rise

Slowly I’m pulled back down below


My sanity is Hell’s permanent guest

My soul damned to lie in bitter unrest

Consumed by this darkness

Lost and blind

Hopelessly searching for

My piece of mind


have you ever showered because you hate crying and have no where else to fall apart quietly without anyone knowing have you turned the shower on as hot as it will go to try and burn your demons away have you sat under the scorching water pulling your knees to your chest as tightly as you can hoping if you make yourself small enough you will vanish  have you found yourself whispering visciouly “I just want to disappear” in a plea almost like a prayer to any diety that might take pity on you and grant your wish have you envisioned the water swallowing you whole or running an angry red or full of powder as a few stray pills disintegrate and fade as you wish to have you wanted to leave everything and everyone in any way possible but you can’t escape fast enough have you felt so stuck within yourself that you turn on yourself and find the only place to hide is further within so you run and run deeper and deeper until you are a small speck of consciousness within the vast darkness and suddenly the water is no longer hot and the tears no longer fall and you sit in utter silence with your eyes closed and head on your knees numb to everything but the water falling on you like rain


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