The Way

Monday, June 30, 2003

darkness falls
with eyes that glimmer
stabbing quickly
oneside slicing
oneside pulling
and one point pushing
deeper into the abyss

that pain that aches
and makes you moan
heave and wail,
leaves a dripping trail
as it hops gleefully away

back again another day
this time striking with confidence
the battle although short was proof enough
that although the resitance was strong
it was stronger
and seeping into the cracks of the houses
covering in a black powder
the ash of the battle was spread in all areas
to the tips of town
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blakened teeth
shinging brightly
in the cool haze,
Curling upward,
facing the hidden sun.

The hidden treasure
stored safely
under the hard matress
forgiving
it sparkles in the dark
dripping
slowly down her spine
soaking into the crevices of her shivering back

tumbling
sitting in her own pile of blackness
everynight
it's her own little party
except for last night
when the music blasted her away,
away from reality
from her needed pain

mudering her mind
with the harshness of her selfishness
beating herself
because honestly,
she cant comphrend why,
why, she coudln't take those 10 minutes
to ease her aching wrist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm fat with guilt

Why is it that i hate food
i love it
my heart beats as my friends gorge on fries
and i sit there
with my sulken eyes staring at them
wondering how they do it

i look at them
why am i not eating
i shrug
and stuff my face
trying to conceal whats hiding underneath

I'm just a monster
with a mask
no one knows because i can pretend
the way my face lights up at their pathetic jokes
how i'm shreaking in pain when they aren't looking

are they blind
when i cry they laugh
they don't know the pain i am in
forever i have that feeling of food

Do you eat to live?
Live to eat?
although i hate eating i live to eat
its sad
and depressing
by giving into the fact that i love food
just shows
how i'm a weakling
i should be killed now
survival of the fittest
why am i here then?

no matter how little i eat
i'm still fat with guilt
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My Nirvana

The sharp blade
Begging to penetrate
My scarred skin.

My wrist
Hardened with scars
Covered with dried
caked blood

My mind is the artist
And my wrist the canvas
And my mind's crazed thoughts
Etched permanently into my skin

At that first breakthrough
Where I discovered
Pain IS gain
And the tabooed thoughts of self injury vanished from me.

Coming to the horrid realization
Life isnt full of loollipops and rabbits
Instead it's filled with pain, sorrow and death
Yet embracing those thoughts
I've come to realize that they bring equal happiness

I love the feeling as i push
Roughly into
My wrists
The blood
Seeps out

Yet it's not enough
Not enough for my avaricious needs
I want more
More blood

And my life is now filled with hate as i begin to realize
I AM A FAILURE
I even failed at cutting
I couldn't cut...
I tried
I wanted to.

The damn razor that used to be my friend betrrayed me
And now all it gives me is a tiny sliver of cake
When my stomach growls for the whole thing.
I hate that razor
As much as i love it.

And when I can't cut
What do i do?
How do i feel?
I feel empty and shallow
And i feel like my pathetic problems don't suffice.
And that i'm worthless
And hopeless
And numb to all others

Yet when the blood flows
My feelings reverse
And my heart is put at ease

People tell me cutting is bad
They're all ex-cutters
They say its addicting,
I'm addicted,
I need help,
WELL FUCK THEM.
They don't realize that this is my only happiness in life
My only way to feel at peace in this world of rurmoil

And yet the more i cut the more i feel like a weakling
I look at the others that DON't cut
And think to myself
WHy?
Why can't i be strong and brave?
To embrace my problems without bringing a razor to my wrist
But i hear the razor calling my name
And i forget about all these petty thoughts
Return once to my only
Nirvana
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (this one is similar to the one above because i thought i had lost one of them and tried to write it again)

i leave
headed for my room
where my only relief is
i head for the shelf
which holds my posessions
and i grab the
little Tiffany's bag
that contains my life

the bag is small
not more than 2 inches
and yet it is what contains everything about me
i open it and let the two pieces slide onto my hand

they're both razors
one bloodied from times before
the other
new with a few specks of my precious blood

i feel the sharp blades
taunting my skin
penetrating
just lightly
enough for blood

yet its not enough
my mind is an artist
and my wrist its canvas
and its demented image
being etched into
my wrist

yet the blood isn't gushing
and the hurt is not relieved
i want more

my wrist
is just one scar
its skin hardened
unwilling to give into
the razor's narrowed veiws
and yet the pain is so
calming
its effect magnificant

i yearn for the blood
and when it comes
i rub it into my skin
hoping that it stays there forever

the pain is gone
well most of it
and i slide the razor back into its cushioned home

I hop into the shower
only to my disgust
to see the blood
my happiness
seep through the drain
and i say to myself
"See ya tommorow friend"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The smooth metal blades
caress her chapped skin
watching her favorite color
fill the bath tub.

Waiting for the moment
of everlasting peace
mascara drips
her body heaves
finally slipping out of the facade
that had encircled her life
she feels the happines overcome her

the door opens
she plays in her pool of blood
smiling
flaunting her wrists

"Daddy are you happy now?"
he nods
shuting the door
he hears her laugh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
her fingers glide across the shiny metal
leaving her grusome residue
breaking her skin,
letting it leak inside of her
as she tries to get rid of it
it only seeps back in

its a never ending cycle
where she,
can't escape it
her mind the culprit
tortures her
because it knows all that she is

to want
that is all she is
nothing more...
she hates it

strives for perfection
only to realize that on her journey
she like a sponge
has soaked up that horrible verb
To want.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My mother cried tonight,
it was my fault,
i was lazy
and useless
my mother cried because of me
because i am worthless

i try to crawl to my room
to sulk in my bed,
let my blood flow out of my skin
but the steps to high
steep
and myself being so weak
couldn't lift my heavied foot
So i just sat there,
soaking up the obvious fact
i'm just a worthless pig
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ode to the Revolution

The soft gleam of the shining metal,
The smooth black handles
Grip every move.

The dull triangles
Cutting smoothly away,
Snip away parts of fear,
Cut out
Harmful thoughts,
Cut out
The terror
Eating away at the growing pain,
Like the festering maggots
That lay hidden
Deep inside,
The upturned stomach.

Evil thoughts brought to calm
With the simple tool,
That children threaten,
Sharp with warmth,
Dull with frost,
The flowers wilt
While the insects feast.

The shining sun
Slashes through
The tenuous paper,
Which supports
The faltering heart.

It tells me,
Cut out the deep hunger,
Which resides in its soul.
Why,
Must paper be so thin
And life so thick?
It asks.

It complains
It cannot see
The impending objects
Which haunt
Its daily life.

The guillotine
Looms above
Waving good-bye
One last time.
Swish,
It echoes
Through the dark,
Sensitive place.

It rings in the ears
Of the defenseless child
And the strong warrior.
Their backs shiver,
The job is done.

And the power seeps
Its blood,
Lights a fire.
It ignites the world
In callous pain.

It sparked
The revolution
Where mind
Meets matter
And they are not
Friends like it expected.
Its idea was influential,
The outcome unfortunate
What could it do?
It was only
Scissors,
Cold metal piercing
The delicate skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The fakeness eludes me
the growing pain
the sharpened smile
its mask covered in blood
the smell of disgust

I see the dangling earrings
which gracefully brush against
the slender white neck
a noose
the hanging inside
breathing in the emptiness
covered up by superficial love
of a perfect life

the wholesome transparency of her being
transfixed on the ideal memory of happiness
it left at seven
returned for a moment at ten
and not that discontented dream

laying on the floor
surrounded by crimson
she cradles her knees
against her breasts

she's losing the race
with her slow pace
her smile so bright
so sweet and warm
it fills her up inside
where nothing exists

her many friends surround
asking what went wrong
her blank stare
and epitome of thoughts

her knuckles swollen as she pounds
and life returns
but deep in her heart she knows she's alone
and as she reaches for the knife once more you hear
that unearthly laugh

held at the will of fire
the eyes that gleam over her
rip and tear her open
what she does for happiness
only leads to disaster

her bed,
a remarkable piece
stabbed with the anger
betrothed by her fists
the music plays
her hurt feelings
the coalition between the music and the bed
knocks her into the corner of the room
where the hackneyed tears poor down her face
the lurid realization
that she needed help
over come by lassitude
and her stringent rules she collapses.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Delicate wind
Blows across the silent river
Zephyr
Propelling
The single leaf
No longer so simple
The gale
Tormenting the sky
Heightens the fear
Rising across the fishes scales
A formidable rain pounds

Things are different
Change
Is in the process
The gloomy sky
Once bright with joy
Destroyed
Not for long
The wind moves fast
In the race

Clouds
Once bright
Now a pale Gray
Intertwined
Yellow, green, blue, purple
Hidden by the overpowering gray
Swelling
Like a mother, its belly round and moist
Spitting out harsh words
Succumbing to their painful touch
Yet, the stronger being withheld
And pushed through the fight
The brightness uplifting
The wind combing
The knots of my hair
Tears on my face
Wiped away with a gentle hand
That shapes abowl
The clay that is molded so easily
Dry and cracked
Unwilling to change
Is broken

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A solitary tree
standing in a parking lot
the smog suffocating its leaves
is accustomed to the dirt that is embedded into its roots
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hunched over
my ribs poking out of my skin
shake uncontrollably
as the cough reaches my lungs
spreading its self out in my body
itself larger than mine

I look up
facing towards the mirror
its gossamer frame
laughing in my face
eyes swollen
my cheeks red
the mirror grins flaunting its jovial attitude

I turn to the side
with my hunched back
still shivering
the heat,
immense and yet can't get through my thick skin
my cadaverous mirror
so perfect and happy
I can't see myself in it

I stand up straight
staring it down with my cloudy eyes
it will do no good
my stare weak in its upholding presences
for I'm not there.
it does not reflect me
my obscured images
do not help its frigidness

I cry out to it
in vain
its hunger for my pain seethes
bubbling over
the cauldron so round and large
sucking me dry
asking for more
convincing me that I am selfish,
that I am perceiving it wrong
it is my friend

the mirror my sister
I'm attached to them both
and yet they yell and scream at my insecurities
tell me it will all be over soon
just one more day

they mock my failing efforts
whispering into my ear
to give up
and when I do
as my cough continues
they laugh at my quaking body
they poke and laugh
and that is the end.

These are the poems i've written over the past 6 months... hope you like :)

Teal @ 12:31 AM

about

These are my poems. Written in my happiest and darkest hour. Wow that was corny. (tealytoo@yahoo.com)