Anything that is highlighted indigo, was put up last time I updated.
Here's some of my poetry:
The Noise and the Silence. August 21, 2006
Why can’t I ever sleep?
How come I never get neither quiet nor peace?
There’s a relentless pounding inside my head,
So I crawl away,
To a new someplace.
Here it is dark,
And here it is still.
Light comes in from only the cracks on the door and the wall.
Here it is silent,
Nothing moves,
Even the spiders don’t dare speak.
Here it is lonely,
Here it is only.
For just an hour I can call this place mine.
Future Suicide Girl August 25, 2006
Wouldn’t you agree,
That there’s nothing more beautiful,
Than delicacy?
I want you to dream about me,
And my spider-leg eyelashes.
I want you to want me,
And my paper-pale face.
I want you to love me,
And my erotic green eyes.
I want you to want me,
And what’s between my thighs.
Get lost in my lies,
Kiss my dull eyes,
Bring this dead body,
Back to life.
Dark Annie August 29, 2006
Dark Annie,
Dark Annie.
What was it like, with his hands around your throat?
What was it like,
As he cut you to death?
Was he dark… just like you?
Was he handsome at all?
Dark Annie,
Dark Annie.
Did you scream?
No, you couldn’t…
He cut your throat before you could.
Did you gasp for air?
Did you try and hold on to your last minutes of life?
Did you even know,
He was ******** you?
Dark Annie,
Dark Annie,
Do you regret your profession now?
The Letters September 4, 2006
She wrote letters that were never sent,
And listened to music her heart ate.
She swallowed things that could never be said,
And wrote them down on paper instead.
She addressed them to people she did not know.
She addressed them to people she had never met.
She’d sign it with love, and then some with hate.
Send it off to them through her head to a better some place.
She wrote letters that were never sent,
And listened to music her heart ate.
She swallowed things that could never be said,
And wrote them down on paper instead.
She addressed them to people she did not know.
She addressed them to people she had never met.
She’d sign it with love, and then some with hate.
Send it off to them through her head to a better some place.
About this Girl. September 20, 2006
We are as opposite as can be.
You are the sky,
And I am the ground.
You’re a bird, free.
I watch, while looking through windows.
Oh… How I long to be.
You’re every thing I’m not.
I watch you with admiration from afar.
With your bright eyes,
Porcelain lips.
Baby doll thighs.
Quit tempting me.
Untitled October 10, 2006
Our small world’s collapsing,
Will we now have time to think?
In this silence,
Can we sort out this mess?
I want to sit,
In a corner of the world,
And let it come to me,
How to repair you.
I want to just sit,
And think of how much I love you.
I want to sit,
And think.
You won’t be aware of me,
You never are.
You neglect me.
You won’t be aware of me,
As I sit in this far corner of the world.
Maybe October 16, 2006
He sat by himself in the cold hospital room.
And dreamed of the days he'd maybe walk again.
Have a head of hair to brush again.
Maybe when he died the circles beneath his eyes would disappear.
Maybe when he died music would sound good again.
Maybe when he died he'd feel at home again.
The Most Beautiful Girl in the World December 1, 2006
The most beautiful girl in the world does not lead a life of glamour.
She lives in angst and anxiety,
Hate, rage, and pain.
The most beautiful girl in the world,
Lives not in a home.
No, it’s not a home.
It does not feel like a home.
Just a house.
The most beautiful girl in the world is not admired by all.
No, not by all.
Yes, by all.
The most beautiful girl in the world does not look in the mirror and brag.
Does not look in the mirror and smile.
She looks in the mirror and cries.
The most beautiful girl in the world does not lead a life of glamour.
She lives in angst and anxiety,
Hate, rage, and pain.
The most beautiful girl in the world,
Lives not in a home.
No, it’s not a home.
It does not feel like a home.
Just a house.
The most beautiful girl in the world is not admired by all.
No, not by all.
Yes, by all.
The most beautiful girl in the world does not look in the mirror and brag.
Does not look in the mirror and smile.
She looks in the mirror and cries.
December, December, I Hate Your Guts December 4, 2006
Oh, it sucks,
When the only person you want to love lives in a book.
December, December,
I hate your guts.
I’d hold his hand.
We’d run through Central Park.
Jazz Bars,
Kids get hit by cars.
December, December,
I hate your guts.
Piano men,
Phoney men.
December, December,
I hate your guts.
Ugly Lives, Beautiful Lies. January 1, 2007
How come in movies,
Everything is perfect?
And why does this,
Entertain us?
How come beautiful people,
In the movies,
Lead beautiful lives?
It’s just beautiful lies.
The ugly believe it.
Their distorted faces twist into smiles.
Crooked teeth grin,
Crooked noses tilt up at the sky,
As witchy howls fill the air.
Why is everything perfect,
When you watch it on the silver screen?
“Filth” Of Society February 6, 2007
They are lost,
And they are confused,
They are the desperate.
They are the lonely.
The people who stand out from everybody else.
And called the “filth” of our society.
They are hurt,
And they get blamed.
Men and women.
Girls and boys.
And Genders you wouldn’t recognize.
Young to old.
They are the misfits.
And they are afraid.
Singled out,
Beat down,
To the ground.
Kicked around.
Miserable.
They are the miserable.
Hiding who they are,
Forced to live with all of you.
Japanese Gardens February 25, 2007.
In a big city,
The city, San Francisco,
There is a garden,
And a Japanese tea house.
Between Fisherman’s Wharf,
Cable cars and rolling hills,
You can find quiet.
Statues of Buddha,
And a tall red Pagoda.
Two cranes in the pond,
Lilies float in the calm.
Black birds sit on rocks,
And search for food among the reeds.
The plants are lush green,
Purple kimonos,
Are worn by the hostesses,
They will serve you tea and cakes.
Here you can relax.
In a big city,
The city, San Francisco,
There is a garden,
And a Japanese tea house.
Between Fisherman’s Wharf,
Cable cars and rolling hills,
You can find quiet.
Statues of Buddha,
And a tall red Pagoda.
Two cranes in the pond,
Lilies float in the calm.
Black birds sit on rocks,
And search for food among the reeds.
The plants are lush green,
Purple kimonos,
Are worn by the hostesses,
They will serve you tea and cakes.
Here you can relax.
Happy ******** Birthday, It’s an Unhappy Anniversary. March 27, 2006
Around you, it’s awkward.
I can’t help to feel wary of you.
Hate you, and hate your guts.
How could I have enjoyed it when you held my hand?
And how did you make me cry?
Last year your birthday present to me,
Was so sweet,
Or so it seemed,
At the time.
But now it hurts,
To remember opening that birthday bag,
And know that the Pandora’s Box you gave me,
Contained misery.
Turmoil,
And things I wish I’d never feel.
I should have known,
Better,
Than to open, such a pretty present.
You spent six long months,
Trying to give me your box.
What made you throw all your hard work away?
I hope Cupid ripped your heart out,
When you saw her kiss another girl.
And I hope you felt torn,
And guilty.
Because I know you were there,
When you saw the look on my face,
After realizing what diseases I’d unleashed upon myself.
