Sometimes things do not go wrong.
Sometimes they were that way to begin with.
A genetic disposition for sadness
made worse by the cruel hands of fate.
I tried doing my tarot cards
but I always get the bad ones
and it seems my fortune is misfortune.
One day everything I love will die
and I will return to the dust.
The meaning of life is meaningless.
I am a walking cripple trying to find my way home to nowhere.
I stop and ask for directions
but there is nobody there.



Sea Shanty

I often dream of the sea;
deep and dark.
The glassy surface of it when it's still,
a mirror image of my insides.
The sadness comes in waves
and the bad days are like the tide:
In sometimes, out sometimes.
A feeling that stretches out
as far as the eye can see.

I thought that I could swim here
but there's a heavy chain around my waist.
An anchor made from darkness
and once again I watch the light disappear above me.
A tsunami inside my skull
that throws me against the rocks
but always leaves me undrowned.

A message in a bottle floats ashore:
it tells me to give up.
Less than 5% of the ocean has been explored
what are we afraid of finding?
When we look that deep
something must be waiting to look back.
I wish someone would discover my wreckage at the bottom of the sea.


A Letter From Depression

I will love every inch of you;
the delicate blue veins
you nearly miss every time.
I will be the glass
filled with water
that washes the pills down your throat
and I will hold back your hair
as your sadness splatters the porcelain.

I have heard that you want me dead.
I refuse to go alone.
I will pull your hand from everybody
you reach out to.
You are never alone
when you have me.
I will comfort you
in the dark
drown out reality with my screaming
white noise.

Forgive me when I turn sour
like the spilled milk
you cry over.
I mean not what I say
I love you so
(I hate you)
I make you bleed roses
spreading on the white sheet.
Wilting flowers growing from your skin
finding new life
on the edge of a razorblade.

I will say goodbye
and trick you
into believing
I have left.
Then weeks, months, years
later I will come back.
Like an old friend
or an unwelcome guest
back to settle into my old home
in your heart
dragging your soul down.

I have heard that you hate me.
But when all is said and done
who will lie with you
in that box
and listen to the handfuls of soil
raining on the lid?
Six feet down,
I will not leave without you.



"The time for change is NOW"
They will sell you a dream
for cheaper than a newspaper
and they think you will never know
when they change their minds later.

The future is bright under sodium streetlights.
They put billboards on the corners
of streets of ramshackle houses,
where kids spray graffiti
and cartoon old ladies clutch at their blouses.

On the television they sit in political pews
and some red-faced suit leads the mass today.
They never interrupted when he spoke,
because Hell hath no fury
like an upper class bloke.

Their tailored arms outstretched, palms upward
like some pin-stripe jacketed Jesus.
They don't tell you who or why or how
and The Smiths reverberate that ever-asked question:
How Soon Is Now?


Siamese twins

Fall like children's dreams
into a new morning.
New me
new girl birthed inside the earth.
A ghost sticks in my throat
and a thousand voices burst inside my lungs.
This is the unseen side of me
the creature that lurks
just beneath the surface.
A white-hot woman who is in my bed
and I have been replaced
with the other one.
Like a flame extinguished in a dark room
she disappears
and shadows dance inside my mind.
The slam of a door
my swan song.
That other version of me
she is no more.
That girl that I once was
she does not live here anymore
the walls have cracked and fallen down;
skeletons from the closet
now lie scattered bones across the floor.
Nobody called her out to play
and sadness withered her away.
She doesn't come around here anymore.
You won't catch her around here
not anymore.


Suicide as a promise to myself for when I fail.

I promise it to myself,
as if it were something shiny and new to be had,
a gift to myself that I have saved up for.
Just as others save themselves for a new car
or a cake on their diet cheat day
or a dinner date with a loved one.
I have saved myself for this.

I will drive that car straight off a bridge
and bake poison into the cake
and I will make a date with the devil.
This is the only way

Years spent wishing I were someone else.
In another life
maybe I could have been happy.
I wish that the monsters would stay under the bed for once
I wish that I could have one last good day.

I can’t be one whole person.
I am fragments of many
and the pieces of the puzzle don’t fit together to make a real picture.
I am a fake girl,
from the smile down to the words
and I am sure if you cut me open
the stuffing would pour out at the seams.

Back to the promise I made to myself.
Is it selfish to think that if I can’t have what I want
then what is the sense of wanting anything at all?

If the next words out of your mouth aren’t a real promise
I hope you keep it shut forever.