Cut My Heart Out






I remember when we were kids,

We used to make Valentine cards,

Red construction paper and white faux doilies

Purchased at the 5 & 10 store,

Something about the way that white paste smelled

Made kids want to taste it, and some did,

My chubby fingers never seemed to fit

Those round-edged scissors,

And my clumsy little cut-outs, 

So second rate next to yours,

I'd always ask you to do mine for me, 

But you seemed impatient to do so back in those days,

But after 13 years now, with no return phone calls,

It seems you've developed the virtue,

And the bittersweetness

Of our own blood upon my lips has 

Sparked memories such as this one,

And I try to acquire a liking for this strange aftertaste,

Because I guess I've received what I asked for,

But I'm sure that paper hearts don't bleed this much.


2:35 AM 8/6/2013  © 


Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about growing up with family members, maturity, and life changes.


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The Weave

The Weave

The red weaves its way down my trembling hand

Like rain drops streams down a windowpane

Unmistaken expectations never realized

Waiting for all of my hurt to drain

She sliced a piece of me as she passed by

Leaving a deep impression in my soul

She burned me and raked me over

Like an old piece of crushed coal

She left me like an empty shoreline

One piece of sand on top of another piece

The pain inside of me runs deeper

Than a never ending stretch of beach

Stormy waves crashing mercilessly

Upon the barren jagged rocks

Warping away the crags with pleasure

As my love for you everyone laughingly mocks

There will be no rainbow at the end of this rain

Only a dry river bed that lives no more

A shell of a forgotten love left behind

Never to be the same as before

Breathe Blood

Breathe Blood when it's in your skin.
Breathe Blood when it's out of it.

Breathe Blood when it's innocent.
No longer in your skin.

A razor will bring it out of it.

Yes, a lovely, gorgeous, delectable razor will do it all.
I know it may be wrong.

But the feeling is just so strong.
And it doesn't take too long.

I'll cut deep,
And I'll cut a stream.

To Bleed is to go deep.

I've fallen to the floor,
There is blood galore.

I'm bleeding and drowning
I'm drowning and counting

How many seconds I have until I'm dead.
And drowning in what's left.

Breathe Blood when your inhaling it

Breathe Blood when it's in your head

Breathe Blood when it's in your lungs.

Breathe Blood Until you're done.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is another horrible, ugly, deathly, and brutal little poem, I think it's so cute though. But very unpleasant. Again, I'm not suicidal. I just like writing ugly little deathly poems like this, about it.

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Selective Suicide

A Gun or a Rope
Some Pills or to Choke

I'll Cut Deep With a Knife
Until I Bleed Out and Die

Overdose will be considered at most.

Pills and Alcohol
May solve it all

I Want to choke,
But I need a rope

Just put a fucking gun to my head,
Let's end it, that's what I said.

A Beautiful ending
To my life Descending.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is an ugly little poem about suicide. I wrote it in the mind of someone suicidal. I am not not suicidal. I just like writhing deathly little ugly poems like this.

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A Day of My Fate, Which Is Hate...

Emotional Poems

"Emo," they call me
I respond to my "name"
They laugh at me
I hang my head in shame

I walk down the hallways
I do things my way
They say, "hey, emo! You can't stay!"
I pick up my notebook and walk away
I'll stand up for myself
Just not today...

I don't fit in
People stare at me, like I am a sin
I won't fight back
My world is already black

I want to run away
I want to escape
I want to hide away
I don't want my fate

I wish it was too late
I never even got a chance
To change this hate

Battle Scars


How you cut a person so deep
I've been feeling the the pain
I want to be set free
But I cant walk just yet

But they're not the only ones
I can't stand my parents
But there is someone else
That causes trouble for me

I honestly and completely 100%
Sure of his faithfulness
He is my sire and I know
He has played with my head

But I find that he has been
Very grossly mistaken
Well his actions at least,
He was entertaining fems

Its was just one at any time
But to keep this from me
Well you may as well cut me
I found it all out, so you needn't lie

Because I knew that this
Has been goin for some time
So as a result it was
Excatly like this:

He put a knife in me
Turning it and twisting
He pulls my heart out, throws
It on the floor and stomped

Written on
May 3, 2012

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was written over 2 weeks and I have not posted it. Bad me.

This was written about Tom Neville. Yes, he gave me the worst sort of pain. Theres physical, sexual, and mental pain, I belive mental is the worst. You can heal everything else, but mental is Hell. Even though I dont want to think he has done anything, but something is telling me that there has to be more. My feelings haven't been wrong yet, unfortunatly.

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My Apologies


I know what I said

That I deal

With all of your issues

What I said was real


What I didn’t know

Was how deep they ran

And now that I see

I don’t know if I can


I knew you were hurt

But pain heal

I knew you cut

Proved you could feel


You were a loner

Yea but so what

Be alone with me

It did work, but –


I can only hold together

For so fucking long

Before I need someone

To hold me and be strong


Yet the more I fell apart

You too came undone

It makes me want to scream

Worst of all – run


I simply cannot

Do it all

For both of us

One is bound to fall



Written on

March 23, 2009

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This one was written to Eli. About his issues.

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Stuck In Hell


Do you feel alone

When you sit next to me?

Is there a hole in your heart?

Am I that something

That wont let you be?


You’ve hurt me bad baby

Cut me so damn deep

But I still need you

Because you are the one

That makes me weep


I don’t know why I do

But I still hold on

Hoping and wishing

That things will be okay

And we can move on


But we never will

We are stuck in this hell

And I can’t take anymore

We are over now, I’m done

My pain I’ll never tell



Written on

February 12, 2007

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This one was another one to Steve.

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