Self-doubt

My day

Every morning I wake incomplete and half full,

In the mid day hours I ask you to push, but instead you pull.

Every day I feel like I am wasting time I can never get back.

But every time I try to get up I fall on my back.

Every night i bite my lips and save the words for a real friend,

And then I let my body fall asleep so I can wake up and do it all over again.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

What my day feels like...

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If I...

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If I cut my arms

Would you still hold me?

If I did you harm

Would you be cold to me?



If I screamed your name

Would you heed my call?

If I was to blame

Would you trust me at all?



If I began to cry

Would you wipe away my tears?

If I were to die

Would you visit my grave every year?



If I were insane

Would you send me away?

If I were blind

Would you show me the way?



If I were sick

Would you still kiss me?

If I didn't have money

Would you still miss me?



If I were in pain

What would you do?

If I loved you

...Would you love me too?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

About Donnie. Again. 2004

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I am you.

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I've always wanted to make you proud

Never get in the way, Never too loud

Straighten my clothes

So no one knows

Smile until my face hurts

So nothing shows

People ask me why I bother trying

If I'm not myself, to you I'm lying

It's not fair to you

I don't know what to do

I want to be perfect

If only for you.

But I know you understand why

You know my secrets... Why I never cry

Why I'm so bleak

About it I don't speak

You wont either, Because you see

I am you and you are me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this after someone told me "You are your worst critic." 2005

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Reflection

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Me

You are so ugly

With your rouge-stained cheeks

Your black Shadowed eyes

Have you eaten this week?



Do not stare back at me

With the tears running down

Like black trails of sadness

Past that sulky frown



Scrub clean those filthy hands

The dirt from under your nails

Quiet your pathetic sobs

And your pitiful wails



Do not touch the mirror

And mimic all that I do

For you cannot be me

And I do not wish to be you

Author's Notes/Comments: 

2006

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Not Enough.

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Not Slender Enough.

Not Pretty Enough.

Not Secure Enough.

Not Witty Enough.

Not Feminine Enough.

Not Happy Enough.

Not Smart Enough

Not Sappy Enough

Not Tame Enough.

Not Compliant Enough

Not Pure enough.

Not Reliant Enough.

....Not Good Enough.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this with the image of what 'beauty' is in the 21st century. Thin, frail, and shy. In other words - the opposite of me. 2006

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The Harmless Elder Sign On My Ankle

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And elder sign.
Such a harmless object, unless your insane that is.
Does that make me insane, as I work with my razor blade.
Just so recently found in my room, two of them.
And now, this harmless elder sign, you Lovecraft people should know it.
It is now making its home on my left ankle.
I write, excuse me, type this now.
Listening to Guns 'N Roses.
And I wonder, am I sinking again?
I try to deny it. It's just harmless fun, right?
I tell this to myself, while the large band-aid begs to differ.
My mom, I told her that I cut it, yeah I did.
But to her, not with a razor blade.
The metal peice under the support beam in my room. Rusty with floodings and damp.
You see, my room is in the basement.
If that was confusing you.
"Did you clean it? You know that rusty cuts are the worst."
"Yeah, I cleaned it."
I told her so she wouldn't find it by herself after time.
Get rid of any suspision right away.
This is getting spotty. Man, I've just drained that out.
And yet I still type.
Why?
Because I wonder if I should tell of the blades to my mom.
I'm scared and confused, so they remain.
And yet, if she were to find the box they came in, why, she would find only one.
Probably ask to see what I've done with it.
I might get sent to Prarie. But not just out patient this time.
The other, hiding with the second disc of my Re-Animator movie. See, more Lovecraft. Hardy har har.
Jeez, this is becomeing a book. Though I think I've gotton rid of all the details.
And so, this elder sign scabs up under my band-aid, after working on it.
But I washed it!
Doesn't that mean it is more than just mindless self infliction???
Or am I just kidding my self.
I have no idea.
Man I need to stop this...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I think this poem explains itself. TTFN, ta ta for now.

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Undeserving

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2006

Take the blade from these bloodied up hands

I don't want to live anymore...

These eyes shed tears for a heart I am to break

For this heart has already been destroyed before

Do you think it could break anymore?

I deserve these wounds, these broken promises

For my heart to be torn until it exists no more

And with this blackened thorn I fall

Whispering my final words to you

Through lips that will never be kissed again...

I love you... I say, but I am undeserving

Please, I beg of you to kill my heart

I dont want to go through this pain anymore

I lost him, and my heart does not care

Because I have your embrace to cover that up with

So slay my love and give me up

I cant love you this way, nobody this way

For I need to be punished...

I am undeserving...

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Growing

there is something deep inside of me,

no longer sleeping, yes it grows.

i'm waiting oh so paciently,

for what it is, who knows?

i question all authority,

i deny the things i preach.

with everything confusing me,

there is nothing for me to teach.

i hide away my sanity,

i pray that this will end.

run away from all the yelling,

so long as i can't be condemned.

my promises are breaking now,

so left and incomplete.

my world is shaking up right now,

there is nothing left for me.

i sigh and shift so awkwardly,

but there is no surprise.

i'll fight away this darkness,

i'll commit mental suicide.

the pieces fall apart so nice,

and together they become old.

i place them close to my heart,

and it is them i grab ahold.

inside of me there is something,

what it is i don't know.

but it looms in front of me,

and now it wants to grow.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

there is nothing left for me.... except for everything...

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Machinations

I bring my own misery,

I drink from my own cup.

And it pours over with my own langour.

I wish I may,

I wish I might,

Have this wish,

I wish every hour.

I hope and pray,

by my undying breath,

until the day my breath dies.

And I know on that day, my wish,

My hopes and prayrs,

Will be unanswered by heavens good Will.

Because I could not take it upon myself.

And no force in heaven or Earth,

Could make my dreams come true.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I had this wish i wished tonight.

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