They tell me that I'm stupid

That I'm my own worst enemy

They tell me all I need is a pill

A toxic little remedy

To numb my mind

& fill the hole

Not mentioning the fact

That it would kill my soul

I'd be dead inside

A zombie, a mime

Which they probably want

Because they don't have time

To care about this wretched mess

That they label drama queen

I'm obviously just faking it

How could i be so obscene?

They'll never get it

They'll never know

What it's like to be me

To be lost so far below

Smothered in feelings

Awash with sorrow

& knowing it will all be

The same again tomorrow

There's no escaping

Who i am

There's no pill that can change

The flow of this dam

I won't find peace

Inside of a bottle

A concoction of poisons

All a mottle

You can scream

& rant & rave

But I won't take your pills

I won't dig my grave

So here i am

All alone

& here i will be

Forever alone

Letting you rape me

& bleed me dry

All because

I cannot die

So I'll cry myself to sleep each night

& pray for God to take me

Because I can't bear another day

Of drowning in this sea

Copyright: CJ

I don't talk to people, because all they see is a freak. They look into my eyes and see nothing but madness. They all tell me I need help, but how can you help what you don't see? These voices in my head weren't invited. You call me a freak because of this burden I have that you don't. You call me a freak because you can't hear them, but I can. I didn't ask for the voices. I try to get them to leave. I cry every night begging them to leave. You call me a freak because you don't know. You look into my eyes and see madness, but really it's countless nights without sleep. You tell people that I'm on drugs because that's the only "logical" thing that can explain this. You call me crazy when I respond to what I think is a person calling my name. I tell my parents and they think I'm looking for attention. I tell my friends and they leave and call me a freak. I am not a freak. I am not crazy. If you could just hear them too, you would know. Maybe I'm not the one who is the freak for hearing them, maybe you are the freak for not.

my poetry

is heartless, chews

like gravel on your teeth,

tastes like your mother,

the cornmeal on her hands

when she tied you up 

in a burlap sack and tried

to drown you in the creek.

i know you want to.

ask, what's it like

to lay down and die?

how many spiders do you swallow

in your sleep? how many

have you strung out, washed

and ironed to fit your piece? 

do girls like you still feel,

can i pinch your skin

until it bleeds, pretend your body

is for tourists and it's a ghost town

once i leave?

you will not take credit 

for the nothing that i am now,

even though we both know

i make a killing off of the pain.

you break us, i build colossus,

then redact your name.