Am I a coward who can't face

The daily struggles from the moment I open my eyes or

Am I so courageous that in spite of this heavy unwillingness, I still rise every morning and face these mundane and almost ludicrous tasks?!

What is this?

Why is this so hard for me?

What is the ultimate purpose for this constant fight?

What for and for what?

Everything will inevitably end

Just like all roads lead to an end

A precipice?

A wall?

I would jump if I only knew the fear would cease

I would smash my face with all my might if I only knew the ache would stop

I am ready!! READY, you hear?!

So, please, come and take me

End this unforgiving battle

I am weary

i will not cry

i will not cry

i will not cry

i will not cry

i will not cry

and then i cried

Wonderland

Ain't ready

For an Alice like this

She shanked

The Mad Hatter

Then

Stole all his shit

She's smokin' a cig

Adjusting the Hat

With a "crazy-eyes" smirk

Striking match after match

They say Queen of Hearts

Is kinda' concerned

Because...well, you know-

Playing cards burn!

-DeRicki

I often write of loneliness,

And often sing of pain.

I spill ink with cruel intentions,

Though I have nothing to gain.

I always miss the subtle cues

And expose too many secrets.

I inhale attention like oxygen,

And exhale lies like cigarettes.

I spend far too many mornings,

Just laying here in bed.

Wishing I hadn't drank so much,

And blocked your number instead.

You might get all my voicemails,

All my drunken texts and tears,

But the one thing that always haunts me,

Is that these bedroom walls have ears.

They've heard you say you love me,

They've heard your snoring slumber,

Yet somehow nine months later,

Your softest whispers echo like thunder.

Basking in your memory,

I lay within these walls.

You think I'd mind the sleeplessness,

But in fact I don't at all.

It brings me back to golden sunsets,

And the warmth of your lips on mine.

When I close my eyes, I can hear you saying,

"I love you"

for the last time.

she thinks she has to cry

for him to hear her.

she thinks he can't see her unless she asks,

that he doesn't want her

unless she promises painful things,

that she is there only to please him,

to be his toy.

but she doesn't know that

he doesn't own her.

she doesn't know that it would be

completely fine

to close her mouth,

turn away and run.

he can't drag her back.

he can't track her down.

she doesn't know

that she can do anything that she wants,

without asking for his permission.

Don't fall for the calm water, for the cruel waves will come inevitably, and leave behind only the truest of destruction. They threaten far more than my life each time they return. In truth it feels like they have taken far more. No survival rate, so its a wonder how each time the chaos subsides, somehow him and I still stand. Unbroken by the beating, we find a way to pick ourselves up again, and again. But after each hit we find ourselves with less. Less to keep us fighting the blows that keep on coming. There's always fear in whether or not we will survive another, or if when the storm passes only one of us will stand. There's no choice but to trust in the power of it. It is true madness, but all we have is that moment the waves break, when we see each other, and know we're together again. If I look close enough it's not hard to see the miracle of it, rather than just the mess. But it's easy to become blind when your stuck in the eye of the storm.

I told her straight,

“And I was really trying hard

not to let you down first

-or at least to not be the first one

for once.”

and she cried there

and told me she was

sorry about fucking

another man

after she had told me

how shitty it was of her friends to do

something like that to their men

after she told me that

I was the only one she would

ever be like that again with

and the kettle screamed

and I poured the water

into her French press and

plunged the grounds to the bottom

and it was night out and we were fighting

she hit me hard inside the chest

with combinations and pictures of

her fucking this guy

and I stood there and

took it

and her eyes were full

of disappointment in

me but mostly in herself,

but that could not stop me

her mouth was quivering with

guilt and depression over the whole thing

the last three days she had been crying and

trying to patch it up with me

-sobbing her regret and love and

new, solid oaths

but that could not stop me

and I was full with all of the love and pain and

hidden things perverted and pure

I’d shared with her

the absolute trust I had given her and

no others

I stood in the kitchen

while she filled the air with her

precious mouth

I took a long and dull blade from a

big slit in the knife rack and I

carved an X into her torso

from outside of her shirt

and I punched her square in her

fucking teeth

and she bled there

and it was true blood

I bought her the French press

after we’d made love the first

night

and I asked her sternly

to drink the coffee

and she did

and I knew the caffeine hurt her

gums right then

she reached over the stove and grabbed the

lighter and some whiskey

she broke the bottle over my skull

and lit me on fire

and I stood there

burning

I answered the phone in flames

and she bled and I stood there on fire

and told my boss my car had been stolen

and when he asked me when it had

been stolen

I told him

two hours ago

and when he asked me why I didn’t

take the bus

I told him I had broken my foot

he hung up

and I hung up

and the flames fanned

around me

and her blood was

rain on the statue

of a once sacred

thing

destroyed either

by herself or another

but never both for her

and we stood there for

hours and I burned and she bled

and it was daylight.