Ace of Spades

theres an innocence in my doubt. How could this really be happening? Washing away the stains on the wall; our teeth are coffee colored yellow. The residue from out past is splattered on the greenest of grass and here I am, wondering just why you like me. Chasing falling stars like a dog chases the bright cars. Unable to see through the blackest of a canvas; the night is comforting. Staring, wondering; where did we bring this? I am touched by a hand that cares. hands swimming through the tide of my weary soul. He has yet to hit the deep end. The deepest of my oceans, hides a scary thought. A creature created out of fear, lust and insecurity. "All of the above" whispers the devil as he hands god The Ace of Spades. I am so scared.A sadist for a year, a slave girl for life. Abused and used; I am not used to that smile; those looks; your patience. Your emotions are so foreign to me. I feel out of place. bad days blend into bad months and you close your mouth tight. shutting out our only daylight. Speaking in silence, I wish you could swim in my pain. My brain, rots before the saddest of eyes. I am just waiting for another piece of me to slowly die.

Accidents in mid air. I told you I wasn't fully aware. My beauty rots before you; you love me still. I wish you were different, I wish you liked what they didnt. Repressing age old thoughts and dying memories. I think I am more damaged then I would like to admit. Dragged myself through hell and back again. The look on their face; priceless. I am stumbling, attempting to kiss the dark goodbye. Tripping over circumstance after circumstance. Does he like me just the way I am? There is an innocence in my supression. I am scared, I am lonely; I am always guilty. A hand raised to love me and I coward in fear. What have you done to me? what have I done to myself? The art of pain painted across my fragile face. Does he know just how careful I need to be handled? Placing me inside a heart shaped box made of cardboard and lies. I am trying my hardest not to fucking cry. I have lost a piece of myself; I am finding the rest. Embedded in someone else's soul... I lost my very best.

Sad faces in an empty crowd. There is a part of me that cannot be found.

I know thats a pisser baby.

Streams of light
piercing your skin
my brain is
disconnected.
A hammer
a nail
into my head
bleeding from the core.
This wall
Our wall
Your wall.
So thin
the truth echoes
somewhere between
you and space.
My bed is cold
your thoughts are warm
my hands are dying
your voice is worn.
wrap me
in your pretty wings
oh dearest angel
you are my reward
for our suffer.
A mind is caught
somewhere between
past and present
future is a weary myth.
cynical and practical
i don't want to answer the phone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ghost passing us
by on the empty streets
of our hearts.
I am a rambling fool.
Silly, sick and sedated.
This is the remainer
of the dominator
after we have divided
one into two.
Two into three
and subtracted everyone
but myself.
slip me your love drug
the one that spins me
in circles and never
lets me crash.
carry my heart
as heavy as the sun
as hot as winter
as cold as summer
as beautiful as the leaves
when they fall from
their only owners.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
stairway made of glass
stepping carefully
trying not to make a noise
as the coward
runs away with our gold.
Lurking, stirring in the
halls of clumbsiness
The walls are caving
in.
Petals of perfection
wilt away before our eyes.
stairway made of glass
broken and shattered.
glass that sounds so beautiful
as it breaks
moment by moment
word by word
thought after thought
repeating the circumstances
over and over and over.
shattered.
~~~~~~~~~~
I am the masochist
who you elect
to play the fool.
time and time again
i rehearse these lines
and you always tell me
I forgot a word.
Your guilt
over rides your smile
you are consumed
with regret
mass consumption
for the lost and confused.
I am the masochist
who you always want
to play your fool.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your pointless voice
I am sorry
we are not what
we used to be.
Your pointless
empathy.
Where was it
while you were
killing me?
You ride
your guilt
until the wheels are
bald and the body
is rusty.
I am not your mobile
device.
I am not your anything.

and I think my head is caving in....

Breathe, oh silent child, oh steady. breathe in my loyal affliction. I am covered in scars. So much I could share, should I? will I? I should no longer hide, this is what I am. Falter to the sound of a crashing ego. ashes to ashes we all fall down. I am not censored now. I can breathe. I am healing. Can anyone see this? Is it apparent? My process of healing. The process of elimitnation. A life of sorrow, and an eye for pain. I am like a mouse that watches the hawk circling around my head. I am praying he does not dive in. I am dinner, i am the only feast so many have had. I need to eat. Nurioush me. This is just rambling. Perhaps I am the only one who understands it. that is okay. No one needs to understand me. Everyone needs to understand me. I scream. I vent. I cry. I am not perfect. You are not perfect. Is there such a thing as a savior. I am not a saint. And I am not the one who will save you from everything you are. I am what you want to be; I am what you never want to see. I cry often. I could never cry before. Now it just pours out. I am mush. I am not really sure how this makes me feel. there are no longer walls, and I am no longer in a hard shell of hate. I am not angry; i am just tired. I no longer run. i take my time walking. sometimes the sun shines so much and makes me feel alive and I want to run. But I should learn from the past. Why would now be any different? And so I was asked the question of a lifetime last night. How do you know? You don't. You won't ever, until it is done. Until it is. And even sometimes, you may never know until it is too late. This is life. This is what we have created. Pieces upon pieces of sorrow and happiness stitch together to make a quilt. A quilt too heavy to carry, but too thin to keep us warm. We need more pieces.

I need new pieces. I have sewn all the other pieces together and now I have nothing left to create. I may have found a piece, but lets not get too hasty and start to sew just yet. I am just sore from the things I have seen, the lies i have been told and sometimes, just sometimes I want to cry. Sometimes I want to talk about it, but I don't want to sound like I needyour pity. I want you pity. I just want a hug. I am mush. Look at me now. I can breathe. I am in liquid form. Looking to absorb. Is it terrible that i have been abused repeatively? Is it circumstantial that I was ever abused? Am I abusing myself daily, when I tell myself you are still not good enough?

I am healing. It is a process. I hope they can see it. I hope it is apparent in my smile. I am still broken and sometimes I just may need to cry. Will he let me cry? Will he let me be broken forever? Or will he just be there when I need him the most? Will he let me grow and become my own, while he supports me and cherish me? Will he cherish me? will he throw me away? These are questions I do not want answers to.

I am tired. Let's not run.

Paperdoll Whore.

Make me pretty. Dress me up and tell you your secrets. Paint my lips red and my eyes black as night. I am fragile, I am weak; I just want to be pretty. Give me your eyes for just one day. I want to see things through your eyes. I want to know what you think. I am amused, I am confusd; I am seeking this abuse. And torture is a mystery that you paint across my body. In the words of this forbidden sin. And I want you to make me pretty and tie little bows around my ankles, and bells around my neck. And I want to roam freely, and never regret a moment we share. But I dont want to be a whore to this victim. And I dont want to be something I hate. I dont wanna runaway scared from you, so I ask you to dress me up in your pretty gowns and wipe these black tears away.