Situation

This is conditional.
But I am in no condition
to explain its parameters right now.
Even if I had an answer for you
I would probably retract the statement
in less than 24 hours.
Just know that there are boundaries.
However vague and transparent,
they are real.
I will let you know when you cross one.

So You Say

You say that I deserve someone
who can give me what I need.

I say that person is you.

You say it cannot be.

And so I let it be.
Because I know that you’ve been hurt
and you need to work on you.
But you know what?
I’m working on me too.

See, we will never be perfect
and neither will the time.
But you know what would be perfect?
If you
were mine.

Life-Live-Love

Sometimes I think about all the time I’ve wasted
sleeping
daydreaming
moping
avoiding
LIFE.
And I realize that I’m not really living at all.
And I realize that my problems still follow me
no matter where I go.
Arizona.
Costa Rica.
Chile.
REM.
After days
or weeks
or months
or years
of spinning around in circles kicking up dust,
eventually I get tired and I have to stop.
Then the air clears
and I’m left standing in front of the same damn mirror
with the same sad girl staring back at me.
But each time she looks a little bit older
a little wiser
a little stronger
a little more beautiful.
Now if only I could stop focusing on the scars
across my face
across my hands
across my heart,
then maybe I could really move forward
and embrace this beautiful
LIFE
I was given.

Defeat

Man versus antidepressant.
Pretty pill wins.
Ladybugs and smiley faces.
Trading out my sins.
One replaces the other.
Selfish tears and sorrow.
Pushed into the corner.
At least I’ll see tomorrow.
Reality in chemicals.
Disillusioned vision.
Either way will lead to hell.
Choose the pretty prison.

(written 25-April-2006… I have no patience to write anything new but felt like posting this)

Relief

The unspoken love
that I carried in my heart
pumped blood like lead through my veins.
In a moment of clarity
(sickening insanity)
I regurgitated every last blood cell.

Type A negative.

Pools of hemoglobin clotted
on the floor in front of me
and I felt faint at the sight
(anemic chain reaction).
I was suddenly a hundred pounds lighter
and floating above a
chalk-outline silhouette
that could only be my own.

So I stitched my wrists shut
with nothing left to bleed.
Right there on the ground
was all that’s
left of me.