Moving on There's no one else here In this empty sad room.             Chocking oh my own feelings, Suppress, must suppress. And then all at once it bursts. And there's nothing left of me, gloom Surrounding my body like a warm poisonous

Word vomit My body's not important. There's no value to it. It is swinging on the side of the road, Like a lifeless piece of flesh, That it is. The body's insecure and cold, It's inactive and getting old. I toss myself around, With no value it's been ...

Routine I've killed myself slowly every night. I went to bed too late. I went to bed too hungry. I forced myself to write the poetry I used to hate writing. I picked on my skin and scars. I couldn't get out of house.

Disappointed and not surprised my mother, she is from another pla- net she is an odd, a very odd person. she sometimes makes it worse. yet I still do appreciate, the way she took her time and taught her self destructive lessons. it can be still helpf...