The Writer's Library.

Heartbeat. The heart beats and beats and beats itself up, every moment of life. Beating itself up until it cannot beat one beat more.  With motivation it beats faster and faster with vigor, chanting and howling, only to collapse and beat weakly when its energy is spent.  Softly it beats in our sleep. So quiet and lonely, it quietly continues to beat itself.  Softly it beats when we wake, always so quiet and lonely.  Beating itself up when we are sad, beating itself when we are joyful, that loud red organ.  With each beat it brings us life, yet it beats itself because it wishes to die. 

In classes, when my mind wanders, it always goes to the same tangent: What if someone came in right now and shot me in the head?   It would be easy. In each of my classes I sit in the front corner farthest from the door. A clean shot. An easy enter, and an easy escape. But sometimes I don't think about that; its a good day when I don’t.  Today was different, I was having a good day, and I thought about it. I thought how I wouldn’t mind if it happened, because I’d die when I was in a rare good mood. That was today. I’m stressed, I needed you. I needed something to hold on to and nurture. I needed to lay your head on my chest and pet your hair.  I needed you, but I didn't tell you, because I felt guilty. It was 3 am. I hadn't gotten sleep. I tried pills. I tried wine. Nothing. I was in agony.  I had myself half convinced I should leave you for your own good. All I’m good for is destroying things; all I touch withers. Nothing th...

I wait for the moon to rise, So I may stir from my stony rest, And unleash myself onto the world. The silence feels velvety warm On my dry skin, Restoring its healthy lush and spring. What a pity that others cannot see This youthful, invigorated, opulent, glowing spirit. Only in the darkness do I feel this way, For once the light comes, I crumble back into cold marble, With glassy eyes.

This is it. I have gone mad. Lock me away in a padded room, And throw away the key. All I ask is a pad, and some dull pencils, That I may scribble down the Madhouse of my mind, Believing myself to be in Blissful, delusional peace. Tell them I love them, That they fill my thoughts, While my mind shall still have them. Tell them all to carry on, And be happy. The rest of you may forget about me; Do not visit. What good to me is any love that I did not have to earn?

Listen to the silence It will teach you sorrow Sometimes it tells me There is no tomorrow Listen to the silence No one is calling. It tells me I am not missed. Listen to the silence It showed me a way out It tells me Death is without doubt.

Tick and tock, Sounds the clock, HOW I CANNOT BEAR THIS. It is not the clock that sounds, Instead it is my heart that pounds. THE SOUND OF MY HEART SLOWLY BREAKING. For every moment you stay quiet, My soul is sent into a riot. I BEG OF YOU TO SPEAK YOUR MIND.

Here’s to never ending circles, Spiraling circles of pain. Here’s to hoping it would stop, The spiraling circles of pain. Here’s to knowing it never will, This spiral of pain. Why does it all mean nothing to me now? Why don't I feel pain when I should? Does this mean I cease to be human anymore? I feel so useless that I’d still somehow function even if my brains were pulled out through my nose. Is everything ok? Nothing and everything under the sun. Fuck sophisticated poetry, fuck eloquent words. Here’s to being exhausted, Waiting for this bomb to drop. And here’s to sleepless nights, Only getting drunk to fall asleep. Yeah, I’ve been abused. Yeah, I’ve been put down. Yeah, I’ve been on the mend. But I never had friends to begin with, so it doesn't matter in the end.

Tears. Water. Drowning. Drawing a bath. Back to tears. Sobbing uncontrollably on the floor. Grief. Is this what grief is like? I've never felt grief. What a strange new emotion for me. Grief. Curled on the floor, sobbing. Shaking. Gasping. Shuddering. Crying. Agonizing. Grief. Water, rivers, cold tears and hot emotions. The ferocity and emptiness of grief.

         Exploding out, atom by atom breaking away. In that moment, I cease to exist physically. A dark numbness and tingling, keeping me from moving. Its like my body turns to static waves. Screaming in silence. Sorrow, but not sorrow. Sadness with anxiety, tears with agitation. Scratching, scratching, scratching. The sound of static, coming closer, getting louder. Not eating. Picking at my food. Focusing on breathing. Each breath harder, more forced. Sucking in the air, your throat closing up like a straw. Fighting to keep the static away. All concentration aimed at continuing the function of feeble lungs. The heart running with adrenaline. The static moving. Moving to the face, moving to the chest. Taking control and stopping  all feeling, all capability of movement, freezing, stopping. Everything shutting down. Shutting down. Shutting. Down.

I've been thinking so much... Death is too easy, I don't want death.... I thought about slicing my thighs open, vertically starting at the knees to my hips ...just the aesthetic of it, flesh peeling back from the bone....It makes me laugh and feel giddy... Laughing SO MUCH. I'm shaking so much from adrenaline. I want to rip apart something with my sharp fangs, feel the blood gush and burst and pop in my mouth. I want to shred something to ribbons, the way I was. I was shredded into ribbons, and hung up to wither in a cold, numb, unfeeling meat locker, mafia style. My heart is palpating, pounding at my chest. I feel so feverish.. SO MUCH BLOODLUST.... So much pain...