a_poem_on_cutting yummychuckle this sucks but here goes... oh, and no longer do i have some of these veiws (the whole death thing) I'm flaunting my fixation on these foolish folds of flesh. the cuts are old but the pain so fresh. these tiny tears cus no one cares I'm slicing my skin cus I'm not thin crude, comforting cuts cuz it doesn't take guts a lovely little line Don't worry, i feel fine. Piercing pain cus maybe I'm insane painful penalty cus im not as skinny as i should be. ruptures of red cus i wish i was dead. yeah so anyways there is another and i never seem to realize how dumb these poems out til i type them, but fuck it. none of you know me anyways, right? Plus I can fall back on my excuse of me being a naive 14 year old. another one... your silver smile shines bright reflecting the luminescent moonlight i screwed up today. I knew you'd understand. lately all i need is you, and I hold you in my hand. Left wrist is still bleeding-- never the right one you know. THEY don't know you like I do... THEY think you're a foe... But really, no one else cares and THEY don't give me the pain I crave. I know this habit is sick it draws me closer to my grave. but when i have a hard day and THEY seem to want me dead, you do your job and bring forth my sudden red. so yea, there it is. there they are. see my_left_side maybe. peace. 010622 ... it slices it dices it juliennes fresh blade in oily film slide past the notch and into my waiting hands the soft, deliberate stroke and the rose in bloom bicep and forearm (the long sleeves are best) down the sternum call it what you want and maybe i'm wrong but these are the teears i can't show you the words i can't tell you the shit you just would not understand because it isn't happening to you right here right now (and before some of you say what i know you will say, this isn't the musing of some forlorn teenager, i'm a grown man and my blades and my black jacket have been the only constant i have ever known) 010622 ... baby satan slice plop 010623 ... devalis the heart bleeds its crimson red so silent and sweet pierced from truthless promises said it stops its wounded beat thick red wine on mirrored glass broken by my rage cuts hurt less than memories cast that lock me in this cage tears stream down the scarred red cheeks mixing red with white onto the glass where beauty seeks to make me hate this sight it takes the life I have gone without the breath so calm and free the space that let me fly above the eyes that really see that black glass that through my eyes saw inside my soul reflected all the demon's lies that I had been told it killed my song the whole of me and then it thieved my sight and all it was to really see was ended on that night 020816 ... cheer-up-emo-kid my old best friend wrote this. its more about suicide, but its really good. A mile a minute, a mile a minute, it all runs through my head. Thoughts I never knew I thought, I think that I am dead. Or just wishing there upon a great big wishing star, It'll get a hold of you one day, cause it knows just where you are. Sad days never end and boundless gags, the feeling grows only deeper, Til its out of hand throughout the land, til it reaches the Grim Reaper. He'll help you out, He'll get you there, let go of this place, Try to forget words been spoken, try to forget your face. Cause it doesnt matter down there, youre nothing down below. And no wonder why you feel this way, no onder youre so low. Look at your life until this point where it ends, Look at the life you've left behind, look at your tear jerked friends. The one in particular, she'll cry ten times harder than anyone else, you know this, youre smarter. So act that way, its your last chance to, now that you are gone. You never got to see the sunrise for the last time, oh how you'll miss the dawn. Cause its dark in hell, beleive me, I know it all too well. I know it better than all of you, I know this cause I fell. Like you, except that you are stupid, and I know that you are wrong. Too bad I couldnt get it out before the end of this song. You still cant run, you still cant hide, this dying death called suicide. 020817 ... Sailor Jupiter "SI Artwork" The razor is my brush, the blood my paint. If I work at this enough I'll make the meat I'm trapped in as horrific as my nightmares. 020817 ... Lick Enter elevator. 040214 ... borad better take my pill before its tomorrow... 040214 ... tarantula oh COME ON! it's not fair i thought you were supposed to be 'ole supra brillo-brilliant beyond the words in my fabulous fucking head? Yeah, i follow every fucking step and what happens? you will go, "Oh well, you have to do something else," and then it'll be, "Oh just climb this little step here and..." it's not fucking fair, why should i take it on good faith? i mean i really don't care if i do or don't it is now the principle of the thing because you fucking want me to do it so badly. i give in and you will laugh, "Ha, Ha, Ha you sure are soft and stupid!" Why would i want to hear that crap? give me one good reason? asshole. i suppose there will be some sort of penalty for name calling as well? Fucking typical.(iwannabea spider) 040215 what's it to you? who go blather from