Down the road, where once on jogs I might've turned around. There I stopped and lingered still, but did not turn around.
My heart grew hard and carried on a beat deep inside of me.
I kept on going past the marker to see what lay ahead. There I found I could not think, lest I surely drown.
So stopped was I with feelings deep, I found I could not run.
So there I waited to clear my head and yet it all grew worse. The trees that once would stand me up, now have all grown weak.
Water once that lifted me, has begun to let me sink.
And now, upon my road, where once I could have run. I find myself so stopped inside, I cannot hardly stand.

All men think of one thing. Getting into my fucking pants.
I was nearly attacked on my way home tonight by a guy I don't know very well. He was giving me a lift and is a friend of a friend. He tried to push himself on me when he knew I have a boyfriend. Men are fucking animals.

I hate men.

I may never have sex, fucking pigs.

I wish there was someone I could talk to, just as a friend, who would understand, someone who would be my friend because being my friend is enough. Not because they want in my pants. I am so tired of being used...

I've been working myself to death, but the odd thing is that I'm actually kinda happy lately. But also I've been kinda sick so don't worry if I don't write you for a while.

I am numb.

I watched a movie about a woman who waited all day for her fiancé to show up at the wedding. I watched a fiancé struggle to return to the woman he loved and I saw a man fall in love with his fiancée all over again. I watched this broken as I am. I watched this dying as I am.

I cannot move forward or backward. I can simply stay. Simply be. Forever broken and un-forgiven. I cannot watch this tired movie any longer. The brokenness, the silent pain, the everlasting confusion. If I resign myself to no longer love, to no longer feel, perhaps I can survive once more. Day in, Day out. No emotion. No fear. No regrets.

One handed I wish I could drive the knife. Silent. Deadly. Irreversible. I would perish, and still survive. Undead. Unliving. Unhuman. A broken mask is easily tossed aside. A broken soul however cannot feel what it doesn’t believe it lacks. I have no purpose. No reason for changing, for growing, for living, or loving.

The cement stares back at me. Cold. Hard. This will be it. No crying. No feeling. No missing what once I would have fought for.

Heart, this is my last letter. Perhaps this is my final goodbye. Heart. I loved every minute you let me know I lived. But time is growing short. I cannot bear the weight one lone heart endures. I kept watch over you. Through the long nights in silent companionship. There we were. Together. But too many are the risks I face. A heart such as you is no benefit to anyone. A heart that cannot be loved. I loved few people in my life. I dearly gave them all I had to offer. One, taken. One, pulled from my fingers. One, by choice. I cannot love for fear that I will break. I cannot feel for fear that I would understand what I wish to do tonight.

It is not my life to be given all that which I doubt I deserve. It is my life to understand the burden I bear. I am weak. Weaker now then when I had no concern. I always feared losing more than being alone. I used to sit in my room for hours. Alone. Not talking, not moving. Just… being. Alone. I feared the loss more than I feared being eternally alone.
In the end, caring little for most and loving few has still backfired. I could weep for years at the losses I have suffered. I didn’t cry. Now it seems, looking back on my unnumbered silences that I realize how much I don’t wish to feel at all.
I want to forget all my brokenness. I want to forget.
Forget Dianne, and how she loved me. How she believed in me.
Forget Stephanie, who should not have been taken.
Forget Jessica. She will be one of the hardest to forget. But please, dear heart, soul. Forget her. I cannot bear the separation. It is though my soul is being ripped from me. I cannot bear such burdens without her.
But mostly. Forget John. Forget everything he said. Everything he made you feel. Nothing can come of loving a lie. No tears. No feeling. He is lost to you now. Dear heart, please understand. He is the most dangerous foe of all. He will break you. He will leave you. He doesn’t even want you. Dear heart. He will show everything. He will light the rooms with a smile. He will melt you. There is nothing you could hide from him. But he will not know. He will never return what you feel.

Heart, dear beating pulse. You have nothing left to gain and you have already lost everything. Your worst fear has come to pass because you were weak. Because you gave yourself to someone who never knew you.

It will be painless. Sweet destruction. I promise you will be remembered. But the hour is growing late. No time for looking back. Heart. I need you no more. Dear friend, who pains me, I would live for you, for each moment of feeling, had you not deceived me.

You promised me, I could be loved. A lie I fell for, time and again. I have lost too much to turn back now. Too many memories. Too much pain. I have suffered more than any. All for you. I loved for you. It is too late. I have put this task aside too many times.
Goodbye dear soul. Farewell tempestuous emotions. I cannot forgive the deception.

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.

Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.
Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.
Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.
The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

fingertips brush my hair
i can feel him crawling
ripping all i thought i was
bitter red blood
it aches through me
and i am gone
lost in pain
tortured by my despair
he is coming
save me
crushed beneath
a thousand whispers
of a life i can never have
i am lying here
crying weakly
don't you hear it?
screaming in the night
the ache of your trechery
burning the core of who i am
it pounds
beneath my screaming breast

help me
anyone

I can feel the heat of a demon, beating in my chest and the million truths I would have spoken stumbled in my eyes. It is in the early dawn that I feel the deepest pain. I hear his howling echo and feel as the demon boy bristles against the sun. His hair like ragged nails, dragged across an icy bed, brush rough against my skin. And all that touched left veins of ribbons surging from my breast. His knowledgable apathy caused the scarring that ensued and all I did I did in fear. For oneself to bind to a demon, unforgotten, throughout the hands of time is to join the pulsing currents of an echo to the reverberated silence.

The earth grows wild around the bloodied soil, which feet weren't meant to trample. My fingers clutch tightly to the many rising bars that will not set me free. I feel his muscles tighten in their long awaited hunger. He will not stop with me. My lips lean up a howl and echo in the open field, streaming up the rivers, and chasing down my youth. Past the rivers and mores where once I would have ran and there it stops. Edging on the brittle path. I hear it go no further. I cannot bear to enter yet, the darkness deep within.

The shiver of his claws sends my heart to run. And turning their I heard the screams. The trees cry out their hate, for all I would not try to stop. His eyes can see my running and catch my very breath. The yellow of their pain, poisons my every nerve, burning through my flesh. The barren earth for the dead will sprout, letting forth a time of healing. His will be all and my soul be done. I do not think the earth will grow. Barren as it was before, even in my darkest hour, I cannot help a soul.