Insomnia

{Photocredit:Graphics99.com}

Sleepless eyes and loveless lives.
How have I become her?
The girl who counts her sheep
between the sheets of confusion.
With sixteen memories
 repeatedly pounding their image
onto the sheet metal that is my brain. 

"You"

Just -----------------------------------{I named my toothbrush after you}

Like---------------------------------------{You taught me to rock climb}

Someone---------------------------------------------------------{Nurse}

Better----------------------------------------------------{Hockey cards}

Keep----------------------------------------------------------{Survivor}

Doing---------------------------------------{You were my first valentine}

Better-----------------------------------------------{Cops and Robbers}

Just-----------------------------------------------{You'd walk me home}

Listen-------------------------------------------------{I still can't explain}

Again---------------------------------------{I made a website about you}

Run---------------------------------------------------------{That locket}

Better----------------------------------------------{Turned out to be gay}

Now-----------------------------------------------------------------{Boats}

Catch------------------------------------------------{Sorry for the deceit}

Loose---------------------------------------------------------------{First}

There------------------------------------------------------------{Mistake}

Better?--------------------------------------------------{I guess we'll see :D}

Poison

{photocredit:theballerinaproject}

I've seen the pleasure that poison can bring

watched it trickle down to their souls.

Kissed the tainted lips full of heat

and been seduced by it myself;

but to sober would be to doubt

the endless pleasure

 of slowly killing myself.

Melody

{photocredit:theballerinaproject}


these words I scribble here, retort what life breaths
silently mocking the irony of living in this
futile state.
yet somehow I find solace in the chard pieces left
broken,
in my hands.
as people walk by
contempt written on the right corner of their eyes
for crimes I never committed.  

Enough

{PhotoCredit:Theballerinaproject}

And I'll double knot these untied shoes 

so I can run back,

TRIP

over my past yet again?

NO! This time I've learned, 

learned to step out of the constraints of laces and run forward.

Pointing one pretty toe after the other 

as my feet rebound off the scorching pavement.

To trip over new pot holes rather then the same old familiar ones

sure, it might hurt more...

but how else can I win this race?