Romanticized Suicide

I just want to cry in your arms until I fall asleep. Fall asleep in your arms one last time and never wake up. I want you to hold me as my mind finally finds peace.

Hold my hand while I pull the trigger. Help me fill my pockets with stones and hold my hand until I sink into the waters. Kiss me on the forehead right before I swallow the pills and hold my body tight until I overdose.

Wipe my tears as you look into my eyes and see how hopeless I can be. See how weak I am, how sick I am, how tired I am. Look into my eyes and see what it’s like to be dead inside one’s body.

Bullet After Bullet

I rest the barrel against my head as my eyes water. My eyes water, but not of distraught or pain, but of hope. A hope of peace and a hope of being settled. A smile forms across my face as my finger clenches against the trigger. A ringing fills my ears as my soul steps out of my body. I look down upon my lifeless body doing nothing more than making a mess, taking up space.

The ringing stops.

I feel it in my chest. I feel it. It is still here.

I drop to my knees as the demons walk out of the shadows.

“Oh honey did you really think you could get rid of us that easily”

I grab the gun from my dead body and raise it to my head. I pull the trigger and the bullets shoot through me into the wall. Bullet after bullet until the chamber is empty. Laughter fills the room along with my now hopeless sobs. I crawl to my body and lay with it in the pool of blood which has formed. I cradle my dead body in my arms as the torment continues.

“You will never escape us”

They surround me and I realize I will never be free from this.

Don’t Do It

And the anxiety comes.


“What’s wrong?!”

“It doesn’t matter. Goodbye.”

“Don’t do it”

Don’t do it….then the world is supposed to be perfect. Don’t do it and all the pain will go away. Don’t do it and you will be okay…happy. Don’t do it, just simply don’t do it. I didn’t do it and I cry. The heart stopping, breath breaking, and body crippling me is still here. But everything is supposed to be perfect because he cares. He has to care because he said “don’t do it.” Don’t do it and I fell back into the burning hell inside my head, as I remain trapped under the blankets on my bed, as I feel parts of me die. Don’t do it, but I couldn’t control the part that did.

A Few of My Flaws

I am so stuck.

This pit of emptiness absorbs me.

Everything’s black.

There’s nothing.

My shoulders circle uncomfortably.

My grip tightens.

I pull my hair to try to find grounding.

I hyperventilate until I am on the brink of death.

My fingers run down my thighs,

smooth to rough to smooth.

My cuts smile back at me proud.

Another cut, another day I fought to stay alive.

The desire to scream.

The feeling of it not being okay, never forgiving myself.

I never fought back, didn’t yell for him to stop.

My passive anger remains bottled.

You Promised

Depression wipes my tears as he chokes me so sweetly close to death. He releases and allows me to take a breath. And repeat. And repeat. And I hyperventilate this time when he lets go because I forgot how to take in breaths slow. My body won’t stop shaking as I pace the room. All my panic shouts at my lungs as they refuse to calm, as they refuse to fill. I think of all the times I have apologized for shaking. All the times I explained that “I’m fine. It’s normal. I’m okay.” Then I gasp and stop. I stop trembling and I hold my breath until I inhale silently. Exhale and the feeling of emptiness in my chest rises.

Depression chains me to my bed so that I can’t move. I sit still. Too still. As part of me remains trapped in my body, my soul feels like it’s gone. I am half alive and half dead. I think of all the times I have regretted not being there for someone. Hurt someone and felt nothing, but later hated myself in every part of my being for being such trash. For embodying the devil’s spirit as depression laughs at me. He tightens my chains.

Depression hands me a blade. He’s screaming. He’s screaming and he won’t stop. I can’t breath. I’m shaking. I can’t stop shaking as my hand shifts, the blade tears open my skin. “Oh my God Mommy you promised they would help me,” as I watch the blood leave my body. “Mommy you promised they could help me,” cut after cut after cut.

Depression grabs the blade and pours alcohol over my body. I scream in pain. He applies pressure to stop the bleeding. He laughs in my face as he says not yet; we are just getting started.

“It’s okay to cry”

I stare into my eyes as the tears fall down my cheek. My crystal blue eyes gleam back at me in the mirror. My demons take root in me. “God I am so beautiful when I am in pain” I feel comfort in my hurt. A level of acceptance in my tears that I cannot form when I smile. To my eyes, my smile is nothing more than a fake picture framed for all to see. Allowing everyone else to keep their level of comfort in the idea of my contentment. In the idea that I feel something other than self hate when I see my teeth shine through my lips, in the moments where my demons like to tease me with the idea of happiness. Then they remind me of how beautiful I am when I frown. When the corners of my lips remain down… like my head… like my body in my bed. With all of these voices in my head, no I swear I am not crazy, but maybe, just maybe, I am lying. I stare into my eyes as the tears fall down my cheek. It’s okay to cry they remind me, but God forbid I crack a smile. Crack a smile and they crack the whip on the resting being of my anxiety. Now sprinting, frantic. The panic attack begins.  I stare into my eyes as the tears fall down my cheek. I realize I am no longer there. I calm. My chest is empty and my ears ring in the sound of my ending. I exhale slowly hoping it’s the last time. I breathe back in as I cry and cry and cry. I watch the tears leaving their mark on my face. Reminding me that my death is trapped in a still living body. My body the house of a lost soul which died long ago. I stare into my eyes as the tears fall down my cheek. And I stare into the face of death. Me.

Love isn’t all

My eyes lit up in the dark,

only turning the light on to leave my own marks.

As if a cut will remove all the hate in my body

suck the venom from my veins.

But my brain manufactures every pain,

sending tears down my face

and keeping me stuck in this place.

As my soul continues to rot to nothing:

nothing more than a dead body buried 6 feet under,

nothing more than ashes sprinkled in the air.

My death spreading more and more despair.

And when my he whispers to me,

calling upon my ghostly presence:

“I loved you and I cared

and baby I was always there.”

I will say “I’m sorry,

but your love couldn’t fix me.”

He always told me he loved me.

The word “love” seeping through my damaged heart,

reminding me of how broken I was each time I fell apart in his arms.

Frost Bite

Inhale and exhale slow cool breathes. My lips part as the air glides through my lips to become visible. The air bites at my skin and the snow burns it. I try to wiggle my toes and nothing. I look at my hands which are starting to blacken. The tingling in my legs is slowly fading. I try to swallow, but find that my saliva has worn thin. My body is slowly quitting on me and each passing moment I feel less. I manage to tilt my head back so I can look at the night sky. I slide so that less of my back is against the light post, but now my head’s at least supported. The light dimly shines on me and I do my best to maneuver so that I can see the stars. Snowflakes fall over my body and I blink away one that lands on my eyelash. My body no longer trembles and I rest on the ground waiting as my body freezes. My heart rate is slowing and my breathing faint. My eyelids become heavy and I watch as the starlight turns into nothingness.

Depression, my love

I don’t know if I can do this anymore. Well I can, but the thought of giving up just sounds so sweet to me. I hold on tight to the one thing I know, but will never understand. Depression, my love, wraps his hand around my hip and pulls me in close. His lips rest on me as he places delicate lethal kisses all over my body. I am too tired to deny the attraction I have to his promises of dying, so I submit to him. He spews delicious words of suffocation and stone still eyes glazed over, like the icing of nothingness on a cake, into my ears. My body shivers, but his grip tightens forcing me to hold it all in. My body aches, and I watch as his lips curve up into a devilish smile. At least I make someone happy, I think to myself, as a tear slides down my cheek. I close my eyes as his cold dry hands run down my body. My screams remain locked in my throat, but I swallow, hard, and open my eyes. I stare into the face of depression and say, “I am yours.” His eyes burn with passion as he rolls on top of me, strips me of my sanity, and fills me with pure and true darkness.

“What’s wrong?’

You ask me “what’s wrong”

and I am really trying to stay strong.

But I sit around all day long

with a tornado for a mind and crypt as a bed,

with demons ripping me into pieces within my head,

and the only thing I want is to be dead.

Yes, when I touch the cool air

there is cold, but really no feelings there.

And I’ve noticed that the way I love remains unfair:

push push away,

but my soul begs you to stay.

And through these tears I admit I am afraid

because throughout the years

that I have been here

my purpose has been blurry and a little unclear.

My body rocks as my heart stops,



Then the numbness of death fills my chest

like the same feeling of what little love I have left,

the little bit of hope which makes me obsessed.


I must go.

So I drag my body, slow.

Slowly my skin scabs and bruises

and I’m content with all the blood my body loses.

I know, my words don’t seem to make much sense,

but the feeling in my body is so intense.

I’m sorry for not being okay

and I’m sorry if my love is just in your way.

And I am sorry that there’s never enough or way too much for me to say.