The sun never burned this badly before . . . what to do with my melting skin. I am not awake. This is depression. She never hurt me. My mind is suffering from a severance with reality. Repair the illusion. The pieces cannot be purchased--not like before. Express your disillusion--it'll be alright.

He is a prisoner because he cannot stop thinking. Help him help you. His heart no longer beats.

Let me love your imperfections. I can't think clearly with the time bombs going off in my heart.

Strangled innocence.

Withstanding the blows that life gives me.

One foot chained to the wall and a fist raised up in protest. I can't see the firing squad with this blindfold covering me eyes. Sending you corrosion.

Keep me from drowning. Smother me with comfort.

So I hope I'm not dreaming--that I really am here and that you're telling the truth. Your facades are not subtle when you let me see right through them. You weren't born to lie, but I think that's a good thing. I've been all the places you hallucinated and now I'm back to make things better. There are cracks in my foundation--how long before I crumble?

I can't help but to uncover what the dog already buried. I try and I try but I can't get the fucked up burden off of my chest. Try again until I get it right, until I feel alright. Fear will not cure me, the beast must be reckoned with. Can't hurt anymore than I already do.

Stab me in both lungs, then swear to me that no one loves me the way you do. Castrate my thoughts. Strangle my imagination. I can't believe how much I hurt.

Thanks for letting her put her cigarette butts out on my heart. I should hate you, but I can't--try as I may. There is no shield except the one you put up yourself. Your heart is your kennel, now unleash the dogs.

Words fall out of my head like rain. There is nothing unnatural here. Language is our biggest mistake and our strongest addiction. These are all just symbols for the pain we feel inside, or the happiness, misery, greed, anger, resentment . . . it just so happens that I dwell on the negative. I don't write when I'm happy because I don't need to. I can accept my happiness. I can accept my joy. Here is where I come to cry. Here is where we all come to cry. Click on the next blog and you'll see what I mean. We have nowhere to drown our sorrow. We are all trying to reach out and connect but are somehow failing. I only wish I could read everyone's blog, but I see the same thing for the most part. I see that you are in pain and that I am in pain and I don't know what to do. I'm sorry.

I can see you, sparkling eyes and pouty lips, against the ambient night as the car moves forward and we sit still--both passengers in an evening I'm glad is over. So it's hard to see you sitting there, suddenly catapulted forward through the windshield and onto the pavement as other cars pass you by. It's difficult to picture them ripping you open and drilling a hole in your head to drain the excess blood so that you can live. When I close my eyes and see you lying there hooked up to government machines, I want to rip myself open and smother your pain with my guts and heal your wounds with my tears. You are in my prayers, sweet girl.

Emotions bind his eye sight. He is the heckler, the pain inside your heart. Ringing a thousand songs to drown out his breathing. Have a million narratives and a million voices fighting one another for control of my mind.

Mangled emotions. There is an anvil in my chest, dead violets in my heart and an incessant storm in my head.

An empty bottle shatters in the distance. He can hear them coming for him and all he can do is close his eyes and drown out the noise. I've seen pain rear its ugly head at me and what is there to do but look it in the eye and hurt? I can't let it cripple me, . . . I've got too much left to do.

You're a bipolar mess with an abyss of problems, but still she loves you. Life is good, it just likes to scare you sometimes to keep you honest.

I am at war with myself. So if you find on the floor with a bullet in my head--know that I have lost.

What do you want me to say? What do you want me to feel?

Create nothing so that when you look at it you don't feel guilty, sad or responsible.

I want to get out of my head so that my heart can stop hurting. I can't walk away without disintegrating. I can't stay idle without disintegrating.

Sporadic pain. Why do you hate me?

I'm the boy with the sad eyes--the one you keep trying to destroy; except now I'm a man and I'd like you to stop.

I drowned myself the other day and still feel the pain I was trying to get rid of.

Nothing to believe in when the pillars of your faith collapse and your trapped in the rubble, reaching out--finding that you have no one but the voices in your head.

It's a long fall that you will take.

Why'd you have to go and prove me wrong? Why'd you have to go and prove them right? I'm sorry that I'm not perfect. I'm sorry that I'm not everything you need, but you didn't have to shatter my faith to tell me that.

I'm empty now--if they should ask, if they should care.

I believe in pain. I believe in disillusion.
I don't believe in failure and I don't believe in you.