Rise above?

The bracelet on my wrist says Rise Above
But why? And how?
The tattoo on my arm says
My story isn't over.
But when can it be? I'm so tired
You see.

600 friends of Facebook
And no one to come to.
600 profiles waiting
But not to hear from me
Who can I talk to?
I'm so alone I can't breathe.

Voices in my head chime in
You are broken, not for keeps
They jab and poke and hate me
And never do they sleep.
Why won't they leave me?
Why can't I be free

I just want to sleep forever
To say all my goodbyes you see
I don't want you to hate me
But I am just too weak
I can't even kill myself
So here sit and cry and plead.

Black

In the blackness
I lose myself
In the dark I am afraid
Of what I will do.
Night calls me
To my razors edge
To say goodbye
To end my pain
And each morning
I sigh relief
Still here,
I can breathe again
For a few hours
Til in the blackness
I lose myself
Again
Till the dark calls
To see my blood
To say good night.

Hope

Hope is a vapor
Floating through the air
A sudden swell and taper
Leaves me grasping here and there

Blood

My blood is my only friend
I can tell the truth with blades
On skin
The slice and drip and sting
Brings calm.
My hurts now have a name.
They are outside of my head
Fleshy and real and red.

How Close

How close we mingle
Love and hate;
Need and rape.
I think mostly you
Are good to me
But I cannot trust
My mind and how
Closely it mingles
Love and hate
And need and rape.

History has made sex
A dark depraved thing
Echoed by drunken nights
And men who didn't care
When I cried.
I think you'd care,
But I don't cry
For such things anymore;
For love or hate
Or need or rape.

<3 p="">

Addictions

Addictions suburban edition: Wine for him, razorblades for her.

One Year Ago

One year ago I felt lost and hopeless. I despaired. Six months ago I decided I could not go on living anymore, convinced I was destroying my family.  I am better today, but I have not yet found the words for all that went on between then and now. For the six days I spent in the hospital. For the days weeks and months of therapy since then. Each time I sit down to write I feel a void, and a blank.  Maybe all that transpired is just not meant to be put into words.  Maybe I just start fresh with where I am now, in the arms of the God of comfort, working my way back to who I am in Him. Maybe eventually that time will have a voice. I don't know.  While I am tempted to delete my blog posts that reveal my struggles, I realize that good or bad, it is part of my story. And so it stays.  And I move forward.