Each And Every One Of You

Really old poem. Dated 9/7/2014, so even before my relationship and marriage to the narcissist.

Each and every one of you 

(Yes you too)

All you ever do 

Is set fire to my soul,

Leaving me to burn alone 

Well it’s time I pull the plug 

And just keep saying Well Fuck! 

This so called hero in the sky

This almighty god of mine 

He was never there 

Just like my mother

I trusted 

I manipulated 

And I paid in full in the end 

So it’s time for a change, 

To once and for all extinguish the flames. 

The end. 

“You Need To Control This”

My feelings on how invalidating it feels when people say I need to control my anger. Because I already know that. Tell me what I need to do and I’ll get nowhere. Tell me how to get to where I need to be and I’ll actually get there.

That’s what you say. Or something along those lines. Do you see how invalidated I feel when you say that? Every day I see myself, I look at myself, and I know that already. It slaps me in the face cold and hard and I feel guilt and shame because I know it’s there. I know it’s within me. The issue isn’t being faced with it day in and day out, but how to control it, do as you say, as you ask. I want to control it, I can’t. I don’t know how. I was taught the two extremes in communication in life, funny how that works considering my mind constantly switches from one extreme to another. But extreme anger and violence, my mother taught me to try and piss pound anyone in my way. Take what I wanted, what I needed. My dad, you guessed it, taught me to lay down and take it, let people walk on me. He told me that life was a game and that it wasn’t worth it, while my psychopathic narcissistic mother tried to teach me that some but not all people are worth it. But in terms of communication, I was never taught the healthy middle man that the general population learns in their family. Growing up, I chose to take after my dad and let people annihilate me left and right, take whatever they wanted for even 5 minutes of attention. But now? Now I feel the rage my mom felt when she would hit me and insult me and spank me and all the things she would do I can feel that primal rage that burned through her when I too get angry. I don’t even hate it or despise it, I want to use it and take people down, with or without me going with them. Whether it be to hell or wherever, I want people to suffer, preferably at the hand of God if I had the choice. I don’t know how to “control” this, when it takes over I’m consumed by it, it eats me alive, and usually there’s no turning back. Not until it fades. But the damage is already done by the time it fades. 

Scars Poem

Written about my self harm journey. Yes cutting has saved my life time and time again.

You may be ashamed of my scars

But they’re what kept me from going too far

The blood that fell into my hands

Made me a stronger woman

The broken glass

Yeah it threw me on my ass

But it taught me strength

And put me on another wavelength

What I could be

And the things I could see

They were right in front of me

But first I needed to bleed

My mind needed to speak

It needed to just be seen

Because I was never believed

Privileged, Not Poor

*Pondering some things. Thought about my life and how I really didn’t see until now what I’ve always had.*

Laying here again sharing a couch with you, how long has it been since you’ve actually had a bed to sleep in?

Going and getting free food left and right, how long has it been since you’ve sat down at a table and ate in your own home?

How long has it been since you’ve even HAD your own home? A place you could lock up and go to sleep in safely?

How many favors have you done for friends, just to watch it all end, simply for a roof over your head?

How many of your things have you tossed to the wind, taking only what you can carry? How many times have you trusted someone with your things, never to see them again?

How many different showers have you used this week, using what was available and not what was best for your health?

Have you ate food that you didn’t like, maybe even made you sick? Because you were hungry?

How long have your clothes been tattered and splattered and your shoes smell badly and look dirty? When did you last get a chance to stain treat something?

How many times have you let a cough go on too far? Felt so sick but didn’t have a way to pay for what should be a human right?

How many times have you done the unethical or unjust thing just to see tomorrow? How many laws have you broken behind closed doors to make sure you’ll wake up again?

How many times has someone held you close and told you that you were loved, or even just wanted?

I thought I was poor growing up. Tax evasion, maxing out credit cards, cash jobs under the table, both parents working full time, sales of prescription opioids and hard drugs, seeing my dad less than 6hrs a day 5 days a week to see him come home exhausted and my mother lying about her broken ribs to keep her extra money? Spending $300-$400 on groceries for a family of four, buying new clothes only for school shopping and special occasions, being happy to get on a reduced price lunch program in school, hand me down winter jackets, trading things to buy food, eating Hamburger Helper all the time, buying broken down used cars to fix up and drive because no such thing as a new car?

I THOUGHT I was poor, I did. But I was actually quite privileged, hard core abuse of every sort imaginable or not.

I see the life you’ve been forced into, it breaks my heart twice as hard seeing you live it as an adult, with no one to hold your hand or kiss you goodnight at the end of the day and tell you they love you. I had that from my dad, I feel so lucky for that now.

Even as an adult I have always been privileged. I’ve always had nice things and food to eat and clothes and almost always medical insurance too.

I didn’t have to live in true survival mode, not like I thought. Nothing like this.

Life is so different when you have to carry a knife and sleep with one eye open. When what you have, all you have, is the person in front of you, and if you’re lucky, what little the government determines you’re deserving of.

The government told my family we deserved nothing because my dad brought in money. It wasn’t even enough.

Today, I see the way you’ve lived. You didn’t ask for it. You’ve lived this way for so long, it’s all you know.

Let me show you how it feels to feel safe. To have a stable environment. To no longer wake up afraid.

You Vs Me

Originally started to help get out some homicidal tendencies but quickly got emotional. Still wanna keep the original title.

If weren’t for weed

I’d be off on a killing spree

It’d be you against me

I’d hit you in shades of three

I’d hit you so fucking hard you’d see

I’d hit you hard enough to bleed

See everything you thought I could be

Break me down

Wear me out

Show me not to spit fire

It’s down to the wire

Show me how to stop the ache

Show me how to use my brain

I can never be the same

Help me draw out this pain

It’s not you it’s me

I want to breathe

Within me is you

You’re one of few

At the end of the road

There to guide me home

Killing Spree

A poem about how I feel when I get homicidal and suicidal at the same time, trying to put a creative spin on it.

I want to go on a killing spree

But it’s me

I am the thing that should not be

I can continue to scream

But I can’t breathe

My God I can’t even see

I don’t know who they are but they want to eat

Take my life away from me now if you please

I’m so fucking angry

It’s me I want to beat

I can’t just make a scene

But my body won’t let me bleed

Any way you want it set me free

I have a crippling need

To escape this disease

Even if I gotta be doused in kerosene

Pain Poem?

Wrote this in 2013 I’m surprised by it’s accuracy even today

It was too good to be true,
All along I had been some tool for you to use;
I hope the end is soon-
I cant keep on dreaming these memories of you
Its as if you took a match to my face
And burned me in place,
Scathing me,
Muffling my screams;
I stand here
Bathed in confusion.
How did I not see
What was right in front of me?

Race Against Ourselves

Inspirational thoughts coined while observing Race Against Myself by The Offspring

Stop trying to run this race against yourself I’ve been running against myself for years I see us both running ourselves ragged we can stop this and if we can’t then we’ll run it together

Weight Of The World

Wrote this about the pain I experience.

Wrap the weight of the world around my wrists and ankles, push my head under the water only to pull my head back up for air, and repeat the process over and over as I desperately gasp for air each time, only for these said weights to drag me under. Make me see my life as it flashes before my very eyes, but only so that I can see my trespasses against the world and the people in it. I know who I’ve wronged and the things I’ve done wrong, I’m ready to pay for it all. If it’s Hell that I’m destined for, I’ll go. I don’t want to wake up every day just to be reminded of all that I’ve done and all that I’ve failed at. Pull me under the water with the weight of the world, watch me drown once and for all. Don’t pull my head out of the water not once more, I don’t want to hurt others any longer. I don’t want to walk this earth shattering everyone in my path. Haven’t I done that for 26 years too long? I want to love and be capable of love, but it’s so far beyond my reach, I try to grasp it, and it disappears. How can I heal if every step forward is two steps back? Baby steps mean nothing if I turn my back and make the same mistake not just twice, but repeatedly! My apologies mean nothing to anyone and everyone because it’s all I can say as they walk away! I never asked to be born this way I never asked to be brought into this world damaged and broken, I’m standing here as if I’m a broken man, looking left and right trying to find an answer, any answer at all. I’m so desperate, I would do anything to end this suffering, anything to exorcize this demon on my shoulder! What do you want from me, God? Do you want my soul? My firstborn child? My sanity? You can take anything you want, just please pull my head out from under the water so that I can breathe for once! The pills can only work so fast and the therapy takes practice, I’m afraid I’m too little too late and I’ll be abandoned once again before I can prove that I want to change! I’d give anything to feel again, anything to make the changes necessary to feel alive! Please stop standing there watching me as I drown, help me find a way home!