Confessional

I paint a picture with blood
I always do
But now, this is real
Is mine
Is me

I gut myself
For poems filled with my black insides
Some tinges of yellow
Of white
Of red
For you to see

I flash smiles
To the cameras, their eyes
The smiles that are true
Are not
Those I'm not sure of

I stay at my corner
I do not move
I do not see anything
I am alone
But in my mind
I am plagued by monsters
By demons
Made for me
By me

They get mad
I never do anything, they say
Slowly getting useless
With fancy pills

They'll never know the bitter taste
Of the pill
Of the fact that I have to take it
They'll never know the feeling
Of a pill stuck in your throat
Choking you
Like everything else

And I write
I write
I write truths
Wishes
Some lies
I write heart

The same thing
Again

I am open
I confess
Like the ones before me
The ones they warned me about
They wrote to death
They wrote their death
Sylvia, Mad Anne...
They fear I'll do the same

Dr. L
(She's my therapist)
She warned me
About something I already know
In me
Is something self-destructive
Pain craving
Death wishing
Sex starving!
Something I have to tame
And lock away

See, our dog bit me
I cried not for pain
More for shock
My brother's girlfriend held my hand
(I am the perpetual third-wheel)
Under the flow of water

A few minutes
And I felt the sick, sick, pleasure
Alcohol to disinfect
I do not hurt anymore
I wanted it
Well, except for the fear of rabies

So sharp things became my love-hate friends
Shiny promises inviting
Not romantic
If this be the only romance I'd have
How lucky am I?

I seem so close for you to reach me
Inside,
Parts of me are light years away
Blackholes and crashing
Destructive explosions
A little bit
A little more
The end
A big-bang for good.