The 3 Stages of Self-Destruction.

It’s easy as 1, 2, 3…



I want to take

A rusty pair

Of scissors

From the drawer

In the kitchen

And jaggedly

Cut into these

Chocolate curls

I am so well-known for.


I want to stare

At the bottom

Of a grimy, yellow

Toilet bowl

And vomit

Until my stomach

Is empty

And my throat

Is scraped raw.


I want to strip

Off all of my clothes

And go lie

In the angry

Summer sun,


When I burn

So badly

That my skin peels off,

I will find

Something better



Once, there was a siren…

Once, there was a siren who wished to run herself through on the rocks.

Once, there was a troll who wished to hang herself from beneath the bridge.

Once, there was a treacherous virgin who wished to be sacrificed.

Once, there was a princess who wished to throw herself from a tower.

Once, there was an opera singer who wished to cut out her own tongue.

Once, there was an atheist who wished to be nailed to a cross.

Once, there was a well-known girl with green eyes who had been trusted with so much, and she took that trust inside of her hands and she snapped it.

Where Dogs Go To Die.

I kept on begging…

I kept on begging,

“Oh please, will someone–

Anyone at all–

Dig a hole for me

In the backyard earth

Where dogs go to die?”

I wanted that hole

Five feet, one inch deep.

I needed that hole

To swallow me up.

Despite all I’d done,

And how I cried out,

No one  was willing

To dig me that hole.

They said I’d be fine,

That all this would pass,

But shame burned my skin,

And rotted my soul.

So I turned myself

Toward the rising sun;

I read my own rites,

Got out my shovel.

I said no goodbyes,

Just simply walked out,

Took up the shovel,

And dug that motherfucking hole myself.

Dark Place.

I’ve locked myself in a very dark place…

I’ve locked myself in a very dark place;

They gave me a key, but I’ve chosen to stay.

I cannot forget the look on your face–

It’s followed me here. I cannot get away.

The cold has left both my lips turning blue;

My eyes have gone puffy from tears that I’ve shed.

My heart grows heavier with thoughts of you;

I don’t know when I started to lose my head.

When did I curse what I’d once held so dear?

When did I start spiraling out of control?

Didn’t I hear what I needed to hear?

Why couldn’t I have just let them cleanse my soul?

There’s nothing to do in the dark but think,

And play your sins over again in your head.

Darkness rose up, and I let myself sink;

I am a snake. Perhaps this foul skin will shed.

I wish to disappear without a trace;

You think you can call it, but this is no bluff.

I’ve locked myself in a very dark place,

But to me, it could never be dark enough.