Without Warning

Your words
They have bruised the outer edges of my heart
And I would love nothing more than to tattoo
These feelings of elation as the bruises become indented
Into skin and bone

Your neck
With its little hollow shadows
That make me want to grasp every inch of you
and lose myself in this experience

Could I kiss your cheek
and whisper sweet nothings
if it meant holding you
for another day?

This is becoming something so much more
than I ever hoped to have

And yet nothing has really been said
Other than these simple fantasies that spread
Like a flesh eating virus
Carving delicious wounds into my blood stream

The truth is seen right before me
And as I turn away
These mirrors make me see
That the truth is but a lie

For this fantasy I am seeing
is something so close to love
and lust
and I am losing my mind

But baby take my hand anyways
Like the ghost in my head has done 100 times
and tell me this is right

Because my will has dwindled to a mere penny
to be dropped in these dirty streets
And I need your love

Your soul is my weakness
and my happiness
A cure that will break and bend every crack in my feet
That leave me permanently stuck here

Waiting and saying nothing
But smiling all the same

Mother, May I?

You know, luv, I've always been one to stray
far from a closeness to the land I walk upon.

The grass made me itch and the sidewalks..
they were too dirty for my beat up shoes.

If you can live long enough to see
then we will find a way to some savior

But I've been cursed with this gift of hearing
everything that needs not be said

Because your eyes told me your waiting
To wake up to a life not able

Where dreams are the howling of wolves at midnight
and breathing is almost as simple as smiling

The world is waiting behind a silver dish
And were too afraid to lift it

No more the smell of morning dew a sweet scent
but a vain attempt at feeling anything but ourselves

Cause this courage we seek has run off to the hills
and hidden itself deep below our feet

For suddenly our years is just a number
that counts the time till the blood in our bodies run dry

And the blue of our eyes
turns a dull white glare upon itself

To grasp the grounds of hell
and whisper

"Welcome Home"

Responsiblility

When people look at me, they see my height. My weight. My frown. They think that I'm some young teen with the practice of typical angst against my "miserable life". But there is another side to me.

This side is the one far too mature because she had to be. Some one who has had to grow up too fast because thats simply what life gave her. And although my past has left me, there are some things that never left.

I am a parent of sorts. First to a child dropped at our door, and then taken away years later. And now to the very women who raised both that child, his mother, and me. This women looks old and sick, and can barely wake up an hour without taking 10 different pills to feel better. But she never used to be.

She was an independent women with a heart too loving for this world. And it ate her heart out till she needed an escape. First with alcohol, an addiction that grew till her own husband forced her to see the divorce papers he'd already signed. And then with shopping, a compulsive disease that left me a side line watcher and my uncle unaware for years. That is until her "hidden" credit cards all maxed and they had to file bankrupt. Then her depression finally hit her, and she was in car accidents and bruised up all the time, and whether it was truly her carelessness or she wanted to really end it will always be a mystery. And these accidents led to a simple sprain of her foot.

This sprain is this huge fall down. She quit her job as a succesful nurse and took pills to ease the pain. And the pain, she concluded, could also ease within her heart. And the psych medicine came in and then her diabetes medicine, and any excuse she could use to possibly get high off of something other than reality.

And now, years later, she's only 54 and looks like a withered old lady ready to die. I love her, because when I love you can do so many bad things and I will always respect you and give you all my heart. That will not change.

But when you give me the decision to be made where I have to take away my giving heart and become a cold hearted parent, then I will. It is BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, that I would risk your hatred to save your life.

So next time some one thinks I have done nothing, and my age and my permanent cynicism are my immaturity, I can never believe it.

Because today I had to make a decision, like I do most days. To risk my own future and my own time to be a "teen" and have fun while I can, to be a parent to a woman who raised me when I was a child. Because she gave me life, and I owe it to her to believe in her too.

And when she found the pills my Uncle hid from her that was was taking too much of today, I was right behind her. I saw her grab them and sit there and ponder what to do. And when I asked her if they were Aderal, the ones she promised she wouldn't take anymore, she said she'd take "only one". And she gave me a look that said she had power over me. And I had to look at her back, and hide the breaking of my heart to see her so desperate for medicine that fucked her up, and demand she give them to me.

Like a mother telling her teen child to give her the alcohol or the drugs they have hidden in the sock drawer. I may be only 17, and not much life experience, but I have had enough experience to understand that my life is not wasted. And my importance is that this woman, when she is clinging to pills she knows she's not supposed to take, is in my care. And I will do what I can to make sure she is alive and well.

I am not a waste. I have an importanc to behave and be very serious. Because if I even take one day to relax and have fun to be the teen I am, this woman could be again trying to steal pills from her own home and ready to die at any instance.

And that is my existence. I am here to help whomever needs it. And right now, the woman who raised me needs me. And I am willing to grow up and risk my own future if thats what she needs. Because I know she needs me. Because no matter what her family says, they would not risk their own lives to help her if she really needed it. Not like me or my Uncle would do, and certainly at the lengths me and him have gone through for her.

I may be young, but I am NOT a waste. I am not an idiot. And I am certainly not immature.

Especially when the pills in my hand are the ones I had to confinscate from the one women who raised me because that is my job. I may not get paid, but hell its more work than any job I could ever get paid for.

Try and judge me now. Just try me.

Becoming A Monster

I truly have this sickness. It tears me apart, and makes me feel like I am the monster they warn children about. It is an obsession of mine that I have tried and tried, till I'm on my knees and looking like death itself ate my heart right out, to walk away from.

It started when I was so young. These fantasies that would haunt me at night. They'd hover over my thoughts to the point that I was desperate to feel them out till they left my presence. I never knew what it meant, and I didn't know that the denial of its existence would make me become this desperate trash that I feel like tonight.

Tonight..it just went from something so minimal to something that made me want to not exist. To forget that I ever was alive on this planet, and simply be forgotten. Because I am a bad bug, a viral disease that should have never been planted in the hearts of the good.

I am almost ashamed to be speaking in such vague terms over what line I may have crossed tonight. If I even spoke of it in such detail that made some understanding I would be hated. Judged. And misinerpreted in the worst possible way.

I will say this..I am no monster by choice. I don't know why I am the way I am, and know nothing of why it started. But I am a biastophiliac. A sick fuck who gets theirs kicks off of others pain and tears and trauma.

I am willing to say that I am wrong. I will be condemned by the few who refuse to understand where I'm coming from, and I will openly accept responsibilty of this. And I know I need some help. I'm fucked up. My mind is a little tipsy, a little irregular. But right now I have nowhere to go and nowhere to turn to. I am alone right now.

And possibly the worst feeling for me is knowing that I am so terrified of myself and no one cares to see me. They don't want to help. Because they don't want to believe it, and it hurts the worst. To know I am this way and I can do nothing to stop it.

I just want to be saved. For gods sake, just punish me from this guilt. This extreme regret that is pulling me apart right now.

Limb by limb..piece by piece..

I am no longer holding myself right. I am just a monster.

A monster who deserves to be slayed in the worst possible way.

Sexual Beings We Be

It's something, I admit, that fascinates me. I love sex and all the facts about it. I have a passion for sexuality, but not an addiction to sex. I am always having to clarify the difference.

So I will once again clarify it here. I love that we are sexual beings, and I myself brace my sexual side. But I am no sex addict. Because addiction holds no passion and a sex addict actually likes HAVING SEX. Now, thats the big thing.

I don't like sex very often. The physical act of it with another being is something that makes me extremely out of my zone. But I love talking about the history of it, how it reflects in our culture, and the types of acts we can really do that may not involve the basic form of sex(genitals and some sort of penetration) at all.

That's why I like to focus on fetishes. People with fetishes might not even need what we would consider sex on average. Fetishes can come from people like the man from My Strange Addiction, whom loved his car. His form of sex didn't involve what we could consider sex. That is..unless your mind is open to a more spiritual side of a sexual experience.

A sexual experience is something that starts in us early. When I was younger my sexual experiences included fantasies, dreams, and taking showers with my friends without bathing suits. We were still innocent, but these little moments can effect our entire sexual being as a whole later on. We may not even realize it till much later.

I myself have fetishes that I can be "sexual" with, without having to do anything to myself. It is a purely emotional expereince that is much more powerful than the basic orgasm that we all know. Now, bringing orgasms into this. There are types of orgasms and it all has to do with the individual and how it is done. Some are stronger tha others, some have an after effect that can last hours on end. There are about 6 or 7 types that can be done for the average women.

So, the point to this? My age does not mean I do not understand sex. Just because I know about it(sometimes a hell lot more than the adults who lecture me) doesn't mean I am having it. I am no sex maniac. I am actually quite asexual physically. But my being and my soul are purely sexual at most.

The benefit to me knowing this? My career I'm heading towards is a sex therapist. I figure I should probably understand this before I head naive into the world. Plus it makes it easier on me and my future partners that I understand MYSELF. I know what to do with myself and I can therefore focus on the other persons experience in confidence.

Adults who tell me I'm too young to know this are not only frustrating, but telling me that I am not mature enough to handle the idea of it. Because their fear is that the more I know the more I will become this sex fiend.

I have always been a sexual being. That is a part of me as much as my own breathing. We all are. And what society says I "should" do at my age and my own intelligence means nothing. I am my own self, and I understand why I do what I do more than any one else who thinks they know any better.

Nothing my elders try to brainwash into me about the fact that I'm young will change that. My body is simply a tool, and my soul is what I know. Why does it matter what I do with it? If I am not harming myself in the act then they have no right to butt in. Age is a number. Intelligence is a choice that I have made for myself. By myself.