Death has arrived

It was around noon

I never knew it

Then I heard his familar tone

I thought he would quit

I didn’t try to run away

He had me in his trap

I guess it was my day

He is my death cap

The knife is on my neck

He was my beloved

Tearing into my turleneck

This is the pain I’ve always loved

Death never scared me

It is all I ever wanted

An important tool

One thing I have learned

During my short years on this earth

Is how to break a person

Humans, people, are machines

Whether we like to accept it or not

We are machines

And with the right technique,

The right words,

And the right movements

You can strip a person down to their core

Expose them to pure evil and heartbreak

And they will breakdown for however long it takes for them to recover

And I have found this as a useful tool

B.D or B.P.D

I feel high, jumpy and touchy. My mind races with millions of thoughts, some gentle, many violent. The consequences of my actions don’t bother me, I did what I did and I’ll do it again.

No care, no care in the world. No care, no care.

I take every opportunity to dance with anyone. I sit on fences and don’t commit. I try different things, different risks just to see the outcome. I’m a broken instrument, unable to be fixed.

No care, no care in the world. No care, no care.

I’m done, tired and slowed down. I feel no pleasure and the things I like seem dull. The number on the scale begins to drop, but I still look heavy. The only place I would like to be is in my bed, laying on my tear-stained pillow. Suddenly, self-slaughter doesn’t seem so bad.

I don’t care, I don’t care anymore. I don’t care, I don’t care.

I’m a regret. My demons talking to me again. I can’t sit in a single class without thinking about ways I could end it right there and then. The thoughts and headaches increase, I can’t be alone.

I don’t care, I don’t care anymore. I don’t care, I don’t care.

I’m hostile, violent and resentful. If you even look at me the wrong way, I will snap. I daydream about taking a hammer and bashing someone’s head in with it. It’s obvious I don’t want to be bothered.

Why, Why should I care? Why, why should I?

I’m unstable, I think about the terror I could raise, how I could ruin everything in a matter of seconds. My blood is boiling, my mind is about to explode. I could kill someone right now. Why? Because I do as I please.

Why, why should I care? Why, why should I?

Counting

When I was a kid, I would count up from one and imagine a big surprise would be waiting for me at ten. When nothing happened, I was confused and disappointed.

I think of you at one; the first time I saw you. Your smile at two and how it made sweet you were to me. Your lips on mine at three and at four your hands are running wild on my body. Once I reach five, you’re telling me you love me and your hands are running down my bare back. Upon reaching six, you become… distant and secretive. Onto seven, you begin to spin a web of lies that I am swept into. At eight, I find out and I break into a million pieces. You leave without feeling guilty about what you did. At nine, I’m alone, trying to find all of my broken pieces and put myself back together. And now, at ten, you’re back, acting like nothing had happened beforehand.

And just like when I was younger, I am confused and disappointed – very disappointed.

I am

I am witty and sly

I wonder why you’re so selfish

I hear your secrets

I see your lies

I want your money, power and all your glory

I am the madness that lurks within you

I pretend to be oblivious

I feel untouchable

I touch your cold heart

I worry about being caught

I cry at your funeral

I am malevolent and hostile

I understand what it means to have power

I say “who’s next”

I dream about the terror I could raise

I try not to laugh

I hope to ruin your life

I am what you hide from in your beds every single night

You never expect it

People die everyday, nearly two people die every second.

It’s sad, but it’s true.

But you never expect it to be someone who you’ve seen around before.

Someone you walk by in the hallway but you never say anything to.

Someone whose name you only know.

Someone who sits in your class but never talk to.

Someone who you only talk to rarely.

Someone who you’re close with.

Someone who you used to be close with.

Someone who helped you through hard times.

Someone who you trust.

Someone who you care about.

Someone who is family to you.

Someone who is like family to you.

Someone who taught you things about yourself.

Someone who helped you get an education.

Someone who generally cared about you even though they didn’t have to.

You never expect it to be them because it only happens to people you don’t know, people who didn’t even know existed.

But when it does, it takes you by surprise. It takes ahold of you and no matter how much you try to hide it, you will be overcome by two creatures named grief and empathy.

Blood and Water – Part one

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t let you do this to us .”

The duchess is dead and her entire party is sprawled across the ballroom floor, bodies cut in half, drained of blood. But how did we exactly get to this point?

You see, I just wanted to be friends, good friends at that. The Duchess and I met at Blooms Pond, a small stream surrounded by heavy vegetation and garden animals. I, fifteen and grieving the loss of my father, would visit the stream as a way to release my own woes into nature. One day, the Duchess stumbled across me attempting to take my own pain away and stopped me. She, being a royal and all, was such a gorgeous sight. She was the symbol of elegance and excellence, she walked in her own power and I felt like less of a human being when I was in her presence. 

“Duchess Freya, I’m sorry you must see me this way,” I pull myself from her grasp and attempt to treat my self-inflicted wounds. She fixes her ruffled hair and hands me a napkin. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Paris.”

From that moment onto her death, she took me under her wing as her own. Maybe, deep down, I always had an idea of my plan to murder the Duchess and the entire court. She was able to get me access to the palace and I would spend all of my time with her.

During one of her baths, I was sitting on a stool near her as her maid washed her hair. Out of nowhere, She feels a sharp stab in her tooth, makes a high-pitch yelp as she grabs her chin. The maid and I rushed to her aid. The maid was new and was bewildered on what to do, so she decided to go find someone more reliable. I advise the Duchess to move her hand and I glide my hand softly and slowly against her chin, occasionally pressing the area until she notifies me that I found the tooth.

“Does this hurt?” I ask as I begin to stroll my finger across her back teeth. She doesn’t tell me, so I look up. Her mouth is wide open, with my thumb at the back of it. She is still and making direct eye contact with me. Saliva starts to pool in her mouth, so she slowly closes her mouth, with my thumb still in place, and swallows. The tension is building and she uses both hands to pull my thumb out of her mouth, sliding it against her tongue before meeting her front teeth. She doesn’t break eye contact and puts my hand on the rim of the bathtub. Eye contact is finally broken and the tension leaves as her maid and a senior maid enters the bathroom. 

“My lady,” the senior maid starts as she palms the Duchess’ face and pulls it towards her. “Are you hurting? What is this I hear about a pain in your tooth?” 

“I am fine, Jewela. Paris helped me.” The senior maid looks at me and looks away to brush me off. 

“Let’s get you out of this tub. Paris, I think it is time for you to leave.”

After that moment in the tub, the tension continued to build and we would spend even more time together. The Duchess would allow me to try on her dresses and gowns, but would be persistent that she zip up and take off my dress for me. She would always trail her finger tips slowly down my spine while zipping and it would cause my heart rate to quicken and chills to drive through my body.

“You look stunning,” The Duchess comments as I admire myself in the light blue satin nightgown. I watched as her eyes trailed me, from my tan neck to my petite breast to my sleeky thighs poking out from the bottom of the nightgown. 

“What are you looking at?” Her eyes pop up from my thighs to make eye contact with me from the mirror. I smirk and turn around to face her. “You like what you see?” I tease as I walk toward her royal vanity to begin taking off my facial enhancements. I can feel her eyes on me, even as I walk away from her. I hear her make a light chuckle and she strolls to the bed next to the vanity I’m sitting at and sits at the edge of the bed. 

` “Can I ask you a question?” The Duchess begins.

“Yes, you know you can.” For some reason, facial enhancements were difficult to take off this day and I decided to use another removal that the duchess owns.

“Have you ever had sex?” I stop moving and a weird feeling starts to form in my stomach. I never had this feeling before. “I know we have to save ourselves for marriage, but isn’t there a way to prepare for it?”
“What are you trying to suggest to me?”
“Can we?” She begins to play with her fingernails and stumble on her words. “Can we practice with each other? Teach each other?” The feelings worsens. What is going on with me? I felt this feeling with her before, but now it has intensified. I feel like I am going to throw up. I don’t know what to do, so I oblige. 

M.B.

To me, she was Terpsichore, the goddess of dance and chorus.

Her body followed her mind.

Watching her dance and sway,

She did it without effort or control, like it came naturally to her.

To me, she liked order.

She didn’t like her students being a couple minutes late.

She liked everything done on time and her lines to be straight.

She liked everything to be perfect.

To me, she was kind.

Her smile made me smile.

Hearing her laughter made me happy.

She was a little funny and loved what she did.

She can be over the top, but she was never terrible.

I can still hear her voice echoing throughout my mind.

To me, she was a mother.

She adored her 4 year old son and he adored her.

I remember she continuously told me to put a hat on my nephew during the winter time.

I wish I could’ve thanked her.

She visits her family in Arizona during winter break.

They probably didn’t know it would be her last time visiting them.

To me, She didn’t deserve it

She was found deceased early Thursday morning.

The bullets pierced through her head and shoulder area, killing her in agony.

We may not know the whole story,

But she didn’t deserve it.

She didn’t deserve to never dance again.

She didn’t deserve to never hold her son in her arms again.

She didn’t deserve to never see her son grow up.

She didn’t deserve to never be able to teach students how to dance again.

She didn’t deserve to never be able to enjoy life again.

She died by the hands of the man she cared for, the man she had a child with.

No man or woman should have to die by the hands of their significant other.