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.

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.

Pathetic

A trail of red liquid followed quietly behind you as you crawl, on your knees, closer to me

You’re pathetic

Your hands are glued together in front of you as you chant your sorrows and apologizes to me

You shouldn’t have wronged me

I, sitting unamused, am holding back a laugh because I knew

I wish I never met you

I knew you’d come back to me

Because there is no one like me

Your karma will come and you’ll regret what you did to me and I knew you’d come back to me

It happens every single time

You should’ve known better than to wrong me

Me or You

I believe my love for her came naturally

I happened without force or disruption

She was good to me

She offered me everything a person could offer another

But I had to do it

It was either me or her

And I chose her 

I held her down, my knees on her spine as she scurried below me  

My hands around her throat while she begged and cried for me to stop

She cried 

And I cried

But it was either me or her 

And I chose her

She tried to fight back with the little strength she had

But I just put more weight on her spine and a tighter grip from her neck

She stopped moving 

And I lightened up my grip, but didn’t let go

It was either me or her

And she chose herself

She done, She’s dead 

And now I’m safe

I could finally feel comfortable in my own home again

I loved her, I promise you I did

But I love my normal life 

More than the torture she caused me

2016

I still hate that boy

Those boys

Sentenced to always be trapped

The hopelessness

I still feel it

First attempt: age 13 ? I just turned 13

Pain pills because my ceiling fan couldn’t support my weight

Prescription pills: age 15

Only had me throwing up because I had to drink mustard water

My legs remained intact and active

More pussy for his thick fingers, not mine

I want to leave this body

Every day

Every moment

Every second

Playing dress up for daddy’s image like a fish in a bowl too small for it to thrive

This is forever?

Trapped in this tie

This cycle

This pathetic tower of self-hatred

Brief flashes of something nice

Of course, it is unhealthy

I’m exposed, punished, tainted

My body isn’t mine

Does a prisoner own their cell? Exactly

Please

Touch me, crush me

And let me sleep like a little girl on a sunday morning

It’s the only thing I’m here for