strange little puzzle box

ripped my heart out
piece by piece
'til I was left with none
and that hole aches
bleeding for murderers
who no longer come to play

how do you sleep
when you've left your knife
embedded in my chest
do you miss it?
the way that I miss you
that lying smile that made it alright

I want
to watch you as you sleep
the shift of your throat as you breathe
the rise of your chest
could I ever explain their beauty
and still be considered sane?

I want
to spend my whole day near you
the sound of your voice in the morning
the random things you say
could I ever live without these
and still be considered sane?

I want
to cut my wrists and call it pudding
the sticky sweet redness swelling
the distracting pain tracing my arms
could I ever tell you this
and still be considered sane?

I want
to cry my stupid heart out
the one you broke so carelessly
the same I gave away
could I continue loving you
and still be considered sane?

do you know how it is to purge poison?
the bleeding and the vomiting
that's what you've become to me
it's a slow, sickening drain
more than a little self-destructive
but it's the only way
you can hurt or you can die
these are the choices
you will suffer if you choose to live

when I met you, why did I drink so deeply?
sipping that unknown bottle
a girl my age should know to read the signs
or wait until I knew just what was in you
these sorts of things aren't hard to find
I'm sick again
this heartache is tremendous
to be turned over like another corpse
it's hard to find you're really not important
to the one who always swore you were

I drain my veins of imperfection
impurities unwelcome here
I'm losing so much liquid
that I think I'll lose my mind
but for that, well, you never really cared
you nearly killed me but you'll never even notice
I saved myself - I cut my wrists in time

there was that man
who smelled of strawberry
on the bus
it seemed significant
especially considering how odd it is
for a man to smell of strawberry
especially in January
that was just before
finding out
she had relapsed into alcoholism
again
it answered so many questions
but also left me scared
how could I help?
with two alcoholics in my life
and my own battle
to stay clean

I'm always forgetting something
my head's so full of clouds
it causes my eyes to mist over
thus I miss things
I forget
until my fogs clear out
but then it's far too late
if the ship has already run aground

these aches, these pains
are they depression
or are they poison?
why do they poison the suicidal
until the become sane?
is it truly sanity?
this chemical induced calm
does it hurt?
when you chose to be the same
without the valleys
you can't find mountains
without the stars
there is no blackness in the sky
so should I want
to clear my table
to take away the change
of sun and moon
but if they're moving
without a reason
if there are too many in a row
it's time to stop
to take my poison
and surrender to the passing of the days

I dreamt there was a flood
but it couldn't quench my thirst
and then there was a fire
which wasn't warm
it was painful as I watched it
but I couldn't look away
the stars fell from heaven to my feet

they cut me as I walked
but still I went ahead
through a night that wouldn't shine
though the moon wouldn't set
and the sun feared to rise
in this darkness

it was then that I noticed
I was bandaged by your hands
held together against this fearful life
it really made me wonder
how someone as selfish as I
should ever be so well loved

I want to ram this pen right through my wrist
I want to have this ink instead of blood
so many words pour forth, some days
I think that I may as well just bleed them
I'm sorry that I couldn't be more perfect
I'm sorry, it feels like all I ever say
I'm sorry that you hurt me
I'm sorry that I'm dying
and I'm sorry for this is how it has to be

with my blood I could tell many stories
as my ink, it would flow easy and quiet
from wrist to page to make my book
my last apology
when I die, it won't be your fault
as I tape my mouth to choose that silence
my organic pen will leave my note
that's all I have to say
don't worry, you won't miss me all that much

why do you
make such a beggar out of me?
I'll never understand it
the way I plead for
your affections

it's so pathetic

all my good behaviour
you rewarded it with pain
what a funny man you were
did you like to see me cry?

my very own little raincloud
to follow me around
it always pours its soul
on my hat

why don't I get a bucket
to hold before the sky
and catch up all those tear drops
as they tumble down