reliving the day that started everything is sickening but my hands are still holding on tight to the secret bruises.cracking and striping them bare is like being electrocuted, but at least it helps me let them go.

[this poem is NOT meant to be offensive. don't read if you are strongly religious about the christian (particularily catholic) faith.]

that thrill you cannot explain, and the guilt of the afterwards like an electrical cord around your neck. (my god, i have forsaken thee) prose-poem about priests and pedophilia.

she was beautiful. grand canyon eyes and a smile that seemed to hold the entire universe sparkling inside everytime she laughed.

Can you be forgiven without regret?

because corruption is a myth

It occurs to you that they're much too trusting.

She takes her communion with strangers. (repost)

i don't want to write about you... (@.@; i really don't understand this crazy new rating system, heh... apologies, this is my first post in at least a year)

The rather cynical view that religion isn't about faith for most, but what you get in return

A story in semi -ish- poetry form. Might not make any sense... idk. An anti-existing little girl.

Isn't she cute?

my pseudo-bitter love poem... After a break-up.

A collection of poems. For a boy. {I know a boy with safety-pinned pixie wings.}

People wonder how I got this way. How I somehow concluded it's better to break it that take it. Do you really want the answer?

nothing's really changed- except something in my head. but since when does that count?

and when i am drowning, i will wonder if when you read it in the papers, you will wonder if i thought of you.

miscarriages over toilets and i think we're coming undone

are models truly models of perfection? [abstract] (another chapter added-bulimia issues)

sinister barbed-wire glory (Prose. A little abrupt but I like it that way.)

Because -everything- hurts without him. /unaccompanied, and I'm living in our .memories./ ...I like this one

this is our infernal eternal romance

"I want to dance barefoot in the rain in white gauze and not care that the fabric is sheer, and wet, and hangs on my breasts and thighs."

I handed this in. Includes shameless plug for 'Poetic Justice'. Teehee. (For the curious, it got 12/12.. highly rare from my teacher. Go me.)

A conversation, the last one she'll ever have. When she picks up that blade, and sweeps it ever so gracefully across, these will be her last words, spoken to an invisible guardian. R&R.