I am happy.
I am happier than one can be
If happy is another name for Misery
because then my Happy is endless.
It's a sick kind of misery,
a kind I've written of before.
It eats me from the inside out
but gives just enough
to keep me living off it evermore.
.
It's a ***** kind of misery.
One I can't quite place.
Each day I saunter from place-to-place
with such broken elegance
I feel as if I'm floating,
my puppeteer gently tugging at my strings.
.
It''s the kind of misery I cannot live without,
the kind of misery that taunts me
and keeps my mind occupied for hours
with thoughts of atrocities.
.
I focus on a spot,
I let that spot consume me.
The name,
*******,
it soothes me.
I'd never do drugs,
I'd never drink,
I claim this time and time again,
but why do I need it,
something I've never experienced,
something a naive young girl like me knows nothing about,
yet I dream of it.
I think about it all day long,
snorting
and an assortment of needles too
not to feel alive of course,
but to feel nothing-
to feel nothing at all.
Sometimes I sit in the dark
and I wheep,
I wheep for such atrocities as those
for they are horrid
but I want them
I NEED them
an addiction to something I've never known.
.
That is not all.
I'm in desperate need of hurt.
Desperate need of pain.
Desperate need of nothing-
need of death.
I do not want to die,
I simply want to feel nothing.
When I don't think of atrocities
My heart is pinned to dark Angels.
These dark angels change from time to time
but there remains a constant-
they are sick.
Bowie is my love,
my life,
my light,
he heals me in every which way
but there are other Angels too.
Those such as Joe Van Moyland
that sick little man
bone with a tight layer of skin
with floppy hair
have you seen that man
so sick
so grotesque
how can I not admire it.
I look at the healthy and I cringe,
I look at the sick and addicted
and I swoon.
I see these sick monsters whom
I've conjured up the idea that
monsters like them know the secret,
the secret to nothing
and secret to misery.
.
As my grades plummet
and quality fades
I leave friends behind
to spend my hours in a dark room,
starving myself silly
daydreaming of atrocities
and dark Angels
so that I may fill my body with misery
and maybe someday achieve the ideal
of nothing.