Rain

A self-crushing disgust crawled out of its hiding place.
A stupid, stupid girl
Who needs to be small and helpless
Talks to God in her sleep,
But He isn't a conversationalist...
Just listens.
She needs human interaction, touch, voice
To block out the sound of breaking inside.
Suffocating-
Caving in on herself.
Tell someone?
She's a stupid girl, but not a foolish one.
Rain, Rain, Rain... such a smooth name.
Rolls off the pen like the sickness inside her ebbs and flows.
Flows until her life is purged of innocence and honesty.
Anger like a torch inside her burns
And the sickening swell of anger turns into a ruining force of nothing.
The power of Nothing is Everything and that is something
When All is equivolent to the sum of two empty circles
Seared into her soul.
No one's whole.
Ruin or be ruined.
"I do not want to die," she says,
"But why live
When I'm numb to everything except the numbness itself?"
It is seperate.
Old. Familiar. Safe.
It is not her, but in her.
On her. Under her.
Seeping out through the imagined absences of skin in thin neat lines,
In rows. A corn field.
Numbness lives in a corn field.
She feels disgusting. Useless.
Hated. Needed. Jaded. Used.
For every tear Rain crys,
Four times the thoughts she stuffs down.
For every screw she lodges in her path,
Five more yet to block the way.
Sleep. She must. She can't.
Needs it. Wants it.
Not a stranger to not getting.
She lays in bed and writes.
Never has a corn field been so
Appealing.
Appauling.
Perfect
In its majestic misery which she wears over her head.
She shakes constantly with anxiety
And thinks it a pretty word.
"It has an x in it. That's why," she says.
X is what you sign when you die inside.
X marks the spot where the warmth used to be
And O marks the spot where the fire of life once burned.
"~XOXOXOX~
Hugs and kisses, Dearest," she croons,
"You won't know me in the morning."