thriver of self-destruction all while writing/trying to explain my problems and reach out to you. please remember me, please forgive me for my mistakes.

do you ever get momentary crushes?? as in watching somebody do something adorable/amazing/just awkward make eye contact and then HOLY FUCK just magically have a crush on them then on out/fall in love with them in just that moment?? (i.e. seeing THE school jackass treat his baby sister like gold?)

ps sometimes i fall in love with you guys with things you write about, things you send to me, and things you say about my stuff. 

2 days ago · 1 notes · source · reblog

he said i was alright
and that he’ll get over the last girl
because i was just enough

i am a freaky bitch
and i will end you somehow

i am not your rebound and
i am not going to soothe your heart
all while i’m trying to glue all my shit
back together

i will destroy my heart
all while you’re hoping
that somehow i’ll put a stop
to your broken heart

(in other words
please don’t
fucking trust me

i am up and down and
the biggest fucking roller coaster
you’ll ever ride

and obviously you’re pussy enough
to run screaming at
my favorite horror movies

ultimately what i’m saying is
you’re pussy enough to go running
at a fake exorcism and if
that’s the case
when i break down it’s like
a body is trying to end me
and there is a darkness looming
right over me
so if you can’t handle that
you wouldn’t be able
to even breathe bits of me in

i am a horror show in myself
i like(d) looking at blood
drip through my hips
and i revel(ed) in the feel
of my wrists burning from soap
and screaming at me to
stop cutting them apart

nobody will love me because
i will fucking come into your life
like a tornado and ruin everything
i am a fucking storm
and i will destroy more than
what you could ever build
in hopes to protect whatever
it is you want to keep safe

you need better.)

— i am not lovable material. 2014

2 days ago · 14 notes · source · reblog

there’s this one person that i know that once said that
they’d follow me anywhere
as long as i “in it” as much as them;

i am a fucking heart monitor
filled with darkness and the temptation
of death that will fluctuate
i rise one moment and i fall the next

you and resuscitate me and try to give me life again
and i will try and i will thrive

and i will fall and you will be facing scraped knees
and even if i am done for i will care for you

i am up and down and will never go forward
i waver between heaven and hell
and sane and insane

but i am a fucking time bomb
and you will not
follow me to my grave.

— why i cannot love. 2014

3 days ago · 10 notes · source · reblog
Do you ever wonder why you feel so sad? Why things are tight, and why things are loose? Why a piece of green paper controls you beyond belief until you are counting metal circles to make the infinitesimally important things work out? You wonder so you know. You wonder so you grow. You wonder so one day you don’t wander without knowing. You do not cry or scream without growing more, without feeling more. You live more. You become more. This is life. You deserve to see the best of it.

— you should know 2014

1 week ago · 10 notes · source · reblog

i am barely five foot fucking two and a half
and i weigh 113 pounds
i’m a size 4, small, 34dd
and there is no excuse
for you sexualize me
or to belittle me
because i’m in the norm of “petite”

you get no say in who the fuck i am
and get no right in saying “that i look good
in your sweatshirt” you sexist bastard

i will not cook for you
until i have you where i need you to be.


1 week ago · 11 notes · source · reblog

when it gets really tough:

1. you can cry and self destruct later by drinking your weight in fluid ounces of liquor. my friend r.p did that and said he almost upchucked his spleen. not a good idea.
2. you can write about it and get really fucking deep and hope that somebody gets the metaphor that you so wonderfully created in allusion to your fucking windowpane. nobody will know other than you that you have your and initials and theirs scratched underneath the bottom-right of your once-pristine window pane.
3. you can keep breathing because that’s kinda easy to do. you’re going to want to scream, you’re going to want to cry. but that’s why i believe in a faith, i believe in myself, and i believe in us. there’s got to be a reason why we share air, share time.

my seconds aren’t really any longer than yours but i’m sure yours are harder to get through. the minutes won’t go by fast enough till you are better. but you will be better.

4. you can just wait it out. i’ll be here at the door. i’ll bring movies, hershey - my own even - kisses, and soda. i’ll wait for you until you’re ready to re-enter the world. i’m right here. you can sit and you can hit me as much as you’d like - just try to avoid my nose. i hear breaking your nose sucks, so yeah. i’ll be right here. we can sit and talk until you’re ready. we can wait. i have time, and i know even if it’s like you have a weight upon you that you can’t lift and even if i’m barely five-foot-fucking-two i’ll find a way to lift it off of you.

5. just give me time.

— depression. 2014

2 weeks ago · 16 notes · source · reblog

i make so many motherfucking typos. sometimes i just want to slam my head onto my keyboard and say “i’m out and fuck this”.

2 weeks ago · 1 notes · reblog

be good for me. make me the best you can be with what you have. hold your arms out for me. hug me tight to keep me safe with what you have. listen for me. tell me how to be better. love me for me. teach me how to live again.

i don’t need your wallet. i need your heart. i need you. and you are good. you are not god, and i am no saint.

but you are what i want and i need you to know that.

— things i’ve learned, 2014

3 weeks ago · 13 notes · source · reblog

that was the most personal thing i’ve ever posted, i am sorry if you don’t like it.

i do, and i hope you understand that my liking it is because it is the most me it’ll ever be.

3 weeks ago · 1 notes · reblog

my mom never told me about sex
until i figured it out myself from
those cool kids in the grade
who thought that sex was fun
and when i finally got the guts to ask her
about what sex really was she looked
at me and said “it got me you”:

so she’s out of the picture then for
a mentor when it came to sex but
at least she colored that bit with
hey guess what YOU GET A FUCKING

and when i got that revelation
that this james guy my dad knew from
fucking high school was another
educator of mine of this topic
that apparently is so taboo
because it’s the physical relationship
between to individuals that should
be reserved for the time it’s right

i didn’t realize sex was also rape
because my mother never told me
that rape was sex and luckily
i didn’t get pregnant at 11

i was fucking 11 years old
and i barely knew what the
distributive property was in algebra
let alone that fact that james
was not a pristine man
who just right then
really wanted to teach
me some new things

and at 15 - when i finally
understood that what it was
was actually rape: the bloody,
scarring, dirty, usage of intercourse

teach me that sex is supposed to be love
teach me that sex is supposed to be happy
teach me that sex is not supposed to be rape
teach me that sex is not supposed to be
everything that i’ve learned it to be.


i fear that it’s a taboo topic because
of that fact that it commonly involves nudity
but it shouldn’t be because here i am
standing and knowing that sex is rape
and sex is also making love
sex is sex

and the sky is blue and it’s not going
to change that fact that i was raped
and that i was considered foolish for
allowing him to touch me.

i was 11.

and the sky was still blue
all the way back fucking then.

here i am standing the fuck back up
and giving the sky a thumbs up
for not changing when i was changing
and learning about myself because
fuck james, fuck this, fuck sex
because i wasn’t taught right.

i’m still standing and i’m fighting
for those who have been placed
in a box like i was that night:

the toughest thing you’ll ever face
is knowing that their sky
is still just as blue as yours too.

— things i’ve learned, 2014

3 weeks ago · 8 notes · source · reblog
Anonymous asked: what's something that a person can say about a poem that makes your day?

odd as it is, a “fuck” or a “holy shit” does the trick. or even adding on to the post with tags, classifying my work as a part of the categories of your life.

that hits home sometimes.

3 weeks ago · 1 note · Reblog

if you are writer-slash-hey-michelle-i’d-love-to-share-things-with-you-creature, please message me. or just tag a post with /scelerophobia or /mhzpoems. :)

3 weeks ago · reblog