poetry

the crossroad of death

i am at a crossroads

in my life

 

my heart is being

ripped into two

splitting open

blood spilling onto the street

and staining the angry peoples ankles

 

my bones are tired

my mind is not my own anymore

how do i become more

than a passenger in my life?

a victim of my illness

and of my mistakes

 

how do i stop myself

from feeling this numbness

how do i bring the walls that i have built

so high

down

how do i stop the unhappiness

from choking me

how do i start

living for myself?

 

i am unsure

but for now it feels

as though the war has been lost

i am standing over the bodies

and am waiting for the final bullet

to pierce my heart

 

soon they will raise the flag

claim their victory

their names will be etched

in history books someday

 

and in the distance sit two different pathways

abandoned

it took too long for us to make a choice

so we were swallowed up into oblivion

instead.

 

 

 

 

from another world

When she first came

in my head i wondered

had people just not cared enough?

 

scar tissue lines

all up her arms

scratches

all up her legs

 

it was as though her soul had gone

leaving only her body

for the trespassers and looters

no care

 

it was clear the devil had been

in court he would be convicted

theft, even murder

evidence clear

 

it wasn’t just this though

it was like she has come from someplace, not earth

her skin so pale

her hair so white

 

she has a presence

its unnerving

with a hint of sadness

like the subtle taste of mint on dads potatoes

 

is it what she has seen?

is it what she knows?

something doesn’t want to keep her here

 

the nurse says she tries to run away

maybe thats it

she is an angel

just trying to find her way back home.

phantom love

and that’s all you were

a phantom in the dark

a ghost hidden

 

you liked to think of yourself

much more visible

beef up the role

make yourself up as a saint

like your words could save me

save anyone

 

and yet

where were you

when i needed you most

or when i needed your love

or needed YOU

 

conveniently

you were too busy

with other things

better people

better worries

 

and it became a constant

for you to be like this

leaving me alone

making me feel like

my emotions were invalid

or a burden on your perfect world

 

and the day i left

walked out on your black soul

tarnishing the yellow i had been painting the walls with

for so long

i felt no longer haunted

by the loss

of someone who should have been there

but was not

 

because when i now look back on the pictures

you are not crystal clear

like everyone else

 

you are a transparent phantom –

not there

 

never was

 

and never will be.

 

 

 

pathway for one

unrequited

 

what a word

 

like those three syllables

could sum up the pain

the waves of emotion

the hurt

that come with giving your absolute all to someone

only to have it

thrown back in your face

 

my entire life

i have only known unrequitedness

 

i look at my friends in envy

as they act like having someone return their feelings

or even having another

pining after them

as some kind of joke

an everyday happening

 

we are not all as lucky

 

the pain of it stings too deep

leaving me with a forever memory

five words

YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH

the reality snaps me quick

 

is it possible for a person to be unlovable?

keep waiting

they say

your time will come

but i am tired of waiting

it seems the gods have chosen my path

only made for one

 

and so many think

i have a need to be completed by another

like this sick yearning to be filled

idiots!

 

i do not need to be completed

or filled by another

i can pour petrol into my own mouth thanks

no-

 

i am looking for a complement

someone who can tell me

on nights where i am throwing myself against the walls

and screaming to a hollow sky

and carving my porcelain skin

that IT’S GOING TO BE OKAY

 

i’ve spent so much time alone

that i begin to wonder

if love is a fantasy

misted in doubt

 

and as i watch others

dance on the toes of their beloveds

and shared saliva under a moonlit sky

and stitch pockets to fit inside each other

i break

a million tiny shards on the kitchen floor

thorns growing on dead branches

bitterness rotting the core

 

and i silently hope

the lovers will cut their feet

on their way out.

 

 

not sick enough

the age old tale

that haunts all messy heads

 

i’m not sick enough

i don’t deserve happiness

one more day, month, year

 

look at those people

they are far worse off than me

their voice is stronger

more worth helping

 

my rock bottom is coming

and until that comes

 

forget about me.

 

 

 

 

tell me a secret

the secret eats me up

chomp chomp chomp

crunches my bones

chews on my heart

and spits out my bones

to make a nest for bedtime

 

my words become empty

for how can they contain substance

when there lie words overflowing with meaning

 

my mind becomes full of everything i cannot say

and i thought i could forget

all of the secrets

like if i filled the air with other meaningless words

they would eventually drain out the forbidden ones

 

but secrets do not work like that

no –

because secrets hold more feeling

more depth

more ruin

than any other tender thought

that caresses our broken minds

 

and the more you push away

those secrets

those feelings

those out of bound words

the harder they hit

when they bubble up to the top

of the smokey cauldron

 

and the steam will burn your pretty face

 

i want to die

i love you

i feel empty

i want to leave this place

i don’t feel at home on this planet anymore

 

far too much

much too far

 

as i walk barefoot onto the grassy lawn

with the navy night tainting the skies canvas

i lick my mouth

from the salty tears

and i look up to the moon

 

tell me your secrets

he says

tell me the words

they are all too weak to hear

 

enigma

 

i scream.

the most wonderful time of the year

its the most wonderful time of the year

all come to celebrate

but for me

it is simply the ticking of the calendar year

 

rather than outward like others

with their pre mixed drinks

perfect friends, boyfriends even

i am inward

 

in my head

in my stomach

caught up in the symptoms

that come from living my life

 

in the doctors room

she calls it

the impulsive brain

misinforming the smart brain

 

but i can’t live my life

between those four walls

i am only here

trapped within the walls of my own body

 

checking

am i sick?

checking

are others sick?

checking

are my bones protruding?

checking, checking, checking

 

when the countdown begins

gone awol since 8pm

but those close know where to find me

 

under the covers

fetal position

so it is bearable

 

when the dawn breaks

an idyllic morning

i wake to the recurring thought

 

another fucking day