3/29/2018 0 Comments Nightly dosesSome impressions aren’t deep enough to see. Possessions only last if taken care of, but you treated me poorly. Being bad is better than being loyal to someone you supposedly care for. It’s the worst to know I don’t need you, but I crave the heat created by the aura of your stature. In the morning I curse Fudge, seeing the smoke slip out my lips, past the drowning tears, up into the air to disappear like my fallen hopes. I try to cut the ties, but end up snipping pieces of myself instead. Next year I pray not to be here, but when next year comes, I will still be here. It's a shame. It's a damn shame to not go anywhere. It's a shame to hope knowing.... no, it's always too painful to doubt. Living is only worth it when you have something to keep breathing for, cause you know, loving yourself doesn't mean anything anymore.
0 Comments
3/22/2018 0 Comments Dreaming of starsTwinkle Twinkle, bright little star
How I wish I was where you are Up above shining so bright Cascading dreams throughout the night. I might wander, I might find A friend who will help me in the night Twinkle, Twinkle, bright little star Please don’t leave me in the dark. It’s your light that helps me sleep Comforting me, through these tiny sheets. Twinkle, Twinkle, bright little star Looking down on me from afar. Please don’t go, please don’t leave Please don’t abandon poor little me Twinkle, Twinkle bright little star Beautiful is what you are. 3/15/2018 0 Comments death or prayerGIRL
Am I really living if I feel death around me? Is it really living to feel death around me all the time? What is life without death? How can you live, if you don’t die? If I could free my body of the pains, would I? I had the opportunity to purge the discomfort and I didn’t. Burn the misery, and I extinguished it. Cut the heartache, and I patched it up. Smash the sorrow and I glued it back. Ruin the sadness and I built it again. Shut the horror and I opened it. I created a home inside a tornado. The spiral guides my downfall. I’m a failure. Failing keeps my blood pumping. The churning black liquid. I don’t want to save myself. But the Lord keeps saving me. He's not done with me. BOY "Lord please save her for me." - Bryson Tiller (Exchange) She's a broken spirit With a flesh-driven will. Evaporated water drawn into the clouds of the world. Raise her above them. Fix her. Heal her. Let her see your light, a lantern in the tunnel. Doubt sprinkles her eyelids, glittering shame. A veil of the world. Avert her eyes like a firefly. Don't let her fall. GIRL What is on your heart, God? Tell me! Tell me so I don't fall. Save me so I don't drown. Carry me so I don't faint. Hug me so I don't cry. Uplift me so I don't slide. Fill my spirit with your strength. I'll walk into the fiery pit out of my own will. Don't let me. Please don't let me. 3/8/2018 0 Comments BerkeleyBerkeley.
The place where everyone wore So Cal clothing, sipped strangely named Starbucks drinks with their sunglasses perched on the nose, while I bundled myself in a winter coat, jeans and a scarf. It was seventy-five degrees. Imagine huge looming trees, impatient drivers, and distracted pedestrians. Plus, the street smelled like burnt pee and marijuana. I walked down the street with my earphones blasting, eyes switching left to right for possible thieves or homeless lunatics. This is how I spent my summer, taking a college class at a prestigious university about soil. The sidewalks were always crowded, but once I crossed the street, noise died away. A long walk to class up rocky hills, dodging fleeing bicycles, I was cold shivering with icy delight, my chattering teeth almost frozen in my mouth. I hated Northern California weather, but yet, this is where I’ve spent fifteen and a half years. My body hated anything under eighty, yet here I was freezing to the bone on my way to class, where the hot breath of a hundred students would defrost my cold blood. I stepped into class seeing the teacher who somehow knew my name and sat next to my new friend. That was my summer. 3/1/2018 0 Comments AstroblemeAstrobleme (star wound)
Spread thin across the table, the cool air flowing through the air conditioner. My skin wet with sweat and cold chills, former thrills, but none of it feels… right. After effects. The quick withdrawal settling in right after the highest peak. Tripping over the edge. I’ve fallen, hitting the ground, so much force rocks my body, no strength left to think, eyes boring into the ceiling, tears slipping out the cracks, face frozen, broken, drained of it. The body has nothing to elevate it. Chest goes up, chest goes down. Shivers, shakes, trembles, whatever you call it. Lips cracked, split, chapped, bloodied from canines longing for the thing that made the lips smile, the face glow, and the body lively. The thing so attached and crucial. A nutrient, supplement to the body. I need it. I need it. I crave it. I have become it. Nothing without, nothing within. Inside of this fog, on top of this cloud, do I see and feel. Is this bad? Is it detrimental to my mind? A mental so damaged it needs this…it. Nothing without, nothing within. I feed on ice and lemons. Acid biting craters into my gums. Razors carving caves between teeth. I befriend loose ends. Untied, unattached, fringes, swaying in the breeze. I breathe in a plume of smog, forgotten in this fog, dazed out my mind, searching for a grip I can’t seem to find. Why? I live in a plastic house suffocating, unventilated, confined to these round corners that come in closer each time I inhale. That’s what I’m running from. This is what I seek: My freedom in IT. My escape in IT. Me in IT. The before is chilling, but the aftereffects are deadly. The irritation itching under the folds of my brain, comforted in IT. When it wears off… my mind’s affliction transforms into my body’s shock. The uneven pulse and heartbeats. The ants crawling on goosebumps. The twitch of eyelids, an alert of stress. I just wanted to float. I just wanted to breathe and not get smothered by dry wretchedness. There’s a wound deep within me, growing by the minute. IT was supposed to heal it. IT was tasked with fixing it, conjoining the slashed pieces of flesh. Aftereffects are the worst, but IT is worth it. |
Want to share something?Leave a comment below! Archives
February 2022
Categories |