He

Everything in here is prim and proper. Sitting in a pre-determined pattern. Snug perfectly like pieces of a puzzle, each in its assigned position. Playing its own tiny part to keep the picture pendant. Precisely how it ought to be. Pray it all falls down one day– landslides of information. Floods of boxed away thoughts. It would rain blood on white terrain. All foundations of sanity would quake. All signs of consciousness would cease. I can picture the self disintegrate, it’s not a pleasant sight.

“See, you’re going there again.” he’s speaking again, I let him. “We talked about this. It’s okay, don’t worry, repetition is key. 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3… Don’t forget to breathe.” His hand slides up and down my arm, a comfort gesture. He’s been around more often these past days and I don’t mind.

“It’s a fragile thing, living in a sandcastle. Smooth, poised, unperturbed. On the outside its a solid facade, on the inside a hollow. A simple tap of a fingertip away from shattering.” I nod. I am powerless in front of him. He knows. “Part of the reason why everything in here must remain prim and proper. Snug perfectly like pieces of a puzzle, each linking to its assigned position. Playing its own tiny part to keep the picture pendant.” He senses my fingers fickle again. My head begins to hurt harder, an artery must’ve burst. My consciousness seems to be flickering. On one minute, off the next. Eyes can’t focus. A hand on my head, he strokes my hair. He knows me too well.

“It’s okay, I’m right here. Are you breathing right? Repetition is key. We’re on the same team remember? 1, 2, 3, 1,2, 3…I told you I’ll never leave.”

His voice sounds like home, so i obey. He watches me breathe, and I count as i do. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…repetition is key. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, my croaky voice booms in the empty tiled bathroom, my only companion a lizard on the ceiling, and He.

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wean yourself off of life. kill off parts of ourselves. slowly, bit by bit. one at a time. so that its less painful, less hurtful, less noticeable.

theres a fight for dominance in my head
2 people have found abode in me
without my permission, against my will
they live like the most misbehaving tenants you’ve ever seen
one only drinks tea and one comes out late at night
there’s a fight for dominance inside my mind
a man and a woman have made themselves at home
without my permission, against my will
and when they fight i try not to look
not to feel, not to know what to do
i sit and wait for them to resolve
because you see as much as these two want to call it home
my body is but one mind, one heart, one soul.
it can only belong to one being at a time
i try thinking that, maybe they’ll understand
but tonight im losing to the man it seems
He wants me to cut my hair again
So I kiss a girl and make her feel pretty
I put flowers in her hair, capture the sun in her eyes, I paint her a ballad, do everything she likes

but its not my hands
not my lips

I am a hollow of a person, i can feel it. It’s like all this time I’ve been leaving parts of my soul everywhere i went, simply for the sake of letting go of it. disposing it off, ridding myself of the burden of carrying life.

Who do i tell this to

Its suffocating, living. Its making me want to clutch at my neck because i can’t breathe. A paradigm, i want to die but i must live. Death. such a pretty word. Such a beautiful thing. Death. I wpuld name my lover that. If i had one. I had a lover once though. But now all i see around me is death. i am infatuated with it. i am infatuated with a woman too. her name is fear.

on Wednesday night 7th of february, 2018, at 2:08 am i cut my hair in my sink. The scissors we’re orange but when they cut through my hair they seemed to be dripping with blood, dripping into my sink. white sink with dots of red and hair. So much hair. On 7th of February 2018,¬† wednesday night at 2.15 am i cried while i held the bleeding scissors and my bleeding hair in my hands. They slipped through my fingers and fell on the white tiles, painting a pretty picture. The tiny patches of skin on my hands where the scarlet hadn’t yet touched, watched in shame. look at the glory of what the blood has done. i took a picture. but there was no blood in the picture. lorde played in the background. please could you be tender, she whispered. and it seemed like my body was crying to my hands, telling them to be tender. it cant hold more. kill yourself already my head said to me. kill yourself already, kill yourself already. break the mirror and stick the largest shard into your stomach. do it with the scissors. bang your head on the tiles till its smashed. swallow rat poison it’s right there in the cabinet, second shelf. nobody to stop you now. drink that drainage acid and do the world a favour.

 

 

on 18th of February i had my first cigarette. left me craving for another. anything to make sure this hell passed faster. look at me sounding like those 12 year olds who claim to be depressed. why am i still alive.

Deciet

When blood runs stale
And veins go limp
When hearts go numb
And tears turn a scarlet shade
Limbs swell up and maggots assemble
When brains seep through nostrils galore
Then Lord looks down upon man, and says;
“Come to me, I’ve freed you from a hellish abode.”
Gullible and naive, the soul flies to the Maker’s embrace
Stumbles towards the eternal, stumbles towards a haze
What do you know, Oh you credulous being!
At the end of your final pilgrimage,
A hell far worse than earth awaits your grace.

 

 

 

13/09/2017

giphy

What is it that you have

coursing in your veins

some magnet or a fire

that flushes your face

what that does to my body

i can’t begin to explain

what you do to my body

i can’t ever anticipate

one look and my heart melts

scarlet drips inside the edges of my ribs

my lungs betray me and my breath sinks

my eyes always fall to the curve of your lips

i would give anything to feel you just once

one look from you and i get weak

my mind only yearns the taste of you

to feel the warmth of your chest

and the warmth of your breath

on my neck

you’re an obsession i’d like to never cure

your smile plays in my mind like a flower in bloom

do you even realize the effect you have on me

 

 

Twenty

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The day i turned twenty

The muscles in my heart pump slower than they did at nineteen

And another thousand irreplaceable neurons died on me

And another thousand pints of blood and sweat I’d breathed life into

All naivety of teen years shed off like old skin, I rose

Writhed out of my past and rose out of it in all futility

The day I turned twenty

A world full of good and evil lay infront of me

My chances of getting heard were greater than they were at Nineteen

Yet I stay trapped in a decaying form of flesh and bone

In wait for an escape to rescue me

To save me from the claws of my own being

Today I feel the noose tighten around my throat

Because today I’m seting myself free

One hundred cells at a time, one hundred memories gone

Now the muscles in my heart don’t pump and all cells have given up on me

Waste of space reclaimed by my dead body

No good it ever did to me, turning twenty.