He stares through me
with my red eyes
and i cannot help but think
that some things
are best left
alone.

It is nothing to fill the void,
with sweet things and a metallic aftertaste,
but always i feel it should be empty, so i
leave it. There is no point
in filling an emptying pit.

And i think my socks are wearing thin,
because what was yesterday a scab
is bitter and angry today, a
gaping hole on my heels that seems
to always be wrong place, wrong time.

It is nothing to stay quiet.
What i lack in words, my body screams for me, in
bruises and amnesia and wet
ears always primed and ready for a call that will never come.

The things I could do
If only I could just
Get up
And
Dance.

you deserve better.
you deserve a life that treats you better,
makes you better.
(he stares at me with a passion)
you deserve a universe that doesn't
chew you up,
spit you out.
(is he alright?)
you-
you-
just-
you. just you.
(he's crying now)
you deserve everything.

I deserve better, i think, turning away from my reflection.

It fills the sky
with one absolute, one absolute
mother, father, daughter, son
nuclear.

My sick twisted gaze
On the women and the men
Thigh gaps, finger bones, ribs.

Wasn't it Shakespeare who said-
Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

And didn't the youth read that and think-
Lol, no. ***** gay asf pal. Get back to writing.

My mum- the one I take after the most.
A reckless, careful, calm, angry, hateful, loving mess.
My dad- the one who became both parents.
A steady, reliable, caring anchor.
Myself- the one I am.
doomed.

To be them; To see them- that is what this is. My aching bones beg for mercy but I will give them none UNTIL I AM THERE IN MY HEAD ON MY SKIN IN MY BODY they cry out for forgiveness. I will give them none. Why grant life to a dead thing?

i cut and i cut and i cut and i cut and yet
Still, it is there. One
post-it-note in permanent marker,
a diary entry written in pen.
Woman, it says.
Woman.