He said she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.
She replied, monotone 'You obviously haven't seen enough girls, if its me'

Irrational thoughts come streaming
like destructive fireworks, grenades awaiting to blow
bombs of anxiety that
sit and tick in my brain.

These clock faces are making me go insane.

Yes, I know doctor
I know, mother
the thoughts are not true
that he will control me if I speak to soon
that they hate me because I said I like the colour blue
that I will be alone and everyone else will find true

love.

For people smile at me through gleaming eyes
and glossy lips
with no idea of the hit and miss.

Can they not see the internal hell that wages a war inside this shell of a body?
Can they not see as I hold a conversation, the fear in the corners of my eyes?
Can they not see me back bend, shoulders over as my chest fills with pain, an anchor weighing me down to the depts of the sea.

I smile back and walk on
head down,
try not to see, hear or feel
the invisible figures that

taunt me.

I sit in a park in central London.
Observing the passers by,
with skins of coco, porcelain and almond
we are unified by this thing called being human.

As the blur of faces pass,
I wonder about occupation...past life...
the things that go through everyone's minds.
Even the,
buying tomorrows chicken, going to go fishing
staying up past 10, staring at the kitchen.

Sometimes solitude can be overwhelming
I wish someone would ask how I'm doing.
But this city is not for friends
for I could talk to a silver statue and still feel warmer

that when I'm with you.

Throwing her religion down my throat
fuels my anxiety
the ''I am saved and better than you and your going to hell'' starts so much OCD
Her eyes are truly serious; dead, and prideful
a piece of a cardboard,
box of a person who sold her soul to fear.

Though when I read the New Test
and see the broken mesh of people.
That man who walked with sinners like me
and slept alone on concrete floors
when none cared he was God,
and looked into eyes of the lost with such love
I know he never called us from above

to sit and judge,
others.

Words are a mere cover that hides a decaying heart.

Eyes wide at 1 am
thinking about tomorrow
if it shall come and will it be like yesterday.

I turn away.

For the stale breath thought of future
congealed and anxious heart beats
drumming in syncopated rhythms
panic stricken
eyes closed
watch me
fade like mist
or shine like stars
the strange horizons
wait for me
to feel anything,
to stop count the hours  
and rest in the fact

its a new day..

Do you ever feel like you just don't fit in

to all the cracks and cliques

that society puts you in.

Or do you ever slightly fear being fully yourself,

scared of the raised eyebrows and curious eyes

that
dig
dig
dig into your timid soul..

I try and solve this by putting up walls made of paper

that slowly turn to concrete, a roof, a cave, a den, a house,

away away on a hill side,

so that they can't get in or smell or see

the beast that they've made of me.

For they love to toss me two and fro
with words and chatter. Vulchers * of
*'Why do you look, talk, dress like that'
There mouths like open caves I can see there teeth,
rotten and decaying.
Graves stones.

I don't want to explain
I don't want to talk
I walk away alone
and peer through windows
watching them silently turn to stone,
mannequins of each other
letting my spirit grow.

-

To me it means sacrifice
to hide who I am
never
For I'll find people
who know and understand

what its like to be
ostracized
beaten,
battered,
and
killed over and over again,

all for just wanting to live,
for just wanting to be human.

People forget we are all human.