Stars are invading my vision and everything is blank. All I see is blinding darkness for the next few hours. When I finally wake, I see myself hanging from my rope attached to my ceiling. I gasp in horror. My throat closes up and my eyes betray me when they allow warm tears to form puddles on my sunken-in cheeks as I watch myself sway in horror. I quickly compose myself and the silence I hear is piercing. I wait. I wait. I wait. In the next two hours, I hear someone enter my house. I freeze. I hear keys jingling and the removal of coats. Next I hear voices. Two separate voices. Two familiar voices. My muscles ease up when I realize the foreign people are simply my parents. I hear stairs creaking. (I always hated those stairs. they reverberated booming creaks while I was trying to quickly maneuver my way up them after a deceitful night of sneaking out to see someone who was my very first heartbreak - but that's a different story.) I hear laughter. I hear happiness. I hear desperate calls for my name. I hear silence. I hear frantic knocking on my door. "Open this door right now young lady! We do not have time for your disobedience at the moment!" The door swings open. Sobs. Screams. My mother falls to the floor. I hear my mother calling out for my father, begging him to somehow comfort her.
My father files in. His mouth opens. Tears escape his eyes. He doesn't bother wiping them. Through his cloudy vision, he spots my note of finals words. He reads the first few sentences. "It was my time to go, I felt it in my bones. This was for the best, for I was only making a mess. I was making a mess of my life. I ruined myself. I had to leave. I am very sorry." He only gets that far until he drops the note and frantically dials 911. "Operator! Operator! I just found my daughter, she, she hung herself!"
"Please be patient sir, we'll have someone there right away." And with that he hangs up. He looks at my fragile mother. Then to me. He eyes me up and down before shouting to no one in particular, "Why?" He loses it and breaks down even more. My mother is still sobbing. Her shoulders are shaking. I ache for her. When I was alive I had not known I could have such an effect on people. I'd always considered myself dead, on the inside that is. Now I really was dead. And there's no going back. As much as I wish I could take it back, I cannot. And for that I apologize. I snap out of my thoughts and bring my vision back to my parents. The ambulance is here. They cover me in a white sheet and take me away. My mother tries to go into the ambulance but the paramedics stop her. They drive off. My mother falls onto the street. My father beside her. They are both apologizing. They are apologizing to me. Saying how they should've been there for me. Saying they should have noticed something and helped me. They are apologizing to each other. A day later, my best friend finds out. She sprints into her room and slams her door. Carefully, she selects a razor from her wooden cabinet in the bathroom and drags it across her wrist. "I'm sorry, I should've known. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she whispers. And with that, she's gone. I have caused all of this. I caused turmoil and pain, I am the reason for my best friend to take her life. I had not known people actually cared about me. I soon realize the severity of my poor judgement. And at that very moment, what was left of my ghostly my soul withered away. I decayed into stardust and floated into space. I am gone.
To bed I took, in habitual slumber,
cursive prayers die at my cynical tongue,
all pinned badges of the day cast-off
to the floor, only for my sorry soles to
impale upon, come morn. ‘Come morn!
I called, to the chasted walls;
‘come morn!’ I sang,
hoping to fill the thinned curtains
with a filter of light.
In oil paints, old dreams coloured themselves
in patient, kaleidoscopic hues. Though
withered of form, they delight in me,
promise to deliver in utero joys,
connection to the Great Mother;
all that was lost in the fall.
The fall of man,
so gravely reported, and so
limiting to humankind.
I fell. I fell to sleep as Romans did peace.
With grudge, with dissonance; mind-silence apparent
only upon the death of the day.
With stubborn regard, my ears tarried in vigil,
I awoke to each pine of the hallway,
each tremor of heart, pulse of thought,
and Lord of sound.
‘Come death!’ I sighed,
to my life’s rushing blackness,
‘come death!’ I cried, to my stars.
In cannabis, I attune, only to calm;
to bask in the light of some meadow-less dawn,
and in pains, I pray only for dullen thoughts,
to poison my days in some indolent mess.
And of Ávila, Teresa
shelters my mind. She comes to me
in sorry demise.
‘My child,’ she calls, voice echoed since,
‘fellow child,’ she pines, entrusted sphinx.
Spawn of Thebes, she riddles through centuries,
all panicked pores, all sickening spirals,
forgotten in the present, all-eternal.
A shepherd am I, amongst my thoughts,
she calls thus that I am not my mind,
rather, a chosen observer,
to be confused not upon the
idiocratics, more, ‘what is.’
A lowing at my window, she calls unto me
in reverberated tongue, nutritious tone,
a cyclone of holistic power.
Bright glimmer of light, she calls once more, ‘my child!’,
she cries, ‘my fellow child of the Lord!
Please, rain unto me your sorry state,
lack of appetite,
cooling plate. Oh, you that live so solemnly,
you who knows not of the arbour of life.’
I call not in terror and I call not in my fright,
upon the window, that ghostly glimmer,
she heals the walls in half-light, swimming
in opal reflections of ripples and chimes.
And, she is calling for beauty,
she is singing unto me,
‘come morn!’ she weeps,
‘come morn, and with it, the tidings,
of your blessed life to be!’
Stumbling, I trip over the apparition’s words,
she speaks not in life’s shadows and sinister plot,
but only in those that speak like a God.
In the awful haze of light-polluted skies,
auspicious streets and government plot,
her prophecies fair, but yet
‘Come now!’ I say, in no hope, ‘come
now,’ I say, an adult.
‘There’s no space for me here in this lifetime,
there’s no soil for my roots to embed,
in painful years past, I’ve been in sorrow,
and I’ll be expecting them in all the years, hence.
So what, if I’ll join the army,
or some other capricious,
All tributaries lead to the river,
as all humans to their torturement.’
Teresa, she radiated with colours,
and Amy, who lived within my chest,
they called out as one in my silence,
as a union, a conquest of the childhood mind,
to abolish the present tense.
As one, they sang upon to me,
They sang, ‘be born,’
under the moonlit streets, ‘be born
to all that you are, and ever you could be.’
And from this dream I came out in denial.
From this dream, I appeared to awake. I awoke
to the song of the starlings, and to
the precious pleasure of life’s augment.
With this groggy thought I’ll admit that,
in separation I fell apart,
I call, ‘come out!
‘come out and greet me,
old Eden, my eternal womb.
The union of mankind and nature,
and the union of our pasts combined.’
An oasis of hope is vanquished by order of
a diet of worms,
stored in sunken shafts,
no tenable reason is further expanded
nor quarter given;
hushed words turn into withered excuses.
no bells to commerate the ex officios
once held in prestige.
he was made of melted candy and thorns .
his hair , a whirlwind of violence and loneliness , iron black in the darkness , like his obsidian heart . he picked the ones that you couldn’t say no to , because he enjoyed the infinite possibilities . the sun withered when he smiled . a rare occurrence , every half century he’d return and light up the way . he wove dreams into your skin like the blade you cherished in those dead hours , mouth wide open and accepting of the misery he fed you .
his hands were a slow blur of silk and daggers , claws shredding your soul while he whispered his I love yous . you convinced your petty esteem that there was truth in the messages he burned into your screaming flesh , cigarettes wheezing on the floor around you , a plume of smoke in your ruined face as you thanked him for each brand .
he crushes your pathetic wind-pipe because you begged him to , because deep down you know he’d do it regardless . he squashes your every hope because you’ve wasted your life thus far . you moan between his teeth , and he pets you like the broken puppy you are , slowly guiding you to his bounteous well . you sip and choke as he shoves you , takes your breath away , and beats you with a smile .
you relish your marks the next morning with a strangled laugh . there is that tiny speck of emptiness you expect every day , that makes you crawl back to him . he welcomes you with a kick in the ribs and a leather strap around your neck . you explode with joy .
you don’t care . nothing matters , but his adoring hand
Laughter broke from our withered lips
and tears broke from our sleepless eyes
the window letting the december air
dance with our december smoke
that filled the room we sat in happily
listening to records
that played from a musical needle
which seemed to be playing forever
We smiled at each other
enjoying our friendly company
we played super mario world
finding every level hard
We sat in room
with a wooden floor
and green and white walls
with laughter pouring out from our lungs
and happy running through our veins
enjoying the december smoke
filling our lungs
sorrow makes its way in
like an old friend bearing his treasured gifts
the photograph and letter
that you cannot bear to part with
he settles into your empty room
and sits with you in his silent way
while you grind your soul
slowly over the past and what you have lost there
he gently takes your hand and leads your heart
deeper into the rapture
of longing for what you cannot have
for that which is lost beyond redemption
she lay beneath headstone
in small Massachusetts town
fall leaves and now snow lay quiet blanket
on her resting soul
sadness bring you here in dream
from the miles where you lay
to stand unabashed weeping
in the cold dark of night
sorrow betrays you
but you cannot care
it consumes you
until you are blind to all else
until you are withered
lay down next to her and take your rest
none will blame
but your old friend
A rumble of a failing engine and an abandoned heart does not always make for the best mixed drink you’d typically order at the bar
The gasoline fumes rising towards my nostrils, the taste replicated on the taste buds, not exactly the main course you’d hope to appear on the main entrée menu
The shrinking world swallows my perception, and all I can see are endless forests with an unending road, not exactly the picturesque view you’d pick from the 5-star hotel you presumed to stay in comfortably
Recurring whiplash carries me deep within the foliage of the woods, where the bristles from the furious trees feel like spikes brushing across my fragile skin
My thoughts are encompassed by my wildest fears, intensifying the pitter patter in my chest, nearing a detonation, but no witnesses to confirm or deny it
The limbs outstretch themselves and enfold me inside a hallowing clasp, resemblance of an agonizing chokehold
The fires begin slowly, but hurriedly strengthen into a sore, sweltering sensation that hastily seizes control over my nervous system, rendering me helpless with no one to soothe me from it, for isolation is the true affliction of it all
And suddenly I am traveling through a dark neighborhood, the ones we were all warned about as adolescents, as the lamp posts house stood-up lovers and lost souls who are trying to catch a fresh thought aside from the filthy repetition we are provided with
The light bulbs flicker and the yellow paint dividing the two paths incases my thoughts, stimulating every sensory input to intake the detection of safety between the two opposite directions, because once a path is chosen, returning is forbidden
This social deprivation surely beholds my salient inner pain, as I cannot confide in anyone on this lonely road except for the shining Milky Way and smiling crescent moon, eons away from my reach
Foaming salt water crashes over me, encumbering my lungs from performing their simple task successfully, caught in a riptide sensing my discomfort with reality and self-hatred brought upon by the overriding waves that deteriorate my sanguinity
I cannot control anything in my life and the sea acknowledges this weakness, What a real favor it is! Killing me, for me, subduing the airflow right out of me but also purifying my corrupted being, freeing my aggressions, letting go of faulty hearts, and ensuring arcadia by ripping away a future I could not survive in
The sunken sailors in their sinking ships do not drown by choice, like I, but they may not be as grateful for the gift of release as I am
I realize I may have a shot at social encounters, until I gather that the glass wall that separates me from the world is unbreakable, and the water pressure is much too great to fight through, so I must die alone
As my vision fades to black, I am awakened once again, stranded on this Earth, this place where life exists but living does not
And I feel like ever since the door slammed shut as I collapsed in cascading tears on the floor in your favorite white button down, I’ve been a bit lonesome and defunct, my mood has a constant sullen adjective attached to it
Adventure and spontaneity meant everything to you, and I took on the same attitude, breaking out of my comfort zone and implementing yours instead
What once was now lingers as a painful memory and acts as a narcotic because I am experiencing a difficult withdrawal of your voice, and I cannot last much longer before the insanity devours me from the inside out
As the hourglass passed all of the time, your personality withered as each interest you held dear to your heat contracted into an abhorrent piece of art, dedicated to miserableness
And as your presence no longer fills up my time, maybe I too am disappearing, or so I wish
Because losing you to yourself felt like being stranded in the middle of nowhere with an unceasing life of despondency and unanswered questions
It felt like being burned alive to ashes from a forest fire, so deep in that not a single person would notice its evanescence
And worst of all it felt like drowning, as my control slipped away from the tight grip I once had, like nobody could resuscitate me from
I play over every doting moment with you over in my head as my mind slowly fades to darkness, a blank state of depression
So tell me from the heavens once more that I do not need you, because you see what I am experiencing in your absence
Maybe I need you as a constant in my life and not a fleeting breeze in the persistently bipolar wind movements
But you bolted the moment the poisoned fog touched your fingertips and your fear took you away from me
So how can I possibly hold on, when I am clearly alone and depressed?
I know death is merciful compared to losing my one true love
Tell me you’re listening, I need someone to talk to
I cannot leave all these words left unspoken
Treachory of weaponry for over a century
the enemy is gaining energy from all the injuries
mental venture memory without any penalty
trickery of history still causing twisted misery
a whisper delivered by lips of the withered
the disfigured remembers being considered
soon to be severed, the tether is weathered
no endeavor together your life isn't treasured
She's withered and unwanted
Go back to bed, dear
She took many untrodden paths
And dwelt near unknown ways
Few took her in their arms of love
Few took her in their praise
But o, to me she was life’s light
The warmth of summer days
Few ever knew her, her sole friends
Were larks that came to sing
To others hoary she may seem
To me, she’s everything
And I took her up in my care
I took her ‘neath my wing
We flew together, her and I
I took to places, she
Where we livéd together one
In love and harmony
But one gray day she passed away
I dwelt in misery
And now I place a rose upon
Her grave near withered grass
Though very few of people knew
How great she was a lass
And even though she’s lost in time
And though o’er her time does surpass
I’ll keep her in my heart’s sweet clime
For all the years that aged their prime
And all the years to pass…