You molded me, I am a shell of you.
A tattoo-everything I do branded by your judgements,
by the memory of you.
I scratch at it, this etching, this unremovable mark.
My endless attempts to remove it, to burn it off or tear it away from my skin.
A fear possesses me however-
if I finally pull your mark away, your stitching in my skin,
that the thread will keep pulling; a clown pulling handkerchiefs out his sleeve,
some sick joke.
This seemingly small part of me will continue to fall away,
nothing left but a pile of skin
that you had previously molded into a human.
Jan 6, 2023
Jan 6, 2023 at 7:02 PM UTC
Some days
in the dead of night
I write such beautiful words in my mind;
the rhetoric coming ever so naturally,
weaving into art.
But on these days,
I feel too tired to write it down,
to transcribe my thoughts into existence,
as this would make them exist
and if something exists
it is almost too real for me to bare.
Jan 6, 2023
Jan 6, 2023 at 6:43 PM UTC
Time skips by me,
laughing playfully
imitating the youth of a child.
The child runs to a distant voice,
it’s iridescent like nature
slowly fading away.
Left with a lament for it to come back again,
To skip around the fields of tulips
as they continue to blossom.
The child stops to reassure me:
‘The tulips will not blossom if I stay’.
The child speaks true,
as the tulips grow, so do you.
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 8:15 PM UTC
I inhale the depths of the ocean,
the salt filling my lungs
my eyes gazing at the glassy facade
which engulfs my lower body.
Panic ensues- I realise
I will never know the true depths.
Every fragment of salt will never be engulfed
Knowing I will die without this,
I allow the waves to strangle me,
wrapping around my neck.
I am now one with the ocean,
and will surely get to inhale
and learn
and understand
the depths of the sea.
The panic I felt now washed away to the shore
ready to possess another just like me.
Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 3:38 PM UTC
I dropped it in the bath
the ink bleeding from the pages
blending with the water into nothingness
soaking into my pores like a sponge
giving them a new lease of life,
invigorating my soul.
The pages left empty as the words were absorbed.
Just a blank sheet,
back to how things should be.
The ink flooding my body,
never to be released.
But that half hearted hope weighing down on me,
pushing and pushing to release this poison from my veins.
This isn’t how things should be.
Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 3:36 PM UTC