Lost and alone
It shakes inside of you
Ramming itself against the walls
Hot as fire, lava running over your skin
Burning. As you try to control the flames
It hurts, you try to move, try to do anything
To avoid feeling yourself destructing
Wishing it was lightening instead of fire
Charging instead of burning
As you feel your fingertips and realize
You are melting, faster and faster
Your waxy hands dripping to the floor
As you get down on your knees, shaking
Tears and wax becoming one
As you become nothing

Do you see me?
Or do you just judge me?
That is very easy to do
I give you plenty of reason
I am not perfect
I will admit
I am not proud,
For I am pain
But so are you
And so I judge you too
You look at me, your eyes squinting
Ignorance reflecting in the whites
Superiority shining
Over poorly healed scars
That you refuse to see
And that is on you
You laugh, so easy, so free
So unaware
And I hate you for it
And I hate myself for hating you
Because you are me in another life
A paradox of truth and lies
Where freedom comes in chains

The demons choke her from the inside out

Slithering up her throat, leaving their slime behind to stain her

Her voice cracks as something inside her splinters, unable to be immediately salvaged

It floats, not away but around, offering itself to her as a wound, one festering with fear and vulnerability

She used to immediately try grab it, to force it back inside her, but the more force, the more disappointment

The more unintentional damage. So she stands as what she has left. As what she has become. And so

She stands shaken. Her body sighs in defeat, the damage done. She is so tired of standing

But she has to stand, otherwise her story ends. The splintering would stop, and instead, she would be shattered.

Unable to pick up the pieces of herself, as there would not be enough left inside to recognize

To look at those pieces and see the difference between her, and garbage, and at some point, unable to resist collecting it all as one.

So she would be destroyed. Lost. And not temporarily. Confused. And nothing. It would be the end.

So she tries to hold herself together, shaking, with the stains getting deeper, more painful, personal, and harder to remove with time

But she still stands. Exhausted. As tall as she can, even if hobbled. Because of the singular chance

The chance to see. The chance to squint until she finds a break in the blackness

And that. That is and will be her temporary prize- a clear light in the dark, flickering

She enjoys it as much as she can, until her enjoyment gets tickled by fear and she looks away, woozy

Sometimes she wants to *****, everything, the reminder of all that is not permanent. All that flickering. Is horrifying.

And she is just so tired. All the time. She is tired of it just, never being enough. The reminder that there will always be stains, seeping.

And for this, sometimes she regrets looking for the light

Because when the light flickers, the black, white and grey flashing so quickly, she feels sick

As she catches clear glimpses of the damage and those stains brought about by stumbling through that darkness for far too long.

Her fault. Not. She doesn’t know what to believe anymore. All she knows is that it isn’t over.

And so she starts to scrub. The blood and bile mixing together to create something disgustingly human

Terrifyingly human. As it grabs her, again and again, and forces her to watch

As it destroys everything around her proving that

Nothing can be taken for granted, anymore

And when its drained her, when she is left to scrape the remnants of what it hasn’t yet taken

She breaks.

Because it is only after, when she is forced to look at all those stains

When she is forced to scrub them until they are red and raw

That she realizes she is a poem with so much left to be written

Imagine a fly, buzzing, eyes pointed in all directions, searching
 
As it swoops down a sweet plum, delighting in the opportunity to feel full
 
Imagine a small child, running across the floor, sock feet sliding across the wood
 
As he splats that fly with a swatter, wings breaking, life ending, blood and guts splatter
 
A fly that will fly no more, a boy who will **** again. And a fruit that is spoiled by violence.
 
Imagine a squirrel, scampering down from a tree, pinecones secured in his furry cheeks
 
He has enough. He has even more than enough. As he rushes off to cross the street, happy.
 
Imagine that same boy. Or a different boy. Or girl. It doesn’t really matter. 
 
Driving a car, speeding, feeling free as he feels the thump thump thumping of his tires running over the world.
 
And then splat. The boy does not stop. The squirrel stops forever. The pinecones are ****** in blood.
 
Imagine the boy again. Sitting on the couch. Eating the ribs of another animal. As he shoots and shoots at unknown targets. The bodies disappearing as the game finally ends.
 
And then imagine it isn’t a game. And the boy is so angry. He doesn’t know why. And that makes it worse.
 
He is not heartless, his heart has been broken. His soul darkened. As the bodies hit the floor, and someone screams.
 
As victimizers become victims, and the victims pile higher. As everything around is spoiled by violence. 
 
Imagine a world without violence, imagine it if you can.

You and me, me and
You. Holding hands
As we walk run into waves
That wash away our
Pain and our
Loneliness.
Alone. Staining
With the salt, seeping
Burning our wounds and
Creeping beneath the skin
The gritty sand rubbing us raw
Wounds inflamed, bodies blistered
In the sun, moaning
As we wrap around, and around
Each other, like gauze
Too thick, too wet, too broken
Ragged and ripped around the edges
Yet solid and thick in the center
As we jump over waves
Feet leaving the sand
Flying over crests, falling in the troughs
Laughing and crying as our bodies are dragged deeper
The rythm speeding up
Thrusting further and further
The waves roaring louder and louder
Rushing, hurting, loving
Connecting hand in hand
You and me, me
And you
Facing them, facing everything,
as always and forever
Together

There is blood everywhere
And so much pain
Not just because of the damage
But because you feel broken
Used, discarded, and guilty
What is wrong with you?
That you would let this happen
You stared at him
Remember?
Your eyes on fire, daring
Burning into him
As he burns into you
But it is too much
You are weak in your wanting
In your hatred
In your pain
It hurts and it hurts and it hurts, and
You deserve it
Because you wanted it
And that makes it
Your fault
The proof is splashed everywhere
A ****** scarlet A
Dripping all over you
Leaving you so alone
Alone with your pain
Burns and sores weeping
Never truly healed
So cold and hurt
Unable to cope except
By looking for fire again