I thank the world for the moments
Where your soul is at peace because it has broken
into all of its pieces.
At times I feel there is a God
That lets me stand still in my 9.5 tornado of a life.
The wreckage keeps me together,
Keeps me from falling to the floor onto
More glass shards and wood pieces from a path I carved myself.
The windowpane holds my head in place
While time and time again I watch the Earth continue to be ruined.
My mirrors are all broken,
And I am not complaining.
It is that moment of sad relief,
The hour where you have stopped crying
And there is no feeling inside your fingertips.
The sweet nothing is a grand lifestyle,
Forgivable for a time with no noise,
Or life.
To lay down in a bed and yet float with the wind.
I do not stop myself from feeling nothing.
When the winds calm down and time moves backwards,
The hour runs quick
And I am reminded there really is a God
Because the pain replenishes itself.
And the shards pierce through me,
back to my untouched windowpane.
And I am on the floor,
On my knees
With spit hanging out from my mouth
And a beaten brain,
In the place where I stay crying before.

Eyes deep and dark as if linked to the primordial abyss,
It was as if " " could see further than the blank faces of truths and lies
It was as if " " could clearly see what is and what is not.

Voice commanding attention like the horns of heavens army and as soothing as it's zithers, " " lips its succulent strings.
Body as bountiful as the late harvest " " delicacies just as sweet miracles when " " legs part blessing falling from my chin to my feet,ceremony a Thanks giving for this decadent feast.

A self, if I don't help , watering flower blooming how and when ever it sees fit.
Passion like the sun, radiant and all illuminating but tempered by a mind like the moon on a still pond, while it seems grounded it's true home is in the sky amongst the stars.

She was like music,
and I longed to dance.

Her heart was the beat,
and I begged for the chance.

Her words were the vocals,
and I was put in a trance.

Her smile was the melody,
and I fell in love at first glance.

When our mind is set in one way, it is easier to live our life.
When our mind is seeing two opposite things, it is draining and difficult.
When anorexia consumed me, it was easy: don't eat.
When my family made me get help, I started seeing another side.
"It is okay to eat".
When your mind is telling you two extreme opposites, it is emotionally and physically draining, makes me tired physically and mentally.
The emotional battle.
The heaviest thing would be the fork to my mouth, to finish the long difficult stride from the fork to my mouth, or to hide the food in my pockets so my family thinks I ate it.
Give in to my stomach roaring like a lion and tame the lion, or to ignore it like how I have usually done and feel myself getting skinnier to give in to the demons.
It was more distinct and different than: night and day, black and white, fire and water.
I was having a civil war with myself,
Constant battling and war in my head
"Eat" or "Don't Eat"
This was much harder than having only one thought in my mind.

Every word that I've said to you has been analyzed
By you
By her
By everyone
I speak in rhymes and riddles to confuse
But you understand
Not always at first but you do
So I hope you understand me
Now more than ever

It’s time to talk about it,
It’s time to talk about the nightmares.
I’ve lived in fear of sleep for far too long,
Years,
A lifetime,
Struggling to make a home in my head
When it feels like a foreign country
A new one
Every night.

Something about my own mind makes me uneasy
Each time I lay down.
Something turns my stomach,
And I get a prickle under my skin.
I get cold and hot all at once,
And I can’t get comfortable,
And as sleep creeps over me like an island fog,
I shudder,
Knowing,
Feeling,
Sensing…
They’re coming.
The nightmares.
Nightmares…

Ironically,
They don’t only come at night.
They come when they please,
As long as my guard is down,
And my subconscious at play.
They jimmy open the windows
And crawl in under the shadows.
And when they’ve arrived,
They seize me,
And I’m trapped in slumber,
Awake enough to be terrified of what they show me,
Just not enough to shake them out of my head.

Odd lights swing about as if fixed to the roof of a dancing house,
And bizarre scenes are partially illuminated in the infrequent light.
My memories betray me,
Morphing into something monstrous.
The worst of them-
My arms in a grip stronger than mine,
Cold eyes looking at me flatly
As words come out
Evil and wrong,
And me,
Paralyzed.
My father,
Dying in the living room,
Everyone prepared,
But no one ready,
And me,
Knowing what was to come from a dream sent to me,
Gentler than the rest…

They’re not always memories.
On occasion
My imagination runs hand in hand with my fear
And I become a victim to one crime after the next.
The villain is anonymous,
Or sometimes someone I know,
But they’re always armed,
Grinning cruelly as they berate me,
Hurt me,
**** me.
Natural disasters destroy my home,
Wars commence,
And animals speak,
Surreal chaos reigning
Until the ring of an alarm
Or a gentle shove
Awakens me.

My head throbs and my chest aches and the visions continue to play silently.
The nightmares fade excruciatingly slow,
A faint reminder that they will return again.