Daylight emanating coils of uncertainty from within myself
Trajectory for unwavering retribution
I am lost among the crevices thy mind creates, etching fabrications with regression
U n w o r t h y
U n l o v e a b l e
F a t


Grievances I whisper from blanketed sheath depression
Thoughtless lies birthed onto soft flesh and bone
I am worth......
                                         less.

Damage inflicted, heartbroken thoughts coveted blissful time spent among your breath.

Unkind to myself during depressive episodes, clockwork fabrications intertwined rationality.
Those become a new truth forging insecurities of panhandle insecurities



You are more than the darkness surrounding you.

Your eyes were my own private river, bathing in the ring of blue around your iris. Enamored with the greenery protected by your eyelashes.
November to February not long enough to drown beneath them

I am plagued by the ghost of your reassuring caress
Your breath during nighttime a missing comfort
For alone I am surrounded by darkness.
Moments spent cradling cobwebs of each-others limbs
Intricate designs casting from our bodies as we felt like one in the same.
Our allure as a couple outshone the mundanes of just a ****** attraction
My soul felt yours
                                          







         ­                                     but I am alone,
                                                    
     ­                                          with the overbearing grief of love lost.




                                                       ­                                  March 16th, 2020



          Darling,
                                      please find your way back home.

My entire adult life spent through selfies adorned with false smiles, vanity portraying the "best version" of myself.
My own body delusions still presented without filter, although masked.
Raw, vulnerable photographs through my weakest moments, tear strings, pink cheeks and red eyes aren't something I've felt comfortable posting.
However posed my photos are, they still aren't altered.
Playing up my own dysmorphic disorder from youth yet grasping my own beauty seen as overly vain.
Early youth Ex boyfriends told me selfies were extremely narcissistic, and made me seem rampant for attention.
But does a girl who has such little following still seek approval of others when they don't like photos?
I'm not sure.
My instagram feed is dull.
It's not uniform or beautifully choreographed.
I often hide photos, as I too enjoy hiding myself from time to time.
I intended on leaving an imprint of all these useless photos I've taken over the last decade. Physically I no longer share similar traits to younger versions of myself, though mentally I've changed overall time and time again. People have called me iron-clad, the strongest person they know.
But am I?
My body embellished with secrets of a personality I used to be too afraid of showing men until this fall.
How many basic accommodations I've missed out on, how my body soaks up the granules of this love.
My being is a season, wise in my own way and mystic in terms of value.  
Windows beaming with warm midday sunlight, and crispy fall mornings.
Evolving rituals, moonglow and warmth. Certain darkness like still plotted night skies. Teetering vulnerability, and overstuffed closet.
Days less spent pining over lost dysfunction, and moreover trying to figure out who I have become.
Perceived destruction of oneself versus proverbial Phoenix reconditioning.  
Warrior ignite.
This winter's met with welcomed warmth though grazed heartache and sadness.

Erase your name from my fingertips, never again quench these thirsty lips.
Fright said right an ending was left.
Head against pillowcase she wept of mourning.

When I was nine years old, my mother threw me into the shower.
Holding the removable shower facet in my face and proceeded to drown me.
This wasn’t a regular occurrence, fully clothed body and screaming for her to stop.
Choking, crying as this water cascaded into my open mouth while I struggled against the grasp of a plump body.
This scene, shattering protrusion of fear and betrayal.
A woman clawing out of flesh from the inside. “Don’t hurt her, she’s your daughter” one voice said but the urge was too strong.
I knew this woman, as she ripped me sleeping from my bedroom.
The smaller room in a two bedroom duplex adjacent to the bathroom and not very far.
“God wants me to do this”echoed repeatedly.
My brain registers the reality that she doesn’t intend to hurt me but I can’t breathe.
This only lasts a few minutes, she has done the lords work of cleansing the evil from me.
My mother apologizes profusely, but she is still my mother.
She holds me and dries me off.
I cry.
The moment passes.
And everything is normal.

10.24.18

I’ve slept terribly these last two weeks
Maybe it’s too much coffee
Maybe it’s poor mental health
Six am nights reflect terrible days
Terrible, terrible, terrible
All this and time continues to pass
When I really just need it to stay
                         STILL
Fall ricochets glimpses of winter
Deafening silence lasting seven months
Bitter, chilled motions
Fleeting hardships harbouring
NO LOST SOULS
FROZEN
              LEFTOVERS
I just want to go home.