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Vale Luna May 2022
When I grew out of my adolescence
I lost my crippling thrist to write

I stopped cutting myself in my early 20's;
just like the research articles said I would

Disorder direction, however,
was not the cause of my coping correction

I moved away from rampant tantrums
Sliding down the ***** of sufferance

I used to write to externalize my internal desperation
My frustration with the life I was given
(Certainly not the choices I've made)

Over a decade of time has aged me
From a helpless girl, to an impassive woman
Submissive to circumstance

Now, I chain bricks to my ankles
And throw myself in the sea of apathy

I will not expend the energy to care,
but rather intentionally strive for indifference

In doing so, I sacrifice my desire to write…
Losing desperation makes me hollow

Then again, helplessness is for children.

I am a woman now.

I no longer crave the ability to describe my emotions
Asking for help is not a viable option anymore
I've tried that long enough
Vale Luna May 2021
Lay me down in the bed
you've slept in hundreds of times
It's your habitat
But I intend to make it my nest

I settle into the softness of your kisses
Countered by the weight of your body
A gentle whisper tells me,
"I want to *******"
Before I am swept away
By a tornado of lust and wanton moaning

My desire gets lost
Wandering the canvas of another person's skin
I feel a hand on my throat
Guiding me like a traveler providing directions
Yes, "choke me"
"Choke me harder"
Squeeze like you want to hurt me
Even if you care for me
"Harder" like you hate me

It's enough to send me reeling
I hit the edge, slamming into ******
Your grip on my neck loosens
          Soft kisses
Compensate for our carnal behavior

As I lay under you
A feeling I don't recognize rears its head
Not happiness, no
Euphoria, yes
I've claimed your bed as my refuge.
Vale Luna May 2021
Time slithers away
Fed to the infinite void
that is the past
It slinks slowly into the present.
Why do blood and roses
share the same color?
A crimson droplet
A crimson petal
Both fragments of life
One salter that the other

Throw me in a cage
And watch me bite at my tail;
A ravenous dog
ruined by the boredom of captivity
Tick tock
Another droplet
Another sliver of life
It falls into the puddle
Back into the void.
Self harm triggered by boredom.
Vale Luna Apr 2021
I slept with my door open
Footsteps down the hall;
Left, right, creak, pause
The insides of my eyelids become an abyss
Left, right, left, right (faster…)
Left, right, left, right (faster!)
Left, right, left, right (FASTER!)
Left, right; It reaches my door frame
The weight vanishes ‒‒ I open my eyes
Like there always has been.

I face my open door
The heaviness returns ‒‒ my eyes close
Creak, right, left, right, pause
The void covering my eyes arrives
An outline pierces through my sight
Left, right…
It sits on the edge of my bed
“It’s very nice to be invited in,
People… remarkably quick to lock me out”
A pointed nail drags against my arm
The outline against the abyss reveals a set of claws
“Extraordinarily soft people,”
The weight is broken through
I look around the darkness
Like there always has been.

I try to sleep with the door open
The heaviness is aggressive this time
It’s outline sits, looming over me
“I have not been in many rooms,
Yours is the most stimulating.”
It envelopes my vision
I feel a warm breath on my ear
“I have always wondered…
If the human is still alive when I bite it
Will it scream?”
I feel a set of razor sharp teeth settle onto my neck
I struggle to break through the weight
My eyes open
Like there always has been.

Who sleeps with their door open?
The force closing my eyes swallows me
The creature’s outline flops
against the black backdrop
It’s thorny teeth the only visible ****** feature
“Before I go, I must request something”
It shifts closer to me in bed
A whisper speaks,
“Look me in the eye.”
The weight wrestles me
I win by stubbornness
When I look around my room, I see
Like there always has been.

I tried sleeping with my door open
The heaviness hits me like a wave
slamming against rocks
Along with its teeth,
The outline attained eyes
Bulging through a skull,
littered with cracks
“Thank you,”
Its blade-like teeth spread
“It’s good to know I’m welcome here.”

When I awake, I hear
Like there always has been.
I look towards my door…
It’s closed,
Which is odd,
because I’m certain I fell asleep with it open.
Vale Luna Feb 2021
Open your eyes
Look at me
and tell me what I have become.
I cannot see for myself
My reflection melts mirrors
and turns puddles into vapor
I glare into the abyss
Hoping to catch a glimpse of my own pupils
I don’t know what I look like
Tell me,
How will my eyes look
when our stares meet for the first time?
Yes, I tore out the soul
Behind the doors of flesh covering my eye sockets
I have scraped my nails against bone
As my fingers pressed into my eyes
and carved out the consciousness that possessed me

Open your eyes
I need to know how my skin pulsates
What undulating form has it taken today?
Can you hear it?
Gurgling restlessly
My shape refuses to remain consistent
Tell me,
What will my body look like
when you lay eyes on me?
Yes, I am wounded
The color crimson oozes from my pores
It sticks to my flesh possessively
I collect chunks of the liquid on my skin
As I imagine it decorates me nicely

Open your eyes
I need you to describe my limbs
For I always feel that I am reaching
for something I cannot obtain
My fingers squirm
into tight crevices and holes they are unwelcome in
Like curious, thoughtless insects
Unaware of the consequences for prying
Tell me,
What will my limbs appear as
when you set sight on me?
Yes, I have fought against conformity
by twisting my bones out of line
Listen. Hear each splintering cracks
defining how I am different

Open your eyes
You have to answer what my expression looks like
I can never seem to sync my face with my emotions
It’s tricky to coordinate such complex ideas
Tell me,
What will my expression be
when you finally gaze upon me?
Yes, I’m afraid I can’t change that
I carved my smile with a butcher’s knife
from ear to ear
So I wouldn’t have to fake it anymore

Now open your eyes
Tell me what I have become
Shackle me to my image
Let me stare back at someone
who sees me for the first time.
Look at me.
Vale Luna Aug 2020
The melodic hum of Nothing
        sits atop the air,
droning on and over,
untethered to terrain or horizon;
It drools unceasingly-
         a chronic, abject symphony,
Ignored by the bustle of birth-
though subservient
               all the same
        To the unabated, morose consonance

The world will not wait for me.
A bit more 'academic' than my normal poetry...
  Aug 2020 Vale Luna
Hello,  I am a puddle person.
I'm certainly not the only puddle person, of course.
And I often think I'm more puddle then person.

I lay on the floor still.
People come by and see themselves reflected in me.
Sometimes they step in me,  and drops of me splish around and evaporate.

I'm content being a puddle it's, comfortable.
People are aware of me whether looking at themselves, tip toeing around me or jumping in.

I am NOT invisible.

Love me or hate me this puddle person isn't going anywhere,
until I become more puddle then person.
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