Hello, anguish.

Long time, no torture.

How have your travels been?

Tell me, did the fires burn
Too hot for you?
I thought, for once,
I had banished you
To whichever pit
Of Hell
You managed to arise from,
So that you may
Find me so easily,
As the goal of a hunt
Caught in your crosshairs.

I should have known better.

Well, while you're here,
Please have a seat.
Sit anywhere you like.

Anywhere but THERE!

You must be a well-seasoned guest
To know exactly which door to knock on,
And exactly where you want to rest.
So of course you pick my heart,
And lay your feet upon my soul.

I do so hope you're comfortable.

Insistent *******.

How have I been?

Why, how kind of you to ask.

What's your motive?

I've been fine, really.
A little sporadic uneasiness
Here and there,
But mostly on the fast track
To regaining my peace of mind.

Well, I was actually
In the middle of it
When you arrived.

I sound like I'm talking to a therapist.

Yes, I need 10 milligrams of Stop Talking To Inanimate Feelings.

Oh, don't be sorry.

As if you ever are.

I don't mind the company at all.
I do spend so much time
Alone these days.

I was well on my way
To finding my resting place,
My place of solitude
And productive thought,
A fragile teacup
Of a space
In the landfill
Of the world.

Some days are better
Than others.

What's that?

A gift, you say?

A souveneir, perhaps?

To hell if I'm keeping whatever it is.

What might you have for me this time.

Some sort of anxiety, I'm sure. But what about this time around?

My schooling? My finances? My family? My relationship, matters of the heart?


Oh.

Uncertainty.

Well... it wasn't
what I was expecting,
But still, it's nothing less
Than what I would expect from you.

Uncertainty about what,
Though?

There's no label this time.

.........

What do you mean,
It's a gift for identifying?

And WHERE are you going?

No.

NO.

You cannot simply leave this here,
Resting upon my weary shoulders,
Which bear so much already,
And leave me to figure it out.
You mustn't simply waltz off
Into the unknown blackness
Of the recesses of the human mind,
As if you haven't a care in the world.

You are a terrible guest,
Showing up uninvited,
At a most inconvenient time,
Bearing gifts of unneeded,
Unnamed weight,
Leaving me to figure it out.

Fine. Leave.

You wretched, vile creature.

See if I let you in again.
Begone, and let every door
Hit you on your way out.
May every jagged rock
In your path
Catch your foot in your
Sadistic, carefree walk
About the earth.
May every web
That spiders weave
Entangle you
Beyond rescue.

Yes, goodbye.

Now, what of this....
Thing?

It has no name,
Yet I am supposed
To know what it is.

Hmm.

Feels like...
Questioning.

Yes, there's questioning here.

Many questions.

But of what?

I have questions about
Many things,
As my curious nature
Must have it so.

Also feels like...
Emotion.

Unwanted emotion.

How that little beast
Does manage to bring
The worst gifts to me,
At the worst times,
Is beyond me.

He needs a hobby.

Let's see... emotions
Of the heartfelt kind.
Of the deep recesses
Of that bipolar *****
Which no ne trusts
And everyone breaks.

Emotions and questions.

Oh dear God.

No.

No, I must dispose of it
Right away.

This is the sort of thing
I fear most.
HOW did he manage,
Also,
To get fear in there,
As well?!

No, it must be thrown away.


"Do not yell your curses at me!"

"Who are you to say that I
Haven't an idea at all
What I want, and when,
And where, and why?!
What judge are you,
And with what authority
Do you claim I am divided,
My side unpicked,
And that a canyon
Lives within me?"

"Petty fool, you are not welcome here!"
I know what I am doing!
And I shall make the rules,
For it is I who must obey them!"


Alas,
There are no rules.
None to be made,
And none to be followed.

Even more tragic,
Is that I know not
What I am doing,
And I doubt I ever will.

For it is these,
Of all horrid gifts,
Delivered without
Notice,
At the precious price
Of losing sureness of mind
And peace of the soul,
That may not be returned.

The gift that keeps on giving,
Until I decide it shan't...

A decision I cannot bear to make,
While in company
Of battered spirit,
Fearful heart,
And overconfident,
Incessantly calculating mind. 

For now that he is gone,
I must entertain them, too.  

*How did I ever get so lucky?

whisper me to the sea.
salty breaths enlighten me.

let the wind capture my soul
as it passes me, brushing shoulders
with the crowd of tourists and locals
that meander through the clock tower plaza,
a town renovated to appease to the soldiers
and the thousands of Americans who wish to claim
respect and claim their connection to a place
they learned about in a History class,
a few years back.
there must be more.

the salt cleans my nostrils of any hate,
the air filling me up, lifting me away,
and I feel weightless, like I’m about to arrive
in the freshest of places, the greenest of spaces,
and the best chapter in the book of my life.

I am a tourist myself, but my mind is cleaner
—don’t take my comments as hate,
but only distance from their kind—
and it’s this slate that the sea wipes
again and again with each breath,
like each gallop a freed horse makes
in the fields of this same island

a few years back.

a grass blade, a bead of sand, a drop of the ocean’s water
in your hand, seeping between the cracks
of this world’s distaste, and I have begun to wonder how lovely
freedom must taste, particularly on the tongues of those opposed,
denied of the wooden planks that could carry them home,
and whose only solace was in the song
of the ocean kissing their skin, massaging their back, and
letting them float and imagine that there is something more.

for the ocean is the only way we can ever know how to fly,
our feet never land and our hearts beat towards the sky.

99 cent wars, rooftops, Gibraltar Screaming "god bless the fabulous" Christs;

In the eyes of years
Man is king only over that which breathes,
So let's throw hugs in the air,
sit on flowers and vanish to Cook stones on the hips of Cleopatra
with all of December's left footed children

For through the cried ***** tears of furry German banana caskets,
Eternity awaits
In the failures of our greatest triumphs,

So let's dance

After all, Psychological Wednesday societies
Are only good for curing Xbox manifestos and Tuesday sanities

And if we died one day,
it sure won't be yesterday.

The month I spent in the hospital was strange and dismal
The days seemed to blur into one long melancholia,
I was sick and tired of being sick and tired
My body was weak and so was my fight
The hospital's sterile smell and white walls began to feel like home

I remember the first time I saw myself, in that dark and depressing hospital bathroom
I caught my reflection in the mirror
Ashen skin, dark circles, protruding bones
Who was this girl?
I winced at the sight of her

I looked like I was dying, but then again, the doctors thought I was
What was happening to me? My body was betraying me and it showed
No wonder my mother had been looking at me like she had seen a ghost lately
With sorrow and fright filled eyes

I woke up one night to her sobs
I pretended not to hear, it was easier that way
I was so selfish then
Too wrapped up in my own misery to hear her cries

The days felt like years in there
Eventually the visitors and flowers stopped
But I didn't mind
I needed to clear my thoughts
And watching people try to hide their trepidation when they saw me for the first time was growing old

People never know what to say or do around a sick person
What do you say to someone who's dying?
Do you ask them how they are? You already know the answer
But you ask anyway, then they lie and say they're fine
Because "that's a stupid question" is an inappropriate response

I remember the day they said I could go home
Suddenly, I felt dysphoric
Why was I feeling this way? I hated it here
But in a twisted way I was going to miss it
Because sometimes, we find comfort in chaos

She asked if she could give me a hug
And I said sure, go ahead
She told me that if I needed anyone to talk to, she would be there
As if I would bother listening to her instead
You see, I don’t talk to anyone but the voices inside my head
And it’s not because I’m psychopathic
It’s just that I’ve heard it all
And these superficial sayings are as good as broken elastic
And don’t call me over-dramatic
Because I’m pretty sure saying I’m tired is an understatement
For wanting to bash my head against the pavement
‘Til my skull rips and bleeds and lets the parasite crawl out
The one that’s been infecting my brain, driving me insane
They say that if the urge to **** yourself rises, resist them
But something’s been ******* the soul out of my system
Drinking the juices of happiness and spitting it back as the cider of sadness
And I don’t think you could understand the madness
That comes with not being heard
When I let my story slip and people just gloss it over
But I don’t remember my lips as shiny and shimmery
I think they’re more chapped and bleeding
From biting my tongue and saying you didn’t understand me
It’s not just a phase that comes with age
It doesn’t mean that the next time I smile indicates I’m okay
My problems aren’t corpses that can easily decay
These skeletons are living, breathing, in need of healing
But you give me band-aids for my broken bones instead of surgery
Like I’m some little kid who was just in a hurry and fell
If that’s the case I must have slipped up to thinking you could lend me a hand
I must have tripped out of my mind to hoping you could help me stand
So sure, go ahead and give me a long hug
If that makes you feel any better
Just don’t give me your sympathy
Because all you are is a fork in my wall plug.