I. the apparition

i don't fear death,
i fear never being born;
i fear not my last breath,
but all the breaths in between;
how do i know i'm alive?

II. the left foot

for what purpose is the sun without its light?
for what use are eyes without their sight?
for what good is a left foot without the right?
and for what joy is a string without its kite?
will i ever be complete?

III. father

as branches grow to the shape of their roots,
as vermillion bloodies every spring with a drop:
could i escape original sin?
could i become a better man--
could i become my own man?

IV. aneurysm

would lightning dare blaze up a tree
that has yet to bear fruit?
would the gods dare strike down an artist
with a painting unfinished?
fate is neither cruel nor fair.

Friday night
Window open
Cigarette lit
Praying that the house is still asleep
Hoping to maintain the good girl reputation
Maybe they wont find out
But then again too drunk to even care
My mind is unconsciously running out of reasons why I should stop
The addiction is too strong
The persuasiveness is at its all time high
And the regret remains at the bottom of an empty bottle
I hide myself behind drunken nights that are as never as fun as they sound
I want to forget it all
So I cross the lines that I drew to keep myself away
Not even thinking of going back
Not even wasting my time on the fact that the more I do it
The more permanent the thoughts become
You are engraved into the concrete of my mind
And I still
Constantly
Tell myself that if I just keep going
If I just keep pushing myself
It'll all go away
But it doesn't
Every time
It comes back

Suicide seems so bitter-sweet
Bitter: You are dead
Sweet: You get to choose when
Although I have craved
That simple taste of death
I was never brave enough
To end it all at once
So I have substituted that bitter-sweet death
With the bitter-sweet taste
Of a lit cigarette
Killing myself slowly
One inhale at a time

Too many times we forget that it's possible to be happy

Music strips me bare of all my
worries, regrets and anxiety.
I finally feel at home
surrounded by it's comfort.

for I need my night as much as day
and when it comes, it comes what may

no shy question, no subtlety
the tongue may tie, still it cries out from me

day holds the knife, and oh how bright
but where dreams tear free? the realm of night

so take this hand, step to the dark
when the blade’s pressed close
ever deeper beats the heart




- - - -

The past can make it so easy to relapse

not because of the past itself

but

running away from it

and burying it in the subconscious,

hiding it away and letting it silently

fest fest fest.

Is what causes you to be haunted.

---

Pain;

A raging sore, a deep wound, an eternal scar,

just wants to be felt; acknowledged.

So I try not, to ignore it

when I see the marks of the past; knives

digging into the valves of my heart; pain

even when it comes back

strong and hard and fighting

like a hurricane

carrying me away under water

suffocating the freedom in my punctured lungs

I will not let it destroy me.

—-

Its not because I am weak that I struggle with it

but the brain is strong; be aware...

For thoughts can make you a victim of your own mind

though I hope
there will be a time when

healing, that miraculous God-sent healing is at the end.

When

you stop ignoring the past

and instead start loving those broken pieces, the shame you felt,

the fear that crippled

and realise

it will soon ease, soon melt away, soon diminish

and you’ll remember

**pain has no authority to hurt

It seems every single time
you walk back into my life I fall ill
under the heaviness of your stare.*

As if your irises could burn
similar circular orbs straight through my heart,
deteriorating my insides until
I can't find the means to even breathe anymore.
My mouth remains shut and
my throat is swelling closed.

Yet I am still debating on whether I should just let your stare
turn me to ashes, or use my extra ounce of effort for the latter -
to rapture a scream and finally force you out.

gd