strength
is the emptiness that fills

           and claws from the inside

strength
is standing on two feet

            and shaking

strength
is a spinning head

            and an empty mind

strength
is dark shadows underneath empty eyes

           and one, two, three, four ribs they see

strength
is feeling life slowly deteriorate

            and slip through bony fingers

color draining from sunken cheeks
pale skin falling away from fragile bones
shallow breaths puffing through a broken body
heavy eyelids raising against the struggle

             and seeing

mediocrity isn’t
something to be strived for
and being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure

it’s heavier than any weight
that could be strapped to your back,
larger than any expectations
you delude yourself into thinking you must meet
emptiness fills
more than you would think

your feeble body on the ground
stirs no pity in me
i hope the steel-toed boots
striking you from every direction
leave bruises that last
i hope the stench of your rotting flesh
gags you and brings up the lack
of what you hold inside
i hope old scabs are ripped open again
and your hands lay weak by your side
unable to stop the flow of blood

let me hear you say that you are nothing,
           that you have nothing valuable to offer
let me hear you say that you are a waste of space,
            an unwanted burden
let me hear you cry and plead for an end,
            although you don’t deserve that escape

i want to hear you say that you’re a murderer

i want you to go back:
             look into his eyes
             watch them dilate with fear
             and then see the light leave them

             feel his blood on your hands
             leaving a permanent mark
             that doesn’t wash off under water

             feel his body turn cold
             as the life inside him stops
             with his heartbeat

your sniveling apologies do nothing
but turn my stomach over
don’t touch me,
i don’t care if the blood is gone

being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure
i hope you never get away
from that weight

do you know everything about me?
would i be familiar if we spoke,
or would you see me as half a mystery--
some warped young girl of six who grew up
wrong.

could i talk to you anyway,
could i tell you and would you understand
the deja-vu-type feeling of the same
way other people break my heart
for good as well as bad?

anyway, i would tell you that no one
is gentle enough.
i've been listening to bob dylan all day and maybe
i'd like to talk to him, too.

how is it that you walk so close beside me,
how is it that you stomach my visibly aching soul?
i make dents in my walls,
i am scolded like a dog
how is it that you walk so close beside me,
you do not speak but once, or maybe i don't hear
i become slow and gentle--
i choke on my *****, i am silent yet only in this
throat, this mouth, these lungs of "mine"
sets in--what helps?
patterns shift, squiggle, corner of this eye of "mine"
but they hide. i can't blame them

calm water, gentle water-- a comfortable sea of forever
time
         ceaselessly
                              provides.
i forgot what 'warm' felt like; 'soft', 'safe'
reaching holding grasping clutching REACHING but
without hands! how weary an attempt. the deep spine
of a book for refuge, desperately sought from within
a churning maze of salty air and soaking wet misery.
dry land dry land vast open plains,
to see, to breath, to know, to be dry, to be warm--
the agony of an unmeetable need. is this the fate of
"mine", to drown forever yet never succumb to the pulling, tugging
reach of
death?
her sweet voice and soft breath on my eyelids
echo throughout the forest of the mind and linger in shadowy
overhangs. night fell early today, oh, yes it did
it fell early and dark. no moon tonight,
not even she would come out. no moon to see tonight,
but she's there, she's at work.
the sea is powerful tonight.

PTSD girl says sorry, PTSD girl says 'oh god, what have i done?'
PTSD girl says it over and over again, she repeats these words
she knows to be true forever
because truth is STATIC, YOU ARE STATIC??
'i'm sorry', those are the worst words.
sorry for WHAT, maybe you SHOULD BE
******* SORRY.
i am so ashamed and i hide my anger, please don't leak out,
please please just shut your mouth shut your heart
shut your lungs. hold onto everything
don't you dare grimace don't yell don't quake,
keep it whole keep yourself whole. apologize for  even
THINKING otherwise. puke out your anger.
take it out on yourself. PTSD girl is a secret
don't tell!! they'll ******* hate you

(dissolve me) not that my ego matters.
i crumble i shake i quake i shiver break DISSOLVE
it did on my tongue, i was naive.
i am lost and confused, withdrawing into my own head for safety
the same way i would rip apart my own being
to fell calm. safety is not about sacrifice.
i am lost. invisible disassociation because i do not belong
here, whatever that ******* word means am i even
seventeen? condescending sympathy and my stomach
is i knots knots knots, i ***** i'm sick
i am sick i'm sorry
what if i'm interpreting these signs wrong, although
right is not a priority. i am not broken,
not whole, not pieces, just a soul.
i crave myself, i crave words that i have yet to say,
do you have an elastic heart and do i too,
where can i get one? i am done here
but have much to do. i need to find myself within something
real i do not know where i have gone
please come back i'm missing you
WHERE ARE YOUR WORDS PLEASE