I wanna hear my stomach collapse
Rumbling like screams echoing in an empty tavern
I want stalactite ribs
And stick-man fingers,
Thighs the size of a child’s wrist and
I don’t care what I have to do
To get it

I am obsessed.
Addicted to falling,
Falling numbers,
Falling deeper into disorder, disrepair,
Falling for a girl named Ana
Who tells me I can have everything that I want
For easy daily payments of pain and despair.

But, it feels oh so good to be hungry.
Aches and pains make me high,
And sure, it’s scary knowing I could die but
At this point…
Maybe I’d be okay with that if I get to live one day
At 100 pounds.

What is wrong with me?

I hear the past
laughing
calling
sobbing
and crawling
back on its filthy hands and knees
begging to get back in
clawing to get back in
crying out loudly
howling, chafing and aching
to get back in

.
… and the look of fear
co-existing with pain
     on a contorted face
that knows
it is in mortal difficulty,
as ragged fingers

     clutch,

          clutch,

at a fire they cannot reach,
ripping agonies react,
     to an enforced cardiac episode,
as blackness closes in
gravity heaves its hardest,
but the fall is fake,
a red herring in the event,
     and the weight of the world

presses down, searching,
retracts
waiting,
presses down, searching,
retracts
waiting,

as breath is given freedom
in exhalation to the light,
     that slowly rolls back
the pitch hue of the void,
returning back images,
feeling,
a new belief,

          and the fire inside quietens,

                    and the fire inside quietens,

to the intense glow
     of a burnt aching heart.



© Pagan Paul (2018)

Forced by covenant to conceal
The wound you carry deep
Too dangerous far to now reveal
The secret you must keep

The truth, it’s said, can set you free
Whose truth, I ask my heart
Some truth must hide, to shadow flee
Or slay as a poisoned dart

A truth which must be guarded well
Though to be shouted loud it cries
Must be restrained and forced to dwell
Within a citadel of lies

A soaring fort of alabaster walls
Splendid turrets as disguise
Conceals pits beneath its gilded halls
Where love lies brutalized

Though we ache for all the world to see
To the heart, it matters naught
Two souls are not united by decree
Nor love with license bought

So truth must wait and a prisoner remain
In lonely cell, there to abide
Believe dreams of freedom are not in vain
That gates, one day, will open wide

Some people eat dreams

for
breakfast

and
lunch

and
dinner

and it's not even because
they can't afford food

After the parting
They burnt the letters
Sacks and bags
Envelopes and folders
No one wanted to read
The significance inside.

I slid down the side
Of the velvetine covered bed
And sat amongst my treasures
On a brown wooden floor
If tears could break a vase
Mine would all be shattered.

Love Mary **