She's got me again.
Pushed up against the doorway.
And its so warm inside.

My breath, you can see,
Shaking against the winter
That seeps into her eyes and settles in her bones.

Her fingers line my shoulders
And fidget their way to my ribs
Where flowers do grow but never stay for dinner.

And I dont stop her
Because she holds me above water sometimes.
And I dont really want to drown.

You look in the mirror and know bloating is your enemy
You have people tell you, you are too flat
You are not skinny, you are not fat
When food can be your frenemy

You put in all this work
You have people tell you it will never be enough
You are not strong, you are not weak
When your body can call your bluff

You always try and stick to the rules
You have people tell you that you could do better and include this and that
You are not memorable, you are not forgetful
When your diet looks like something you do not get at

Half-***, half-wit, half-empty, half-over, half-life.
I always come in halves,
holes

cigarette, puff-puff-pass to the wind in solitary solicitation on the balcony,
half-*** smile.
I should like to never rise again.

I think I sleep to die.

Somebody save me,
Before I pull my walls up and before my pride takes over.
I'm in need of saving.

Usually I'm not one for these humble words,
I'd rather ramble, stutter and diverse the topic
Throwing jokes in mid air for you to catch and forget the situation
Only to quickly build walls and listen to my inner demons telling me that I'm alright and that they'll save me.

Somebody save me
Because who I was is not who I am
And that's terrifying,
It's petrifying
And I can't help but shake.

Okay stop.
Truth is right now as we speak, I'm building walls.
Regretting every word that utters,
My inner demons are telling me to stop, they are telling me that I'm fine.
That these thoughts are just non existent.

And trust me I want to believe that.
I want to be able to follow their instructions,
Because truth be told they are the greatest distractions.
But these subliminal thoughts are killing me,
Taking away everything that defines who I am.

I don't know what to do.
'Talk', they say.
' I do' believe me I do.
But talking does not help when they don't listen and try to understand.
I am on the verge of losing myself.
And I keep talking, talking but they keep brushing me away.

"It'll get better, it's all in your head", they say.
Sometimes to be spontaneous they throw half heated "sorry" or "Wow, I never knew", but they did.

Somebody save me.
Because my inner demons are fighting my subliminal demons and it's tearing me to pieces.
One minute I know I'm not okay and the next I say I am.
A few seconds later I'm ****** up and I want to cry and the next my own tears make me feel awkward because I'm okay.

I'm afraid of going home.
The thought is bitter,
It makes me sour.
My inner demons say that it's because I'm a city kid it's a phase feeling.
My subliminal demons tell me , I have not accepted and therefore I'm haunted by what is not home.

I'm afraid of being alone.
Sure my inner demons are on high alert.
They make sure that I am distracted.
That I'm always busy, fiddling, reading,  something.
But the minute I zone out,
Like now, I don't breathe, I Witness my pain,
I feel it.
I'm not alright.
But thankfully just like now. My inner demons take those thoughts away.

Nobody save me.
I'm alright

When I was a kid,
Whenever the word, 'Ouchy" was used, my mother would rush to my assistance.
At the age of three, I realized that every time I said that golden word, my mother would come.
So I decided to keep saying it.
I craved my mother's attention.
I would scream, "Ouchy" as if I had just lost a finger.
She would run to me and I would only smile.
"Only kidding* I would say.
But see, now I realize that that's gone.
It wont be coming back any time soon.
See because now I'm on my own.
I look out the window,
see how the sun and the moon revolve around each other.
like a budding friendship,
swayed by the moon,
where the sun is hot
and the moon is bright.
Just like the way my mom used to make me feel.
The more I've grown
the more I realize,
hell, I need my mother
Because now if I say Ouchy!
no one gives the slightest bit of a ****
When I was young,
when responsibilities where irrelevant,
when "ouchy" was my call-sign
I abused it. I abused that time.I used it for personal gain.
Now, I'm a nobody.
Doesn't feel good now that I'm an average citizen.
I have a story,
I used to tell my mother "ouchy" for her attention.
But so did the other hundred people behind me in the welfare line.  
Now, average faces in these average places are meaningless.
I walk the same streets I did when I was a kid, hand in hand with my mother.
With her, every pace seemed to be an adventure.
With her, every place was a new sight, even if I had been in the pizza shop a billion and one times.
So now I stand in the very same pizza shop
standing on the same tile floors
with the same smell of rising doe and pepperoni dancing in the air.
Walking in,
I wasn't paying attention and shoulder-checked the door
and felt myself whisper "Ouch"
Amazingly enough,
mom wasn't there.
She didn't **** out of the clouds, with an epic crash as she executed a perfect landing, her cape flowing in the wind.
No, instead, as a tear hit my cheek,
(because I did hit it hard)
No one even looked back.
Instead I just waltzed straight in.
Ordered my childhood favorite pizza
(pepperoni & mushrooms)
and took it home.
Couldn't help but to keep whispering, Ouchy, Ouchy
It felt so weird to say it again.  
Even weirder
To simply have no one respond
So this is just a weird way of saying
thanks mom, for covering my every ouchy
even if,
they *weren't real

You knew my story.
You knew my worse chapter.
You knew my last chapter.
But never knew you were in my story of lies.