It seems like forever since
i have found true happiness.

It feels like a spark within
me has vanished.

I am not what i used to be

a once carefree, crazy-spirited
girl

Turned into an uncontrollable mess
of binging, purging, hunger, anxiety, unworthiness
and anger

i feel like i am never good enough
or ever good at anything

everybody looks down on me
                        i am nothing in their eyes.

stop for a moment

                  awaken at 5 am and listen to the birdsong, their melodies capturing your soul
                  look up at the sky and gaze at the moon in wonder and appreciate it's allure
                  bless each wilting flower you pass and whisper to it's soul, tell it of it's beauty
                  watch as the stars dance
                        s w i r l i n g and s w i r l i n g and s w i r l i n g
                  admire the galaxies as they foxtrot to the sound of a harp
                  whisper back to the spaces inbetween the branches of autumn ridden trees
                
appreciate that which nature has blessed you with
and smile each and every day

I saw the light inside your soul
Struggle against your body
Long bouts of dullness
Seeped into illness
Getting dimmer and dimmer
It blinked and flickered
and at times shone blindingly bright
Glowed.

I saw the life
Though your shell shuddered in pain
And your hair fell away
As your figure swayed
The longing to hold your grandchild
Lovingly kiss the soft cheeks
Ignoring that you were weak
and soothingly stroke the hair

I saw the telling wrinkles
Give away your secrets
Smile lines
and worry lines.
Twinkling eyes
Glazed over as you forgot who I am.

I saw you unwillingly give up trying
Your efforts in vain
Dragged down
Inevitably bed bound.

I saw the recognition
The realisation
The acceptance
In your spirit
and went through the refusal
The denial
Confusion and anger
Depression
And eventually a hard slap of
Reality.

I didn't sleep again last night
my yesterday is still taking place
as my fingers gently press these keys
so as to not wake my brother
restless,
I realized,
I've seen a sunset
but never a sunrise

the streets were still asleep
the only ones about
only the down and out
the poor black folk
the aimless hipsters
the homeless
the single mothers with three jobs
who wait alone
under a flickering street light
for the bus which will take them
to their deadpan jobs
the puddles from last night's storm
rest with not a ripple
and the pretty little birdies
start finding their voice
restless,
I realized,
after the sunsets
the world opens up her eyes

periwinkle horizons
blend easily with the grey skyline
and the line between man and God blurs
the sky is tropical mango cocktails
and pillows of white Caribbean sand
the smell is left -
like a residue -
chasing after the tail of a storm
but the air is wet to the touch
hinting at repeat of the downpour
and I would've sat on the arm of that denim sofa
hour after hour
until the world was ready to wake up
giving me a chance to sleep off their insecurities,
only,
I felt like writing this poem
only,
I felt like a sunrise
or maybe a sunset?
or just maybe
a ******* supernova
I felt good
brimming with peace in my gut
like a warm fire
restless,
I realized,
that after all is set
I will still love the sunrise

In 2005, I had $101.
Sweet Blue,
eyes green,
waiting.
Dilating.

In 2005, I had $101.
Sweet Blue,
is what I called you.
God of Euphoria.
Mother's Milk.

In 2005, I had $101.
Sweet Blue,
had a street
value,
of twenty-five
a pill.
I bought four,
and thankfully
the dollar bill,
was crisp enough to roll.

A different world together,
holding hands.
Greedy for the feeling of calm,
I would grasp tighter,
hand eventually crushing hand.
Morose disposition spirals through a cut straw.
A last straw; an unwanted kiss.

Hand holding hand is a symbolic image,
but don't confuse the inflection of these words.

This is about
the deteriorating hands.
This is about
the deteriorating nostrils.
Not so much about cheap thrills.
Not so much anything,
forgetting,
drugs ****.

your life hangs in a balance
a rotting see-saw
of deprivation
you listen to the chorus
of growling, pleading
from your internal organs
begging for sustenance
and you smile
are you proud of the pain you inflict on your body
or just yourself?
I'll watch you decompose
and tell you your decaying flesh is beautiful
because I know you're not looking for bones
or extra fabric on your jeans
but while your stomach cries
for yesterday's missing lunch
your mind weeps
for something to be proud of
and if the only thing you can do right
is your hipbones
then so be it

hello, anxiety
welcome to my humble abode
tell me you're doing well
you seem to be thriving
in this poor excuse for a body
I wish I could say the same
my love
my constant companion
my greatest weakness
I see you've made yourself at home
please, enjoy your stay
I'd offer you coffee
maybe tea, or just water
but it appears I have forgotten how to ask.