If i gave this empty feeling a name to
beckon, call, cry or scream
I would force myself to acknowledge it’s presence.
To acknowledge the crushing weight that clings to my neck like a noose.
I would be forced to call this weight my own,
I would be forced to proclaim it mine and face it's tightening hold
The more I plunge myself into the depths of my emptiness.
I would fear i would come to fix it,
To acknowledge that i am not okay,
That my saran wrapped skin is on display for you,
For anyone to bear witness to my path of self-destruction
To watch me to put myself together again and
Fear who I can be without this empty feeling I've made a home in.
01:57am // 08.27.2021
If loneliness is a memory that tastes like
cigarette smoke and *** soaked ash
I have lived it a thousand times.
If the endless nothingness of being lonely swallows me again and again,
like waves on a beach,
Leaving me to drown again and again-
Leaving me gasping for breath in a moment of mercy.
If loneliness tastes like getting caught in a thunderstorm in an unfamiliar place
And there is no one to comfort you,
Then I have been left in the cold for what feels like an eternity
If my father could see me now
I hope that he would be disappointed in me.
It would be easier than knowing
I can make out a man underneath the smoke,
underneath the mountain of ash left on a burning man’s face.
It would be easier to hold water in my hands than accept
that his love would burn me to ash too
i'll leave him to burn a while longer
i saw a video on tiktok.
on a father wanting to spend time with his daughter-
something i couldn’t quite remember
the last time i heard the words fall from his mouth without meaning.
i saw my screen through half blurred eyes,
half burned with half shed tears
as he said i love you.
something i couldn’t remember
the last time i heard those words
without filled with a need to rip my skin new.
hi i have daddy issues
julliet 8. 2021
i hang my head over the cool white surface
gazing at last hours lunch.
my stomach hurts.
i hang my head over the cool white surface, washing away my pain
and remmenants i couldn’t flush away.
my teeth ache.
i stare at my reflection:
short cropped hair,
almost beautifully defined cheekbones,
red eyes that feel hallowed.
my throat aches.
i turn to the cool white surface,
a colourful mosaic of food i can name
on all of my fingers
and notes from my daily logs.
i ache for the number on the scale
to drop once more.
23 juin 2021
my eyes burn with unshed tears
as i swallow the lump in my throat,
willing myself not to break down.
all because i heard your name in passing.
22 avril 22
it's 3 am again;
and you're still not here.
22 avril 2021