You could say i have the heart of a miser, but you can't say I do not have one. For it beats in my chest, threatening to sweep this head off my neck with tsunamis of sickening blood. As if i had infinite emotions to gnaw at. My soul seem to be a bottomless pit, eternally craving to be fed. And I never knew how to satisfy it. I seem to be different from the others. Void of emotions. Speaking only to stir trouble, on the sorry excuse of giving myself reasons to feel. I had no clue about the inability to communicate with my mother. We hardly exchange words, and those that escape my tightly sown lips were only to spite her. But they were words from the very end of this bottomless pit, which all sums up to "I lost all I respect".

I've stated in the beginning, I have the heart of a miser; I have not forgotten the words she told me 30 odd days back. If elephants never forget, then I guess I have these ivory tusks made to cut like a hunter's spear on anything that's alive. Cut off anything that's okay. Turn everything that is okay into something that is not. Explosive cars and houses set ablaze are akin to fireworks; the only thing that seems to catch my eyes anymore. And the smoke that lingers smells like a house freshly painted; addictive. That is until they smother my skin. I can't help but cringe at the monster in the mirror. I wasn't like this. I don't know how I've come to this. I don't know why.

The words that mothers say are lessons taught to their children. So i suppose I've learnt that I am a ***** and that I'm better off dead. 30 odd days. Are you proud of me, Mum? I have not forgotten what you taught. Today you screamed. I would like to say the spit that landed on my skin burnt like acid. But truthfully, I don't feel a thing. You asked for the wrong that you've done. You screamed into my face, DO NOT CALL ME YOUR MOTHER. I AM NOT WORTHY, as yours contorted so much I could almost feel something. Mum, I'm not worthy to tell you what you've done wrong for I don't feel a tad sorry for what I turned us into. It was a mistake to give birth to me. I'm not even sure if I missed what we used to have. I can't remember what we had.

I'm sorry if this house ever burns to the ground.

Mum, I wish I wasn't a monster.

how horrifying it must be, if i ever lock you in the chambers of my wretched heart. you might expect the room to be crimson, but it will be ignited by warped blue pipes. lubdub lubdub as they threaten to burst and drown you in the colours of the skies. i imagine the skin by your lips loosen thread by thread before your jaws fall to the ground. how funny it will be when you can't speak after you find out the liquid that should taste salty like deep blue seas, or sweet like blueberries, is bitter like rusty metal knives. you never knew the taste of my blood on your skin, but now you will.

12:00a.m.: chimes of the clock. the walls heal and the blue liquid runs for the drains. everything will be back to normal. you must be confused how the room looks untouched and smell freshly built of bitter paint; well, thank this stubborn heart that heals itself every time it breaks. now count my heartbeats with your trembling fingers, will you?

12:01a.m.: the walls will constrict. this time the ceilings crumble and you shall scream as jagged pieces of debris hit. please remind yourself that those were ounces of my heart. if you look up the hole, you will see a crescent indent on my lungs, as it exhales dying stars. a sharp intake of breath and the nights skies will tumble into what seemed to be a black hole. darkness. you won't be able to see. you can't count my heartbeats anymore. but guess what, it's still beating.

3:30a.m.: blood-thirsty rats. lubdub lubdub. footsteps on the roof. lubdub lubdub; it echoes in the room. the walls start closing in. oh darling, have you ever heard of heart-wrenching stories? blue pipes will grow mouths and voices shall grow limbs. screams, cries, disapproval resonating in your little head. that's what happens in this living chamber; each pump brings disastrous outcome. i'm afraid you might go crazy, from what only goes on in this trifling portion of my soul.

now let me tell you something no one knows- my heart never stops; and my dear, i'm considering to let you in.

waking up to empty leather seats
they smelt nothing like you, not even near
the blurred vision of the orange skies
is it because of my tears?
the dews that formed on the windscreen
captured sweet memories of you,
your favourite song's playing on the radio
but there's just static in my mind.

those sunflowers we grew together
they're drooping down and brown
just like the sunset i detest now,
wilted without your love.
remember how you joked
about where i will be without you?
i guess i know the answer now,
i'll be here under the skies.
while my soul is nowhere near,
still in search for the same sun
that bloomed when i was in your arms.

the skies are getting dark
the moon, the stars are getting up
it didn't take much to realise
that we are so much the same.
the moon longing for the sun miles away
how i long for you six feet under;
the dead stars shining so brightly
how i smile ever since you brought
a part of me with you to your grave.

i guess i'll shut my eyelids when the days arrive
i'll kiss you in my dreams where you were still alive.
nowadays the sunrise are hideous
people wonder why i never looked at the skies,
the brightness will pierce deep in my skin
while it reminds me of your smile,
and the cuts will drip pools of blood
painting pictures of you.
and while my heart breaks to pieces
you will still stay
because you are safely engraved
in each and one of them.

nothing's the same anymore
and i have become dead,
the beauties of the world
i could no longer see,
i hope you know that all i need now
is for you to hold me near.

please whisper in my ears,
please tell me you are still here.