A passing wind,
A waking dream,
In silent he came,
No words,
No gestures,
Only his presence.
I feel so alive.

I stared in the mirror, looked at my own sad reflection and
wondered,

When did I abandoned my own self?
When did I lose my grip of my mental being?
Why did I hide under the covers to get away from the monsters?

I have never looked in the closet because I was afraid of what I might find.
My fears of the unknown have always taken me for a ride. A ride, I still can not get off of.
I have tried to lock the demons away in my mind, into the abyss. They always seem to break out of their prison and crucify my soul, when I am the least capable of fighting back.

My whole life has been in total blackness inside the belly of the beast. Only when I close my eyes, do I see a small glimmer of light or hope.

Then I wake up and realize the mirror that I have been staring into the whole time was broken and shattered.

DID I BREAK IT?

You can never,
Stop running,
If you have a dream.

So run,
As fast as you can.

Your thoughts are a danger to you and i
They lay bricks in your head making you unable to fly
Building giant tombs in your mind
Making a peaceful place for your dreams to die
I will not allow it this time
Into your head i will go
Gently but effective
I will eat your demons whole
And all the negativity that flows through them
Will become a part of me
I refuse to let them take you down
Not this time
Empty out your hopeless head
And pour it into mine
I'll turn their skulls into bowls to catch the overflow
Tear off their wings and sew them to your back
I want to see you soar
Far away from their attack

I'll cut my own wings off
If it means keeping your soul intact

I hope i meet you soon

Take the rainbow bridge,
End the sentimental journey,
For an adventure awaits,
To those who dare.

Take the quest,
Conquer the mysteries,
Find the secret escapes,
Of the Promised Land.

It's a chapstick
lip lick
hit of a day.
Winter has come and
it's planning to stay.
I shall write in my diary only
the words that will fire me
up.

there is a wishing well
behind your eyes

and i'm throwing all my coins
all my keys
anything that
clinks
at the bottom of your irises

i'm running out of pennies;
wishing is a game of fools
but

let my heart past your eyelashes
fingers crossed for
the telltale clink
and the ripples you hide when
you blink dreams away

is it not heavy enough?
i will weigh it with a little
more rain;
more rusty coins and
maybe then you'll hear
my heartbeat
clinking
against metallic tears

i know your pupils
are not black holes
like the one i have tucked
away from sight behind my ribcage
but still

i fear that all my coins
and all my keys
are not loud enough
to whisper what i cannot
in this vacuum between us


*please just let me go

i tried to eat my whole heart raw once.


but i could not stomach it. could not stomach the noxious ventricles down my throat, could not swallow the bollus of unfleshly pink carnage.
so i broke it into pieces and i blamed you instead, because it seemed easier to say you broke me than to say that i ever loved you.


i.

this is how you broke me :

whenever i thought of you ******* her i would think of dying inside.


dying is a blessing.

dying is the movie that i am too young to watch but too old to resist. dying is divinity, it is paradisical death in slow motion, an entity mushrooming in between the eyes of a decaying rabbit. it is tears being ****** back into the eyes of a small girl, legs apart, ***** ripped, the fruitlessness of futility bleeding out like saliva from a mouth. dying is being idle, dying is being able to think without questioning existence, dying is a moth, paled by smoke.


it is that tuesday night i promised myself i would never write again
if all i wrote was about you.



ii.


this is how i broke myself :

whenever i thought of you dying inside her, i would think of *******.


******* is a blessing.  


******* is the reason an orchid can sing without a stigma. ******* is the malformation of your tongue when you say " i hate myself, because i hate you, but i hate you more. ". ******* is about three blocks away from love. ******* and love are probably secret **** buddies. ******* is saying you love her. ******* is saying you love me. ******* is that heart-shaped bruise that you left on my wrist, that tuesday night you ***** me and called it love. ******* is telling me i am not her.



this disposition of 'her', the realisation she plays a better 'her', than i play 'her', the realisation that she stole 'her' from me, when'her' was a dream both of us  could hope to fake.



iii.


why people are kept broken:

you once told me, while ashing out a cigarette on my neck,
*"it is better to stay broken so nothing else can ever break you again."

my mom told me i look homeless

i told her i was