I see my timeline on this site:

2014
From my older brother's diagnosis
to the death of my grandmother

2015
Falling in love with you
My brother disappearing

2017
To the breaking of trust in exchange of fluids
Never receiving what the law calls justice

2018
Realizing you were never my first love
Merely my first attachment

But I never wrote about finding my brother
dead
in the woods near the main road
white bones in a tent
not knowing who it was
only realizing after the police left my mother crying
for him
dying there alone in the woods so close to home

I cry for him
dying there alone.
Hidden by the wilderness
rotting away inside the plastic tarp.

I cried for him
and wrote for you.
This timeline is my reminder
holding my guilty conscience accountable.

He was not good company in my despair.
But he was company and he was the only company I had.
I share that night with him.
Only him.

We were the only two that breathed oxygen from the air I screamed in.
The only two who felt the blows exchanged by fists.
We were the only two who shared that time and space.
No matter who and how many people I tell my story,
he will still be the only one who was actually there.

We are connected.
We are connected and I don't know how to free myself from these memories.
Free myself from this Hell.

I do not miss him. Nor do I miss myself as a victim.
I'm neither suffering nor melancholic.
Nothing pulls me back.
Nothing at all, except that I was whole.
Maybe I was a victim, but at least I was something.
Maybe it was painful, but at least I felt something.

Would you believe me to be death?
I guess it makes sense
For this reality, truly is hell

But I am a cheater of death
So here I stand;
Amidst the stink of burning corpses,
Dead eyes of starring, children and women,
Alive.
Oh, but how I wish I was dead.

Now, 80 years after,
The smell of burned carcass,
Still clings to everything I touch

I needed pity,
but the only thing you could give me
was a solution
a smile, a laugh and
ridiculous facts about blood flow.
The best medication for a suffering soul.

You kissed me, while there were still crumbs on my lips
The sweetness of the chocolate mixed with you
We laughed and kissed and loved
In a way that filled me with hope
I fell asleep to the sound
of your heartbeat
But when I woke,
No trace of you was left
All there lay, was a broken cookie
I dropped, to taste your sweetness

I am not really afraid of death
I am sure he is a nice fellow
I hope so,
since no one’s returned

I wonder what it is like to be you
With so much self-control,
You stop eating
With so few thoughts regarding the future,
You cut till' you bleed
With so few fears,
That they fill your entire life
 
I wonder what it is like to be you
With so much discipline,
You are pretty every single day
With so few thoughts regarding the future,
You constantly live in the world of now
With so few fears,
You can sweep them under the rug

I wonder what it is like to be me,
With so little self-control,
I let you slip through my fingers,
With so many thoughts about the future,
I can not be anything in the present,
With so many fears
I dare not act.

Life: Noun: Uncountable: Plural: Lives
The ability to have: Abilities
Period of time filled with: Adjectives
With many opportunities to seize

Life as punishment: Contract/prison/love
Life as enjoyment: Contact/comfort/love
Love: Meaning: Affection. Also used above
Love: For idiom see also: Turtledove

Life: Antonym: Death: What comes after life
The leading cause of death on Earth: Neglect
Example: None cared the child had a knife
The leading cause of life on Earth: V-necks

Cheat: Suicide: Lessons on life not learned
Antidote: No cure has yet been confirmed

I feel alive
And calm
And collected
And in control

I really am, a terrible liar

A girl with arms and legs
A brain
A liver
A heart
 
A broken one
The liver I mean,
Not the heart!
Lost, but never in-pieces
 
She doesn't personally own one,
Or she does, it was stolen you see
The one she has now, she loaned
Just until she finds her own!
 
Though the time she uses to pay back her loan
Is time away from finding the stolen core
She pays through her liver
And her innocence
 
Speculating where her heart actually went
She gradually rewinds her life
To see when it disappeared
 
Maybe it was beaten out of her by her father,
Or flushed out when she put her finger in her throat.
Maybe she left it with her virginity,
Or she threw it away with her dignity?

I will go to the worst of bars,
Share a drink with memories
Take shots with anxiety
Pick a fight with clarity
Get kicked out with hangovers.

Someone call out to him
Before he does something senseless

Someone call out to him*
Because I won't

I dream of dead people
Of maltractated bodies from the movies
Of grandmother
Of horses with their guts cut open

They are never frightening
Never more or never less
The most terrifying in my dreams
Is the manager I work for

He is schizophrenic
Like my Brother
Has black hair
And piercing eyes
Like my Brother

Sometimes I wake up
Wanting to be dead
I'd rather be a good dream
With paper thin skin
And loving hands

Than a living nightmare
With black hair
And penetrating eyes

**So I search for death

They said, I should pretend that she was sleeping
That dying wasn't so bad
And I should have faith,
Hope,
That she would wake up
To cradle me in her arms again

But she didn't.
The tubes crawling under her skin
Only grew in numbers.

This would be her fight
Struggling by herself
Her foes outnumbering her
Slithering down her throat
Suffocating her,
They make her breathe
Gliding under her soft skin,
They are nourishing her

They are inside of her!

She looks like life has almost left her,
And now, the snakes **** out the last of all that is her
Her warmth
Her softness
Her plumpness
They say it isn’t so
But I am not blind

They say, it might not be too late,
But only Rigor Mortis is late
Nonetheless, he will come
Along with his hooded brother
Just because her limbs are not stiff
Does not mean she hasn’t passed *limbo

They say, it might not be too late,
But only Rigor Mortis is late
Nonetheless, he will come
Along with his hooded brother
Just because her limbs are not stiff
Does not mean she hasn’t passed limbo

Once upon a time
There was a couple who loved each other dearly

**This is not their story

A life is made of moments
Of both good and bad
 
In your present,
On your lips

All our conversations linger

You will not look at me.

Not even look at the brave face I practiced
Not look at the smile I painted
Not at the dry eyes I skillfully mastered

This mask I made for you to see
But still, you will not look at me
As if my fakeness, will mutilate the image you have of me

*I can tell you, it will.

The world I live in now
With you
Will be the world I live in for the rest of my life*

And then I woke up to reality.

I feel the summer
The heat
The UV
The flies

I see you in your bathing suit
and I fall in love

A great amount is said about lies
We are all liars
On purpose or not, they often fly
You cannot even detect it in our eyes
 
Only liars know when being lied to
We do not want to admit it
But in our mouth, there is still a residue
All we are, are hypocrites
 
So don’t you to lie to me
I am a hypocrite
I create debris
So just you admit

*You lie too

Gentle kisses
Soft-spoken words
A dream, like a whisper, fades and disappears
Your hunger for me dissolves
The memory endures

Sometimes I’m afraid of being sick
Afraid that what I am has a name
Afraid that I helped create a term  
 
Sometimes I feel it
Feel the me that decays
Feel the heart that pumps the rot around
 
Sometimes I wonder if my decomposition can slow
Wonder if my blood needs thinning
Wonder if  I need a leech so as not to rot
 
Sometimes I feel
Sometimes I wonder
Then I remember that this sometimes does not matter
 
Because death is certainly permanent