The closet in the dim isolated room
Stores away so many of my bones
That store too many secrets for the
Weak hearted,
So each week I’m parted from demons
That are a part of too much of me.

But I can never see the difference, my two sides won’t show it.
It does so little to comfort me; what have I become?
Am I the walking dead and a watcher of the funeral of my smiles,
Whose continuous lives and illness discomfort and confuse all?
Am I fast asleep when dreams of a peaceful life take over?
Because I awake to find that I’m too stripped back and empty to find anything to give,
A signal I care, or knowing something has shifted
A tectonic plate in my brain,
Erupting the series of footsteps to the door
Of the insane, knocking furiously enough to break it.

The desperate pull of the veil over my mind
Disguises it as curtains for a show, a grand act.
I am the star of the leading role, too centred, too vain,
Perfect to match the unmatched mess I feel every day.
The genius illusion is that am I really acting?
Even I do not know.
The stage is my war zone; no man’s land,
Because I am obviously not human,
And I cannot let anyone else in.
It's bad comedy of a pathetic attempt at drama
For anyone willing to tolerate my oh so called woes.
I choke on the mixture of laughter and tears
I collect in a cracking overflowing jar and drink,
Getting intoxicated on my pity, and hazy on the self-mocking,
Gurgling manipulations of sharing the side dish
But also shoving away any takers.
I am greedy - I want it all to myself.

And to myself it shall remain.
I buy all the tickets and keep them to remind myself
How my dim isolated room shrinks with each entry,
How I refuse to give out any more keys.
Maybe the walking dead is what I am;
Surely life is not this lightless when it is lived.
At least I hope not.

would it help with explaining
how life has closed in all the ***** of its metal box
around me?

it's a
pair of headphones with only one working side,
the last needed puzzle piece that is missing,
and no matching pair of socks.

it's a
string too short to tie a perfect bow with,
not enough water to fill the whole of the glass
and hidden holes in a blanket to keep you cold.

so does that help explaining how life throws
its ten pound shadow
over me?

I'd like to dissolve in legends and myths,
Including the cosmic swirl within.
My fingertips, with light they rage,
I spin the planets at a steady pace,
My skies a canvas of gleaming futures and hopes.
I am mystery, I am beautiful;
No tearing comet will brings me tears,
And I know many things without the existence of fear.

But,
This is all I know:
I know this is a tale.
I am devoid but of a void,
An empty black hole
******* up all that shines.
The stars are dying and burning up early
And the world, I cannot control.

Because my sun's days end too soon
And quickly sets to rise the moon,
And the golden rays meet their doom.
The universe is not mine to keep.
It is merely there to show me all
I cannot do.

I must confess, I'm a mess,
the contents of my mind too dark to address,
my tears at such subjects too big to suppress.
But you declare your love unconditional?
You may find, without much surprise,
that's near impossible.

Though, if a stroke of luck is discovered,
it will be unconditional under the conditions of staying clear
of disturbing subjects which result in tears,
triggers the mess of expected fears.
These conditions are a hard enough mission,
best to stay clear of me entirely.

It's clear that I am insufferable.
So please, do reread the warnings label
and proceed with caution and protective gear,
and don't be too surprised if you find yourself wondering
why you're still here.

1;
i'm not a thief, but i kept your favourite baby blue scarf in the second drawer of my bedside table. it still has that hole near the bottom when you frantically tore on your scarf because it started snowing and you wanted to go out and play.

2;
do you remember that night? i do. flakes of snow were floating into place like a crown upon your hair. i told you the heavens were filled with envy after we made snow angels, and you just smiled. and even through all that thick snow our hands met and a warmness no fireplace could beat filled my insides. it felt like home.

3;
lots of things felt like home. i could look into your eyes and know i lived in each galaxy they held. i could bury my nose into every sweater you have ever worn and name all the cookies they smelt of. i could hide under your sheets and in your arms like a childhood game with the couch, only i didn't need to have rules or a time out; time was a fragment of an unneeded past with you. a needed future.

4;
now this time the past is needed. regrets cramp my chest and texts you'll never read sit weighing with glue on my phone. it still has the case you brought me of the cat with yarn. i hope you can see it on the table as you set your cup of tea down. set your head down. the scream of silence fills every corner of the room.

5;
a few sips left. time is catching up and sneaking out from under the table, disobeying the game's rules. it is swallowing up the tea for you too quick and i wish my mind could keep up. words are clogging up my throat like a drainpipe refusing to spill.

6;
i want you to spill your tea over. apologise endlessly like you do. i'll clean it up and buy us more time. but the coins are scattered and few in my pockets and weigh a ton each for all the plans they can't take. please say something.

7;
say something, i used to say, urging to hear beautiful french words come from your lips. you'd giggle and push me flustered into the couch with your striped maroon socks. i wonder if you're wearing them right now. i wonder if you're wearing a smile too worn and frayed to button up all the things left to say right now.

8;
your tea is gone. there is nothing left to say. i wish there was; some dramatic realisation of a way to make things work again, because they cannot, and we know that. and the front door is getting closer and goodbyes are being said and i am getting desperate. tell me there is another feeling, something else. i want to unlearn knowing all has been done. i want to forget to remember. i want your car to break down as soon as you start it.

9;
because i know our mixtape will begin when your drive, but it's okay because i have another copy right here, above the radio. stay. let's listen to it. stay. please, at least one last kiss. stay. i need you. stay. we will miss out on things time set up for us. stay. i know snow angels aren't meant to last but all this time we were sunshine on backyard swings and you were my home. i still call you my home. i still call you.

10;
because without you i am homeless. i need a place to stay.

so stay.