My life is like quicksand,
I continuously sink slowly,
Kick and drag myself up high enough just to gulp at air.
Then follows the slow descent.
I'm unsure of what's at the bottom
But my toes have tickled it a few times
Then the beast bellows and laughs,
Sending tsunami waves through the sand;
I roll like a ship about to be taken under by fierce swell.

Sometimes I think the quicksand is encased in my skull...
Sometimes I think the depths of the quicksand settle on the top of my spinal cord.
Sometimes I think I'm numb from the corrosive vibrations of the sludgy water-sand mix:
Jamming my nervous system, rusting it over.

But then the memory of pressure of your hand around my neck
Makes me forget the metaphor of the sand
And the make-believe depression.
And the blood in my nose, that drips and drys and repeats itself daily
Exists because you forced my head against the wall so many times.
Razors are not a comfort they are a fear and I still cough them up from my lungs.

I realise you are not terrifying
I realise that you do not own my life
You do not decide that I am real or fake or suffering.
I realise that you are only a scar
That I am slathering oils and remedies over
In order to make the red fade.
I realise that I am so *******
H A P P Y

One year on;
And I have overcome your disease,
Dislodged your putrid fangs,
Rebuilt myself,
Healed, cured myself...
Found a real person
Who knows how to love me
And teach me to love me.

Muse bares its teeth, snarls, snaps, rips the head back…
Chewing through the spinal cord and lapping up the brain fluid.
An image not so commonly played in the desert mind, riddled with mirages.
Empty and lost searching for new meat, left starving and dishevelled,
There is nothing new here, battling with the repetitive beat of ancient drums;
Beats making no sound, only vibrations that rattle the ribcage dripping rotten flesh.

I retch, I retch and I retch and retch and I cannot dislodge the salt of your sweat on my neck. Like a curse, it has rooted its way into my pores and poisoned my veins. The searing pain of stomach acid in my mouth

Welcome mad scientists, friends, lovers with dismembered heartstrings, ghosts, rain drops, dreamt-up-star-children and perhaps child geniuses.
This is chaos.
My soul has been observing people for centuries.
I am an empath.

I am quivering
With fear
At the little lumps
That have appeared.

And I am terrified
Of rhyming.

Death; will have us beautifully
Rotting, morphing, transforming
Into a dripping, bloodless
Enemy of life.
I've never been afraid of feeding worms
Only holding their slime encased bodies
Out of the sheer thought of hurting their
Extravagant ability to care for the earth...

A trait humans don't feel in their fingernails.

I might lose my hair
But I've been collecting dress-up wigs
Since I was a baby girl playing dolly,
Dressing as the fairy queen princess who ruled the world.
I might lose my hair,
But I'm afraid of fighting this alone.
Solitude was the perfect cup of warm tea
And a fluffy blanket on a stormy day...
and now...
And now it has me shivering out of my skin.

I have transformed since our last
Conversation.
I have grown this ever brightening light
And I am learning so much about me...
Too much perhaps...
Too much and not enough about
These two little lumps.