With delicate, yet awkward, fingers
I edge my way down my throat
And loosen the cut you made on my neck.
Nails crawl through my flesh
until I hear the strum of my failing violin, cat gut, vocal chords.
An ear drum bursting TWANG;
Reminiscent of the s c r e a m s
You forced from my bones.

My body twists around the thought of your
Gaze pounding down my spine.
You’ve buried your way into my skin,
A burdensome parasite I can’t shake, or dig out.
Despite the number of nails I break
And bones I dislocate.

Maybe I’m just empty space...
Crawling... dissipating.
Sinking into this nameless,
Faceless, loveless,
Human afterthought.

You and I.
You. And I am damaged.
I’ll rip myself apart and scrape the dust together,
Maybe I’ll build myself from the ashes...
Or maybe the wind will tear through this canyon again.
I live in a depth you don’t want to understand.
You and I.
You.
You don’t say you love me anymore.

Positive thoughts are packaged with depressing discouraging chants in a plastic punnet.
I don’t know how to cope with that...
So to satisfy the thirst of my ever dangling drought of accomplishment,
I jam the thoughts in a blender on top speed.
Wait for the deafening swirl of the blades to stop,
And I lap up the monotonously foul “you are going no where’s”
With the chewy chunks of “you got out of bed, welldone’s”,
Slump back into a rotting pine chair,
And I glide through the emptiness.

You never made me happy.
Though you heard me say it, you never made me happy; not once... not ever.
Instead what you heard was falsities...
A lie, a mask, a good ******* play at ‘happy families’.
You never made me happy.
I lived in a bubble of illness and not the kind I could see a doctor for.  
I painted masks across my face for you, sung a sweet lullaby of ‘I’m peaceful in this second’.
But in that second you were suffocating me, boxing me, moulding me, caging, controlling,
Ensuring I wouldn’t leave.
An exuberant ‘I’m happy’ should’ve translated more appropriately to ‘I want to die and be reborn’.
You made me sick and I wanted to die.

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.

I.
I sat in bed
With my monsters
Conversing about
Their favourite
Taunts in my head.
We play at the
Bottom of a lake
Making lists of
All the ways I'm
Going to drown.

I had a dream last night,
You were there but without a face like usual.
We stood atop a cliff,
I stood too close to the edge like usual.
I recall a deafening silence bouncing off the waves.
You couldn't hear them bash against the rocks.
I turned my back upon the sun,
Setting deep into its routine slumber.
I faced your faceless face and I spoke softly,
Loud enough to break apart the silence;
Like great claps of thunder,
'Tell Mum I fell'.
You didn't flinch when
I stepped backwards;
2 steps too far.

Oh god...
                            You make me want
                                 To die.
             I want to destroy the world around me
             And find comfort in the pain.
             I need you to rip my lungs out
             And give me hell.
             I'm getting bad again,
             Yet all I can think about is
             Keeping your head above water.
             I yearn for the burn of a
             Rusty blade making
             Metallic love to my cursed skin.

I.
You seem so... pertrified
Quivering in familiar surroundings.
Spinning; you fall unaware
Of your lungs collapsing.
I hear the bells chime...
I know it's the end.

II.
This was never your fault.

III.
Sitting stagnant deep
Within the volcano's heart,
Keeping a sacred soul rhythm,
Clutching starving hands;
My breath strangling their lungs.
As I erupt
I wonder how many
Souls I break
With the tree roots I rip from underneath them.
I wonder how much suffering
Triggers a beautiful
R E B I R T H.

IV.
I don't have a pulse.

V.
A silence sits inside my pressurized skull,
So loud and so deafening that the monsters
Dwelling in my ears cannot hear the world scream.

VI.
I mourn the death of things
Before they are lost.
I've built gravestones for relationships
Prior to them having the slightest itch to melt away.
Rigor Mortis settles into my heart
I sit frozen and stiffened
Waiting for a world around me to deteriorate.
I anticipate the last breath to escape our lungs
With a whisper of "goodbye".

VII.
I have pulled myself apart to put you back together.

I.
Potent; iridescent and
Dripping.
Muffled like the white noise
Of a radio warning broadcast,
On repeat...
30 years after nuclear WAR.

II.
So beautiful;
Other worldly and distorted.
I am fascinated;
Drawn to you as if
A moth to a flame.

III.
This is merely a reflection.
Swinging back and forth,
Hypnotic.
I am coming undone
Dragging my chained brain around.

IV.
How dusty, how dark,
How disheartening?
Like concrete shoes,
My brain sinks
In a vast and vicious
NOTHINGNESS.

I.
You are my shipwreck,
I am your siren,
It's an uneasy game I play
Dragging you down to the depths...
Dragging you down to your death.

II.
I always get lost
Looking for something to open my eyes;
I've never really been awake.

III.
Swearing to hurt anyone
Who
Tries to **** me...
Do those same rules apply
When I try to **** myself
In your ******* black hole eyes.

IV.
The galaxy has been filling me
For years and you find
Beauty in my stone cold shell encasing.

V.
Maybe we should wait and see.

VI.
"Give me time."

VII.
I hope your favourite sound
Is the dah-dum
Of my heart beat drum...

VIII.
I love you.

"Define happiness"
I left the page blotted with ink,
Obscure shapes and a vivid mental image
Of your beautiful face.

"De-def-de-de-Define h-h-happ-iness"
I scratched the self help CD
you left on the bench as I cried myself to sleep that night;
A year ago.
It came with a book
But I burnt it after I threw my glass of ***** at the wall.

Your face burns my mind
Like the bitter way you were scared to kiss my tongue.

You weren't sick but you were tired.
And how could I blame you for not being able to fix me?
Was I ever really broken?

"D-d-d h-h-h-ness"
I remember the first time I met you,
The first time you spoke my name, you choked.
I still feel the first kiss on the back of my throat like
A bad after taste I can't drown.
The first night I saw you naked;
I had cried into your shirt only an hour before.
I have never seen skin shine like yours does.
Emitting a ray of blood curdling beauty.

The thought makes me sick
But do you think you could
Come over for a while...
Get drunk like we used to
And forget what happiness is?

Insanity is such a playful word
I want to extract each of your teeth
To play the most iconic drum beats of all time.
Make snarled rhythm out of your body
One.    Last.    Time.
Underneath the howling moonlight
We made love to.  
And you sat shivering.
Insanity holds such ambiguity that it's ready to burst.
So intense as it sits stinging you like bees
Watching you H. U. R. T.
Or leaving you laughing at strange.

I guess what we have is insanity
That it is driving me off the edge
And keeping me together all the same.

I want to break these dice,
There's not chances anymore;
Only the restful slumber of drowning.
I'm not going swimming
But my own ******* heartache is swallowing me
Whole; and I am not whole.
Not now, not anymore.

And you still love me,
You haven't even left
And that's an admirable thing
Because I'm ******* nuts
And I'm thankful.

This distance is forever widening
Giving birth to more space between us
Weakening the strands of a paper thin
Tight rope we situated our love on.
About to snap and you don't feel a thing.
Your love has changed;

I.
People leave huge
Holes in your spine.

II.
But flowers die,
Crumbling deaths,
For one heartwarming
Moment.

III.
An empty skull;
Suffocating... thoughtless breaths.
Trembling feet as I walk among the dead,
Are you afraid?

IV.
I'm afraid.

V.
"Unattainable"
What a throne I slouch upon.

Do I or don't I?
It's a double edged sword
And I'm cutting myself with both sides.
It's a comfortable torture,
Which is horrifying in itself.
Tonight I dance with self inflicted silence
Again; and I forget to breathe.
Every second petal fell...
Screaming
HE
      LOVES
                   YOU
                           NOT.
Where do I fall from here?
Memories rush of times when I let blood dry
Night after night again on my thigh.
He was there, but what constellation do I call home now?

You are my home, my heart and the stars.
What have I done?
It feels cold; so cold and the air is fragile
When you're silent.
But my flat lining heart isn't as quiet as I'd like.

I'm so homesick
But I'm home...
I'm not living, not alive
Just waiting to petrify.
Solidify and one day melt
Into your arms again.

You are my home
And you are so far away.

I find that ribs aren't broken by force,
The snap comes from initial shock
Of razor sharp silence.
Churning and grinding usually occurs as time rotates past
Like the wheels of a car that you hope to god would hit you.
Eventually, you realise that your ribcage implodes due to heartache
And the hearts desire to destroy itself
Before he, or anyone else, can.
It's a funny game of Russian roulette you play with people.
That one bullet in the revolver...
That one glimpse of a "maybe";
Maybe, maybe this one will be the one to stay.
And as waves pound the shore for forgiveness
You torture yourself with the thought
Of finally letting go of solitude.
Not before the silences consume every brain pulse;
Harder to digest than constant rumbling of crowds.

These four walls don't recognise me anymore,
And lately I've been waking up cold.
Where the distance sways... I falter.
It's so dizzying keeping up
With a universe whose heart is beating
Too fast.
There are days where I forget
That the blood in my veins is mine.
Hallucinations of opaque canvases
Dappled with a hundred strokes of paint.
The blood in my veins isn't blood at all...
When did it all become pain...t.
I regularly dissect the chambers of my heart,
Mental images of ripping apart the last thing I stood for;
A solitary beat that was never meant to be heard.

Maybe I'm ready for the end of the world
Or maybe I'm just impatient.
Today was supposed to signify a magnitude of things;
Mostly our love.
But the suns dancing overshadows what should've been.
I'm waiting for it to be cold again
To once more reflect unshattering icicles
Replacing my heart.
I'm too tired and you're too far away.
This is a waiting game
And I am losing.

I'd describe it as turbulent beyond silence, an unedited, untouched sequence that spills like blood from the pen.
Unintentional wounds to minds as feelings are played with like Barbie dolls in a 5 year olds prime.
Unrelenting and unpredictive thoughts lash out viciously in sweet melodic pulses.
Da DUM   .   .   .   DA BURST
Who is really the first to drown?
The living or the sea?
Deeper down and disturbingly fluent; the wash of words become clearer, stuttering.
You forget what really needs to be learnt once you start learning.
So much becomes lost the moment you are influenced.
But who writes the rule books on which rhythms take control?
Easily said but not easily discussed.
Choked by a thousand thoughts a minute, we lose track.
Healthy are those un brainwashed and remaining at 68% anarchist, still refusing pollutants fed straight into our veins.
4 jabs a day is the recommended dosage.
Desensitisers, artificial frontal lobotomy replacements, constant comatose states; you breathe for yourself but who thinks for you?
Whose mind do you have?

"I hope you have a lovely new year and that you have many happy New Years to come. I also hope that your years are as good as mine were"

I'd like to be able to write again, but the universe is turning too slow in the wrong direction.
My heart drips instead of duh-dums
And my breath slips.

Rhyming sticks to the top of my mouth catching grains of rhythm as I regurgitate yesterday's thoughts.

I haven't been able to write lately, not because I am a bumbling busy body, but because time is frozen, I'm cemented and dissolving into the tasteless air.
Everything is too colourful lately, too... anything for me to understand.

Maybe I should start reading again, go back to painting stale blue skeleton hands with not enough paint.

Maybe that's my problem... There's not enough paint in my life.

Whose gun is at your head?
Tomorrow I graduate,
And feast on my heart; they're giving it back.
Only small parts though...
Freedom is not exactly free.

As I tick through a day that doesn't feel
     R. E. A. L.
I'll remember a time when eating clocks
Was a delight
And night never came
Because time never sung.

But what will tomorrow bring?
The final burst of detrimental metaphors and acidic teachers egos,
Who depend on a pay package
"Not enough" for their knowledge.
They should've stayed human.

I wince as the cogs twist
And an ever continuing robotic system
Chomps down on thousands of more souls.

And I beg for new a freedom.

Whose gun is at your head?

I have more than just flames,
Flickering on the tips of my fingers;
Underneath and above the edge of the world
I will dance, similar to the way wind creates wars between the leaves.
A melancholy dawn to new days; and the fear of uncertainty
Rumbles through you, shattering all your teeth.
I will pour you another cup of tea,
From my psychedelic purple cat face teapot containing a stopped clock,
We will sit silently on the brink of disaster
As we always have... and something beneath us will laugh.

Limp, lifeless and longingly dry.
Like the packet of crumpets I lost to mould last week
The rot finds it place under my tongue.
I toy with ideas that maybe anger
Is the reason waves erode sandbanks
And the turbulent wind is why walls like us crumble...

T   U   R   B   U   L   A   N   C   E

The ambiguity of what happens now rings loud and clear
As another fear added to a never ending list.
Professionals would have a field day and a whole new genre within me.
But that's conformity.

The cavern with which my mind resides is dark
Chaotic and violent to say the least.
Self preservation is a fantasised option only present in the books
Surfing the stale wind inside my mind.

If you wanted normality it's taken you two years to undiscover it.

I'll beg each and every second for you to never leave the park bench
That sits across from me staring at everything behind.
I'd give all my soul, dreams and whatever hopes I think I have
To know that you're going to stay in my mind with me forever.

I'd give my heart just to know that you'll stay mine forever.

I had never thought about little things until now, until I had become displaced and detached. Little things like the scratch of grass against bare feet and the little crunch noise that undoubtedly breaks the blades of grass... But natures green carpet always bounces back immediately. Perhaps the noise of tree branches, being tangled, tortured and embraced by strong southerly winds in the middle of a steaming hot summer, should have held more importance to me back home. The art of appreciation and great-fullness  is so easily lost amongst the concepts of time, greed and the incomprehensible human need to succeed.

I could sculpt the same 26 letters
Into a thousand different formations
And it still wouldn't be enough for you.

Unknowing of my, little but still existing, greatness;
You rip apart my limbs,
Dismember my colourful insides
(As I'm trying to paint you picturesque landscapes)
And replace them with fear...

And your control over me still isn't enough for you.

A lot of pain lately, a lot of second guessing.
Tossing and turning; picking my skull into tiny little pieces.
You've devised a grand master plan
Of bright lights, excitement and satisfaction of your seemly, as seen through a lovers eye, insane dreams.
But where do I fit into all of this?

Our lives are moving at the speed of light,
weaving our veins together in such symmetry
that it reflects rain like a window,
we become one and find our feet to rule

It's time for me to find creativity and feeling again.
I'll start with the sky where you and I met.
Stars are all we have left.

I fall in love with concepts of the simplest human movements.
I find my sense of purification and healing in the way you close your eyes,
No different to any other person.
A powerful burst of anger overwhelms me as you clench your fist around air.
The way you walk brings fear...

Are you staying or going?

7 months,
    $400
         And a 1,178km medicinal trip
         To a freedom unbeknown
         And untasted by these eyes
         I am so ready, but is my life?

8 weeks,
              10 tests, doused in falsities that kidnap the education system,
              3 months and I am done,
             Finished and fully educated to their standard.
             So close and yet so far,
             I haven't learnt a thing.

Never, not once, in my life
Or past lives, even past centuries,
Have I been a formula.
I dance in the eyes of needles
And underneath the skin of skinless beasts.
I sing with my fingers,
Around (your throat) the pen
And I smile with a thousand hearts in my eyes.

I have never been the essential equations,
Numbers, measurements and shapes
That glue together formulas.

I am not normality that you can bottle,
I was born to drown in the sky.

The sun folds into the moon and dances new light on forgotten grounds, these grounds grow and tend to hearts like yours; rare and beautiful. I'd say it's a garden but it's not really, you are a swimming pool and I'd happily drown amongst your stars... I already have.

As it continues to grow darker,
My lungs continue to morph or dry out.

Air.
Is it a saviour or suffocation?

Carry me to the edge of the world
I want to see colours as I fade.
Shake me free of all the shackles
As you leave me behind...
Shake me free of all this wisdom;
The torments of my mind.
Carry me, as I breathe heavily,
To the edge of the world...
Carry me; I want to die.

I lay on my back, absorbing the pressures
Of the rocks beneath me, I breathe.
Eyelids resting on now blind eyes, I feel.
I stretch out as high as possible and hold it...
Allowing each fingertip to tingle, arms fall.
A rush of blood and my eyes snap open,
I see colours never known to man,
Unpaintable by all extremes.
Now, I sit cross-legged
Rocking as the wind sways.
The small clearing expands, opening up,
I see more now than two 1800's explorers
Ever did as they searched the world for forgiveness.
Looking up, it has grown dark
A deep blue, a deep grey.
It proceeds to rain, closing my eyes,
I open my mouth as if to speak...
The taste of wilderness rushes in.
Heavier, precipitation grows,
Heavier and birds begin to scream,
Landing at my sides, eyelids open...
I remain still. Screaming songs so intense,
The birds, they start to dance.
A pair with the tango,
Three with the jive,
I smile... I'm alive.
Beckoning me to join...
We danced all night.

I couldn't rush any quicker
Than to taste something
More bitter than your soul.
And swearing on improper nouns
I told myself to never look
Directly at your heart...

I did; you turned to stone.

How ironic it is
That we mutilate this earth
With the very substances
That bind it.

And how humorous we are
That we think
We can save ourselves
From us.