It's not your back that hurts, but the burden.

It's not your eyes that hurt, but injustice.

It's not your head that hurts, it's your thoughts.

Not the throat, but what you don't express or say with anger.

Not the stomach that hurts, but what the soul does not digest.

It's not the liver that hurts, it's the anger.

It's not your heart that hurts, but love.

And it is love itself that contains the most powerful medicine.

- Unknown Author

The moon is full tonight.
I can feel it's pull.

The cat stares at me.
Her eyes seem to suggest she knows what is on my mind.

As I gaze up into the mysterious sky,
The familiar taste of salt trickles into the corners of my lips.

I can feel a tug of my emotions,
Like the moon somehow has a role in the pull of my interstitial fluid.

It is basically sea water,
Right?

The black cat loiters a certain superstition within.
Fear becomes instilled as she stares into my soul with her all knowing glare.

"Blame it on the moon, blame it on the moon.
Tides come and go, so this shall too"

I strive to find the comfort this world has to offer me
Some say it comes from within, this I am not sure of.

The thoughts linger. The cat knows, I know she knows.
What does she make of me in this incapacitated state?

I taste the salt. It is drawn out by the moon.
That is what I tell myself.

Deep down I know the salt is due to the overwhelming grief I try to deny.

And the cat is merely the internalized self stigma eating away at my self esteem and efficacy.

It started with a kiss
Hand in sand
He swept me into the mist
That wasn't the plan

The music rang through both our ears

Playing & playing
Delaying, delaying.

What was this
Not dominance
But a mutual self-inflicted full oneness
Acting out not a doubt
Gain some control
While the body suffices & one feels whole.

Wholeness or numbness one will never know

Whilst playing & playing
Delaying, delaying

The inevitable

The womb in my view is the most emotively eloquent aspect of a woman.
I believe the womb is the source of unlocking true love.

For when a woman gifts her womb to a man, it is then that she learns to love unconditionally.
Before this ability is unlocked, she will never know.

Personally, I have wholeheartedly devoted my womb to one man on two occasions.
This is the man I plan to marry.
This is the man I released my soul unto.

This.

Is the man.

During the first occasion is when I learned what true love felt like, from within my soul.
There was no other person on this earth to which I had devoted my entirety to.
I felt the flow of my energy intertwine with his as together we combined to form the ultimate gift of life.
There was something incredibly compelling when our two souls became one, forever coupled.

The second time I relinquished my womb it did not go as planned.
There was still true love involved, however this time I believe a tragedy was required in order for emotions to flow freely between two souls.
There was a blockage between the two, built from the pain of time and the ease that distance can entail.
However, together, two were able to accept this blockage and work on letting love flow, for love is what heals pain in my view.

More time passed
Along with this time came strength, autonomy, and independence
All still within the unity that was.

The bond was unbreakable.

Was.

Perception is a strange phenomena.
Our thoughts.
Feelings.
Ideas.
Interpretations.
They are all determined by us.
I'm not sure exactly what causes someone's sense of perception to be warped.
All I know is mine seems to be so.
Some have stated they believe me to be an intelligent articulate individual.
However when it comes to common perceptual sense, I have none.

How does one train their perception?
Is anyone really in control of the way they interpret?
Lost.
Continually lost.
Taken the wrong way.
Offending those without realising.
Socially inept.
Yet still possessing the empathy and ability to connect with all kinds of people.
Is there a simple solution to figuring myself out?
Or am I simply on a wild monkey hunt with no end in sight?

i do my thing
and you do your thing

i am not in this world to live up to your expectations
and you are not in this world to live up to mine

you are you
and i am i

and if by chance we find each other

it's beautiful

They say life is a highway, I say it’s a battle.
I love to drive yet not one ounce of my being wishes to drive upon this highway any longer.
Battles tend to be fought with an army, yet here I stand alone.
Why do they force their essence into my being.
Why do they require physicality from me.
This is not something I wish to give.
Leave me be, and my body too.
The last thing I want is to smell your scent in through my skin.
I do not wish to taste the bitterness of your personality that you feel so kindly to force me to do.
If you want me to drive, let me drive.
But I refuse to drive anywhere near the highway which you built.
That highway is not made for my kind.
That highway is what turns beautiful souls into broken ones.
The filth in my bones is seeping out, overflowing into the street.
I try to wash this filth away.
Eye’s closed.
I do not wish to see this filth.
Just let it be gone already.
I am sick of fighting this battle.
I have had enough of fighting.
You have succeeding in consuming my entire being with the filth you forced upon me.
Buried deep.
So deep.
I never knew the deepness of myself, let alone the depths of my despair.
I never chose this.
Why should I have to live this.
Why should I have to keep my head up and carry on.
How does your head hang?
Between the ties of a noose?
It should.
Worthless.
Powerless.
Disgusting.
Damaged.
Numb.
That is what I feel.
Yet in reality it is what you are.
I know you don’t have power over me.
All this time I have been fighting.
This battle does not deserve to be fought.
You cannot hurt me.
I refuse to let the gravel of your highway slow me down or make me crash.
I will not crash.
Not for you, not for anyone.
It is my time to grasp the wheel.
I control my own vehicle, not you.
I will not allow you to climb into the driver’s seat.
You will not place your hands on, or anywhere near, my steering wheel.
The vehicle may seem broken, but it is not.
It just needed some TLC.
Push me again, I dare you.
Watch yourself be ran the **** over.
I will not wait.
I will not spare you.

Wild flowers in her soul, she refuses to trim them or let them show.
Moonlight seeping from her pores she holds the ability of being able to light up the darkest of nights.
She shines her light on all other gardens as an attempt to teach them the way to self-blossom.
Although not always successful with this transfer of energy she sometimes finds herself on the dark side of the moon; of herself.
To the darkness there is also depth, and without this depth she would be unable to share her strength through her glow.
This depth consists of all the weeds she has had to grow through and amongst, all the while encouraging them too to blossom.
This moon continues to shine, even when she herself is feeling blue, for what is the night without her?

What is fair?
It is a simple question.
I never really knew what was fair and what wasn't.

Do what you are told.

As a child one continues on, no matter the circumstances.
Do they question the fairness of what they're exposed?

No.

It is only upon reflection that one feels the indignation that they endured.
More often than not, the suffering at the hands of another.

Is this fair?

Pent up anger, so suppressed it causes physical disease.
Passive annoyance, felt, but never spoken.

What is one to do when this is their reality?

How can one unleash the pain of indignation?

Who determines what is fair and unjust?

These are questions which are difficult to answer, therefore, remain rhetorical.

For sometimes an answer in the spoken form, is never enough.
Nor is an apology.

I am me.
I dislike blonde men with ****** hair.
However, I like Kurt Cobain from nirvana.
I also like allowing the rain to wash over me once in a while.
I have experienced pain.
Also heartbreak.
I thought I knew love.
I also thought I knew myself.
This I am attempting to figure out.
Depression.
It's real.
I felt it hit my soul.
I over achieve in most things I attempt.
Yet nothing is ever good enough.
No amount of external praise lifts my spirits.
Internal praise does not exist.
I consider myself bold.
Honest.
Blunt even.
I also consider myself mental.
Ugly.
Impatient.
These are a few of what makes me who I am.
Who would I be without the name I was designated?
Would the previous words define me?

She does not know who she is
Only who they are

She does not understand her own weaknesses
Yet knows theirs as if they were scrawled on her palm

The deepest of empathy felt for others
When asked how she felt, her response is invisible

How could a soul so caring become so lost?
She thought this was her journey all along

"They don't know any better" - that's what she will say
As her heart is crushed deep into the dirt again and again

She knows she's at risk of the clutches of addiction
She thought she was safe due to the lack of substance within

The addiction she has however is worse than any drug
And the lack of substance relates to a lack of oneself

She spends her whole life ensuring they are happy, safe and content
Yet she has no grasp on the needs of her own life, let alone wants

It is difficult to see what's infront of you for looking
For now all she can do is try her best at turning a blind eye to their lives

Life issues come in all shapes and sizes
But please remember that to fix other people, compassion is necessary

For yourself, then others.

There was a pool.
A deep pool of watery emotion.
I must keep my head above water to survive.
For years that's what I've done.

Circumstances drew my being into the deep unknown.
As long as I may keep my head above water, surely I will sustain life.
The water seemed black,
Tarnished
The darkness trickling from every pore of my body.

I was slumped in a whirlpool laden with dismay.
On a mission to seek safety, I constantly held my head above water.
There came a time where I felt as though I no longer had the strength to stay safe.
My energy was becoming exhausted
I felt a weight dragging me under, prompting me to sink.
All I could see was the darkness.

I felt the misery penetrate my inner being as my lips took one last breath before relinquishing myself to immorality.
I pierced my eyes closed, as tight as I could as an attempt to keep the unlit from entering my perception.

Although plagued by fear of this darkness and essentially the unknown, I knew I had to fight.
And by fight I mean surrender, for fighting is all I have ever done.

Opening my eyes I felt the battle be drawn from my psyche.
I let go of the connection.
The preexisting negative prejudice and judgement floated to nothingness.
By taking away the battle, so to was the darkness and associated distress.

The whirlpool of water which I always believed to be darkness suddenly appeared as still, pure, clean, and clear water which flowed through my every pore.
Dignity returned.
Happiness too.
There was now only light overflowing my inner self.
Cleansed and free, I finally found safety.

I sit in the chair, gazing.
Was it stars? Was it the moon?
What was the sight that took my being away from the present?
It was not a vision, rather a feeling.
To escape
Escape can be easy but is not always the safest path.
A fork in the journey requires a decision.
One way is full of kindness,
The other of pain
What would you decide?
The kindness brings numbness with it
While the pain brings fear
Fear which is beyond your comprehension.
Fear which creates the pain
Pain so intense it is felt in every inch of the physical body.
So you choose kindness?
The kind type of numbness that is as beautiful as a drug
Yet as ugly as the comedown
Take a step back and watch it play out
No pain, no fear
However the emptiness is haunting
The sound distorted and lingering
The prompts to face the pain and fear become louder
Stronger
More persistent
Snap
The focus shifts back to reality
No more fading
Just now a reality which has a little more emptiness ingrained within it

"Go have a breakdown since that's all you're good at"

He doesn't realise the weight his words have on me

Words that cascade with force into my entire world

Tunnel vision showing only him

As a target

Revenge is bittersweet
Much like the black coffee, dark chocolate, and gin that I love

In hindsight revenge never does cut it

Because I never use a knife

Instead my revenge is in the form of removal

It makes no difference

.

Words

That's all they are

Yet they're as sharp as a double edged sword

One side is jagged, the other smooth

Both cut

Deep

Wounds left etched through my body

Scars running like war paths over my entirety

Does he gain pleasure by putting me down?

Does making me feel worthless make him feel strong?

Or am I simply a woman who hasn't evolved past the hindrance of emotion

We lay in the bed
My red singlet was all that was between the warmth of our skin
It had white polka dots on it
Do you remember?
The scent of you in the bedding was like heaven to my mind
I was in the place I had dreamt of being time and time again
This was it
This was real
We could finally be
I had began to doubt that love could ever be between two souls so incredibly lost
I felt the roughness of your hand slide over my abdomen
I so badly wanted to take that hand to places I'd never had hands before
We didn't know what love was
Having not been taught by those supposedly near
Confusion
****** anguish
Fear
I knew you were afraid
I could feel the fear you held
It was based around being afraid of hurting me
I only wonder now
Had you hurt someone before?
Or was it you who was hurt?
Within your soul the pain was evident
I didn't sleep a wink that night
I didn't want to miss a moment of your arms around me
Your warmth against me at last
The safety and security I had been without was finally within
It was love
My first love
I miss that
I know what I miss is more than an idea
More than a perception
I wonder if you miss that too.

Have you ever felt empty?
Like you should be feeling but there is nothing.

Have you ever felt invisible?
Like you should be seen but you are not.

Have you ever felt abandoned?
Like you never really meant anything to them.

Have you ever wanted to disappear?
Like you, I also do.