It’s the pills and the bottle
that kills you
without death
sometimes your mind needs them
till you heal and you realise
that you have killed apart of yourself
sometimes it dies forever
and you never know who you are
even cheerful people **** parts
of themselves to survive
It’s the pills and the bottle
that kills you
without death
two pills twice a day
a mind ******
and a bottle taken
without control

sometimes doctors know best
sometimes a part death
is better than any upgrade
Maybe some people have to revisit
tiny deaths till the living parts
make more sense

Sometimes
A poem is the first hand extended
when the self is confused
and help
well it’s just a voice away

I’ve been torn down when lovers’
knowledge told me not to be protected from
my faithless heart frame. It tells me that
it’s not built to last and was

never true anyway.

All these times that I knew in facing the mirror
every thought turned into that light, shifting
moments to disclose the deeper meaning of
just being here. Knowing this, holding myself in an

act of reconciliation, that part of me burnt out
my soul, bound to exile, dangling from me, is my
own self esteem. /Prohibited. No one whose presence
I feel can forcefully lift it back in, this heavy it’s my burden.

Nothing but true unadulterated love can
hold me, if only for the fragment it takes to
relieve my distrust, of anything, of all that is able
to console me. Then it passes and barely leaves

me only the memory.


© April 16th, 2015

fromabove
       itleaves
         youbreath-
less:
suspended

on the
             edges
           of theknown
           world aren't stars        
        cavingoutand
      in
but rather:

tree
tops;

    mountain
val - leys,
         jag-
    ged

cliffs

pegged.
eversoslightly
to the
earth

be-
   low.

    you.

We sat an’ didn’t like the sweetcorn,
nor the forks, the moon had no quarrel.

The sun had no bite with the wallpaper.
Black, Black the salted air drifted

The colour scented with the taste
of chip’s n’ vinegar

/
If it were not for Some
How was the Start of the
And even though some may Start
Something must have
Means automatic did Not

Your Earthly Life
This day
And This night

The tree needs Soil
It takes Light
Air
Water

Just as you Are
So Love Exists
There are Smiles
Cry
Song

There is Nothing
Where you Can't
All the Dark
The Stars in the night Sky,
Even I couldn't See
There is no Moon,
In the Darkness

Why one for Another
Everyone why Each
The inside address seems quite Difficult
But not too Difficult

If you Try,
You can Catch a Few
It's your Secret to Everyone
I think you are my creation this Address
Have Taught

Very Simple
Such Life
So there is Death
The Earth exists so there is Light
The Trees are
So Fruits,
Has its branches for the Birds
Embroiled Nest
Sing the Songs
The Songs are in the air to You

You have come to Me
Together in Love
Is made from the River
Goes out to the Sea
Get lost in the Midst
Of a wave of a Thousand Million
Back Again
In Another Form
Mystery of any other Occasion
Any other Day
Repeatedly
Continuous
/
@Musfiq us shaleheen

That I'm cute
Beautiful
Pretty

And I tell them that
It's okay that I'm not
Because I know I'm not
But I don't like being lied to

I know I'm not
Because I can't let tears
Drip down my cheeks
As they shimmer in the dim light
Of the movie credits

I sob until
My face is red and damp and puffy
And I'm clinging to your sleeve
And just crying so uncontrollably
That people sitting next to us
In the dark theater
Might glimpse over to see if maybe
I have a reason to cry so hard.

Does shehave cancer?
Is she missing a leg?
Did her crack-addict mother die when she was an infant?
Why is this bratty straight white blonde girl crying while watching Selma/Dallas Buyer's Club/The Help?

I have to brush my hair
Instantly
When I get out of the pool
In the summer
(Hopping from foot to foot of course
Because the sun has baked the concrete)
Because if I don't
It becomes a half-curly knotted mess.

And if I don't braid it directly after that
Then it dries
In resemblance to a Yield Sign
In a somewhat triangular form

And I'm chubby.
Not fat. It would be better if I were fat.
If I were fat then things would be
Proportionalish
But instead I'm just
A 5'2 and 3/4" girl
With DDs that no one wants
Because "***** don't count when you're chubby"
And baby fat that lounges on my stomach
No matter how many kilometers I row.

My fingers are too small for my hands.
My glasses make my eyes look huge.
My lips are forever chapped.
My cheeks are overly red.
My eyes are too dark to be pretty
And I know it.
I know all of it.

I've lived in my body for longer than you have.
So don't lie to me.
Don't tell me that I'm cute
Beautiful
Or god forbid pretty
Because I really
Really
Hate being lied to.

There is a place in time one
wishes happy endings to arise, but will
not see, that it is meant to
last. I want love but don’t expect

any lasting effect. Almost always, one
falls out, though it is not impossible. I see the
faces, the eyes which show the
experiences. I see more in the soul,

I know they can tell I search.
Maybe, when I see that light, I will
be able to say, discern a path given
to last to the end. But I can’t until

I’ve searched long enough, given
enough of myself to have earned a respect
from life, the cosmos, to take away any
doubt, and let me sway to the eternity of

love. Tonight, I just want to feel thrill, behold
it how I feel it in my soul, no matter how
contrived. I see a way beyond the reflection; I look
into my eyes, see whole worlds within. I wait

till someone, finally, can see mine.


© 2004