The tumultous pull of religion versus the heart
Religion dictates actions sometimes at the forefront and most times in the background
Residuum of beliefs
I was raised in are forever present
You cannot simply  forsake what you know no matter how stifling it is
My faith is paper thin
Like an exterior skin I wore
It is sliding off me
And I lay bare exposing my authentic self

A hybrid
A product of both sides
To truly be free cut me
right in two
Perhaps I will win
this tug of war between two worlds
In the midst of confusion
Both sides pulling me in the opposite directions

Asphyxiating in this  cardboard box of conformity
I was never sold to their ism to begin with
Sick of pretending
Squeezing myself into a jar of good behaviour
A sticker on my forehead
For being an obedient girl

The rigid rules of the little black book are weighing me down
I still believe, I do
The rope....  needs more slack

Faith latches on and never leaves
but
My heart speaks louder.

A ******* enthusiast
Whose pessimism is intrinsic
And not fashioned
A frequenter the doldrums
With a penchant for exaggeration

A confused Scorpio
Plagued by ghosts of former selves
Meandering along a thorny path
Under darkened infinite skies
Waiting for the severed backbone
I Possess trailing behind
To latch on
And offer restoration and purpose

An eternal student
A slave to academia
With an insatiable hunger for knowledge
In the field of economics
Governed by perfectionism
That will be my demise

A feminist
A riot grrrl
With an acute  fascination with morbidity
A worshipper of rock music
And Professional headbanger

An enlightened inner-directed soul
An awakened dreamer
Gouging out
The remaining fragments of delusion
From the eyes
Embracing realism

A sufferer
Aspiring to be human.

The night sky ruptured and bled crimson
The souls of tortured and restless spirits of the departed descended upon us....
Hovered around us

Their defeaning twisted screeching and whispers  fell into our trembling ears

Those who took refuge in the fort that cannot be touched by the unholy denied us entry
We begged and knocked until our knuckles bled
Till our fingernails fell off

The ground crumbled beneath us
Opened a giant sink hole to oblivion

Trapped in the shackle of near damnation
Motionless
All we could do was endure the inescapable ruination

my dear
where are you?
are you at peace?
as for me
i ached to bloom
all my petals
scattered on the ground
on this strange land
i am sorry
i am failing to be
i miss you.

I tried to jot down a poem, no actually I tried to force out one
All I got was a splatter of lame ****  lines in the memo bit of my ****** Samsung which has definitely seen better days

Imagine if one were to try to **** a cactus or something resembling one
That's what forcing out
any piece of writing feels like
of course I would not accurately know as I have never **** a cactus before (has anyone ever)

Anyway, I cracked my skull
Trying to get my emotions to that zone where it flows naturally
A good poem is one that stems from the heart

I'm probably talking nonsense right now it's 2:20am, I have red wine running through my veins
I am at this very moment questioning the notion of the existence of a correlation between writing and alcohol consumption
If there is indeed a correlation then in this state of intoxication I should have penned a poem oozing with sheer and utter brilliance, surely

2:40am and I am done rambling.

Conjure up prismatic realities
To pacify
The Unscratchable itch
Of want
With words doused in artifice
Fervour in the palm of hands
Brimming in fingertips
Lay awaste

The horizon gleams
With the sight of burgeoning despair
The halt of calm
Reason devouring the
The ephemeral mist of utopia
Razors edge has always cradled
And contained
The incorrigible dreamer

Saudade knocks on your door
Whispering September's forgotten promise
A spring that blooms
Palpable authenticity.

Ecstasy seeped into vena
The purloin of senses
The profuse thud of a heart
On edge
Igniting bedlam
Doused in consequence
Of a shattery bliss.*


18/08/2014

Fragments of moments
That can never fuse into
Wholesome experience
Are what remains
When you depart
With the light on your back
Leaving
Shards of luminescence
Splattered
In your wake

I remain
Bound
In the wastelands
Of attachment
Perpetually
Chasing your ghost
Until I become one.

I can't function as a normal person and I don't know how or when that happened
I am fueled by nothing
It's a miracle I am still breathing
This was never my intention
I did not sign up for this, like everybody else

I feel a part of myself morphing into  that person I never thought I would ever be and now I can't even recognize who I actually am
I am afraid to face myself... face my reality
How much more of myself will I shed before I become someone else completely
Or maybe I'm shedding it all to become what is authentically me
However it is, I just want to feel comfortable in this skin that's apparently, mine.

I am afraid of ambitions becoming a memory
Time is moving fast... Much faster these days
I am scratching away relentlessly from sheer impatience
Waiting for that opportunity to reveal itself.

Something shifted that spring
The gentle hands that which caressed my bare back
Became a claw
Ripping my fragile atoms
With confusion and horror
Another faceless thing
Pulling me into the mist
Fade to black
I folded my soul over
The tremble found it's way
To the surface
In the spaces between
The cracks in the foundation.

December
Sashayed in
With soft shivers
Down my spine
Stilling the blood
Coursing through veins
Gathering bones
Trepidations
And faculties
Gathering all these things
Turn my face towards
The bright white
The reverie falling
Behind me
Like shadows.

Not much observation is required
To recognise that the only thing epic about her is her sadness
Which she wears well
Like a snug cardigan
Severe disregard for life varied with an intense desire to thrive not just survive
A tragic paradox

Her repetitive nature is aggravating
All who have listened have, absorbedly
Offered advice which she blatantly declined to take
The saga is getting old and tiresome
They tell her to see the light, curse the dark, and the shadows that  hover over her
They expect their words to make all the difference
And she would skip away with a smile and new found appreciation for life and all it has to offer

Riddled with guilt
She feels accountable for the pain inflicted on others by her actions
Harbouring the guilt that eats and never dies
Forever harbouring the guilt

A desperate "poet"
Finding tranquility from linking words
To form sentences, a poem
To express and create some form of art
Seeking ecstasy
Through purging of emotions

A confused little girl
Who is not so little anymore
The years are violently adding up
Though young
The sand through the hour glass is running out
Growth of the self stunted by sickness of the mind
Ricocheting from the remainder of classic teen-angst to the inevitable adult crash

All of the achievements
Do not mean anything if she cannot feel it
Looking at pictures that hang above the fire place
Her teeth indicate she is smiling
Her eyes do not
Vacant
She is not really here
She could be anywhere

I know you best when you are flowers in the barrels of rifles
I know your strength
When your hem comes undone
When you delicately stitch the fragments of your unbecoming
When everyone else is reaching is reaching for the sun
I know you when you ache to swallow it
When you rip through the Gods
Searching for the skeleton key
That will quieten the feeling
The cure
Vague, elusive
I know you when your love is sacrificial, ******, dangerous,
clingy but real
I know you best when fold your soul over
Pick it apart
Dangling on these edges
The soil in your fingernails
Lilies blooming in the spaces between your ribcage still.

Ut me demergat in hoc esse
Mea conscientia de in quod ibi est, nulla alternative ut vita sed ibi sunt alternative vitaes habet me sperans maybe unum die ibi numquid fomentum de hoc desolatio.

I do not know why or how
I conceived the notion
Of being the exception
Where has irrevocable devotion drained away to
All I know is nobody I know has it.

Inevitable descent into the sphere of hopelessness
Something catch me, please

These bones of mine will disintegrate
The empty will be triumphant with it's ever consuming dominance

I reach for what keeps me afloat
What never fails
What sustains me.

These continents
spat me out
The bones never rested
The guts of these frigid borders
Could never
Cradle nor contain
This incorrigible dreamer
At the very bottom of the barrel
Tethered myself to the foundations
Dissolved my whole being
In delicately stitched façades
And probables
Whose emotional resonance
Has long withered
Senseless
All these feet can do
Is chase the bitter winds
Shards of hope
Strewn
Broken compasses
Blinding lights
Tremble, seeth
Drenched in sin
In the centre of
The barren lands where
Sanity fuels the faculties
The ginormous machine
Devoid of soul.

Those who fight,
Surrender
When memories of a tainted past
Collide with fear of the future
Finding themselves wishing
They were oblivious
To certain  things
If not everything
To obliterate that which
They are privy to
From their core
For their psyches
To be a blank slate
To be written
And re-written
By their own hand


" To author their own souls"

She looked so defeated
Lying on that filthy stiff mattress
In a dingy room
With no furniture
Light or life
The walls were sticky with bleakness
The atmosphere reeked of poverty

Clutching her throbbing belly
Cradling nothingness
I prayed she would not cry
For I would not have been emotionally equipped
To handle such state of affairs
Face swollen, skin inflamed
Unbothered by her unkempt hair
A slight tremble in her voice
My heart sank and burned a hole in the floor

The sound of the small television
In the corner
Sliced the silence
My mouth was dry of words
If only I could shove my hand
Down my throat
To pluck the right words to say
Out of my core

Words of sympathy can be an insult
When nothing you say
Can lessen the hurt
I said nothing
When our eyes met I said all I had to say
Tacitly.

Aloft on the wings of mirth
A balmy atmosphere of ease
Pervades these foreign scenes
Where breathing is easy.

Some nameless deflation
In the pitch black
The tapestry
Of deceit
Meticulously strung
Of the softest words ever spoken
The dead embrace
A body
A thing
Shrouded in mystery
I care not to unearth
I couldn't love you
You were a small war.

The screams
infertile
delirious
The burning halo
Hanging on your neck
Your perfect edges ruffled
Grief awaits in a corner
at the dawn of tedious despair.

Hands pressed on chest
Trying to contain
A thunderous heartbeat

What will gather
Inside my door
Come daybreak?

The drums of terror
beat the loudest.

I identify with a book on the wooden shelf collecting dust
In an unoccupied study with immaculate furniture
No dog ears, coffee stains or marks
No one has ever read it
Or dared to browse through the pages
They walk past it

It's content is filled with haphazard revelations of the self
With splatterings of philosophy and *******
The more you read
It gets darker
An absence of transparency
An enigma grows
No one will ever know
It remains closed

Like a deceptacon
Visually appealing from afar but as they walk towards it something repels them

Though heartbreaking
A fine read it is
No ending written
The author is still evolving
Faultering and changing the conclusion as she treads the treacherous terrain of life.

I am in a state again
I cannot decide whether I want to press the blade against my skin for old times sake... Catharsis... I can almost taste that feeling again
Or whether I want to grab my chest and rip myself apart for the contents in this heart of mine to spill so I can expose my actual self

My head is filled with a plethora of incessant thoughts of impending doom
Something is brewing inside of me
The visceral part of me knows it will surface
It will happen, I have resigned myself to the fact
The collapse, the one that will be the end of me.

I had not the courage to write
My blood lacked the stillness
My pen ached to bleed
Words from this mildewed heart
I could not gather my bones
Nor my flesh
Disturbed by the noise in this labyrinth
I have felt like a burst natural disaster
All my viscous remains
Draining away to some forgotten wasteland
Where sorrow breeds
My emotions have been gentle but piercing

It's these roads devoid of landmarks
It's the thorns beneath my feet
The concrete boots strapped onto my ankles
It's the fog and my quivering hands
The want in my veins, how it roars
How on the best of nights
I cannot my life
And ever so often
The murk seeps from my fingernails
All these fragments of grace strewn
Like discarded morality

I have been too distracted in my feeble attempts
To grasp at the pale
My bones gravitate towards the irretrievables
Always
I keep seeing the colour of pearl
Blinding me
Binding me with

Serenity under the ripe lurid sun
The steady breeze of air
From the mountain peak
Created sublime hymns
of rebirth and restoration
And filled the chasm in my heart
Through and through

Enclosed in auroras majestic luminescence
Weightless and lionhearted
Unconstrained by trivialities
Of everyday obligations
I pondered on the authenticity
Of new found clarity

As I fed on the tantalizing
aroma of euphoria
I savoured each breath

When I emerged
From the picturesque surrounds
I prayed I had abandoned all my convictions
In the field of yellow stained daffodils

That hospital gown really
brings out your hazel eyes, baby
Your crippling self-loathing
Affinity for Alcohol abuse
And drug dependency
Make you so magnetic
Girls do love a troubled twenty-something

Those dilated pupils  must really  pull them into your merry go round of calamitous habit  
Leading to nowhere at three hundred kilometres per hour.

The only grip you have is on that bottle of two dollar brandy
Desperately scratching away at your epidermis
Puffing cigarettes as though your sanity and  life depend on it

Voluntary admission at the place of rehabilitation
The third attempt to mend your broken self
And purify your soul
Knocking at death's door
This time it will be different, you say
No one is holding their breath.

I am forever in a state of delusion and dreaming that blinds me from reality

I spend hours imaging the most perfect version of myself that I want to be but fail to be
I convince myself reality is like what I’m conjuring up the realisation that it's not, crushes me
I am always surprised every time
Like it's something new

I am standing behind myself waiting to step inside myself and embrace reality and embrace the person I am but I cannot because I hold my hopes in the person I could be

Sometimes I feel like I want to step outside of myself but every
attempt I always fall off a cliff

I want to peel these layers of ******* I am hiding under

I am searching for the calm
An end to these hideous emotions that have become a burden

Dizzy from going around in circles in this tiny world with such an insignificant existence
Repeating the same behaviours
Being eaten by the same conflictions
I have been fighting demons for years
And I have spent a decade fighting myself when I should've been happy

Sometimes it feels as though the
walls inside my head are caving in
My head is caving in
Scraped knees, dirt in my finger
nails from the muddy ground of
my tortured mind in a vain
attempt to crawl through the
spaces back to reality again

A prisoner of my own mind
how does one escape
themselves?!
I can't find the door
There are too many corridors
and clutter
I have to create my own door
Through the top of my  head

The righteousness of the flawed is overpowering...............