it feels impossible
to ignore the vulnerability
extending the olive branch
sweeping shadows under the rug
to feel included
to ignore the reality
mismatched expectations
always a step behind
a beat or two out of time with the rest
trust and reliance further
from the bedfellows you had always believed
and resentment builds at tight-knit bonds
you've never felt welcomed in
always on the outside
playing make-believe with borrowed time
and the other kids' toys
sometimes the big girl boots
tread paths you're not ready for
and routes to new possibilities
though painful and lonely and
endlessly daunting
are safest for a heart
worn out from breaking
under the mishandled fragile bonds
left of a trampled soul
rebuilding softly

Stalactites warp, following the bevels of the cave
Water drips rhythmically
Occasional tide patterns emerge and dissipate as echoes and ****** noise mingle and crest, ricocheting from natural ceiling.

He makes me see stars
paints galaxies on my skin
pours oceans of love
til I'm swimming in affections
unsteady tiptoes
slick on the marble
hooking his belt loops:
Let's lose ourselves tonight.

Chaos

I've spent the night concocting fake letters to my therapist as a concept for an art project. A coquettish ploy for validation, vindication without unpacking the heaviest loads.

My fear the depression is back, or never really left. The agony of watching my Love crumble at the hands of his own brain and his apathetic complicity in his brain's self-destruction. And by the way, I'm gay. Have a nice holiday.

Some email. But much easier than over the phone. No pauses, breaths, hedges, deflect. Fear of rejection runs deep, core to my design. The draft sits silently, relegated to the bin.

So much work. So much weight. Here's hoping my foundations hold until he's back.

Childhood chants for childish ways
Misbehaviour, misdemeanor
Nothing permanent no new stains
Visible to the naked eye, anyway

Minds play tricks, what a treat
Mistrusting, misunderstanding
Brain's concoctions can't imagine
Attention isn't worth these pains

What goes up must come down
Misremember, misbegotten
Lies, pretense, silly fancies
Self doubt sees the stalwart slain

- Questioning my insanity, a double-edged gaslight burns me at both ends but I no longer feel the flame

It's so impossibly hard to capture fleeting moments of anguish in words that truly embody the experience. In that second stretching for on for days, there is no escape, no end, no hope. Such a hopelessness is intensely lonely and creates a terror that passes through muscles so concretely the electrical current sparks fuzzy on my teeth, freezing my jaw.

And when that moment ends, seconds to days later, such a feeling is still so impossibly hard to capture that I doubt memory and weary body alike. The exhaustion has no tangible cause. Nothing ties my lingering reactions to their root any longer. The synapses decay.

These words become all I have.