This Is Something That Has Long Been Coming
It Had Too Have Happened Eventually
This Is Not Something You Can Stop
It Has Too Come Out Or Else

Anger, Vibrant, Sharp And Harsh
Sadness, Slow, Liquid And Flat
Pain, Bright, Acute And Rough
Joy, Brilliant, Soft And Smooth

The Insanity I Feel, The Craziness Of My Days
The Pressure Of The World, Onto My Weak Shoulders
Buckling Under The Weight Of The Mountain
I Only Wish For The Feather, To Shift Only The Feather

Writing Is A Way Of Release, A World Away From Reality
Shifting Thought, Spilt Blood On The Yellowed Pages
Browned, Once Red, The Reek Of Copper, The Taste Of Fear
Blazing And Flaring, Shining Bright, Shadowed Door

Duty, Heavier Than A Mountain. Death, Lighter Than A Feather
Duty, The Duty To Care For Those In "Need", Helping Those Who Ask
No Matter To My Own Thoughts, On These Yellow Pages, Red On White
Ask Me For Help, And Thou Shalt Receive, It Is My Nature, To Help Those in "Need"

My Mountain Feels Heavy, So Very Heavy, My Shoulders Straining With The Weight
Burning Migraine, Weeks Now, Many Long Arduous Weeks, But Will I Stop?
No I Will Not Put Down The Mountain, It Is There Forever More, Though All I Wish
Is Too Shift That Deadly Feather, Let This White, Shining Feather Fall From My Broken Shoulders

I Sketch This Mountain, Upon My Yellowing Pages, Years Of Pages, All Yellowed With Age, Written Agony
Don't Burn These Pages, Don't Rip These Words, These Thoughts Are My Legacy, My Own Memoirs
Not Much Joy, A Small Amount, That Will Grow To Be Crushed Underfoot But Those I Have Loved, Love, And Will Love
Crushed Heart And Soul, My Spirit Bearing A Mountain, With A Feather On Top, The Waiting, The Impatience, The Feather Quivers

A mirror is never just your reflection,
My mother once said
The mind has this devilish way of
Twisting
Things around
Making then a lot more or a lot less
That what stands before me
Suddenly
My face isn't my face anymore
Instead
I stare blankly at a blueprint
Society itself has hand-sketched
For me.
Post-it's on where things had gone wrong
Scribbles on things I needed less of
Highlighters on places I needed
Brighter brights
Thinner thins
And I just stood there
Watching
As these self-proclaimed architects
Unraveled
The plans they had for a body that wasn't theirs.
Accepting
The new rooms they had drawn next to the ones that already existed,
The ones that were always there
The ones I made a home out of,
The mole on my ear
That never seemed out of place
Until,
The impact of a critical post it told me so.
The place where my thighs met
I've always ignored,
Assuming I was normal
But the scribbles that
Begged
For less of me,
Proved otherwise.
The marks of stretched skin
I considered battle scars over a few calories at a buffet table
Nullified
By society's architects
Disapproved
As if it were up to them
Invalid
Like human came in the form of overruns
But I stare at this blueprint that suggests to change me from
Floor to floor
Head to toe
And wonder
If the one who owns the lot in which I am
Wonder
If He wanted to change me anymore than them
If He liked the original rooms
More than the ones carved to fit the trends
If He wanted me to ignore the architects
And the drafts of copies
And copies
And copies
Of different versions of me

Didn't He want me to accept the mirror for who I am?

I wait, excited for when I see you again.
touch your fingers
kiss your lips
hear your voice.

But you always wanted more.

Because instead of wanting to see me
you wanted to see how the dress you bought looked on my body,
instead of touching my fingers
you wanted to invade  the parts of my body i regarded sacred,
instead of kissing my lips
you wanted to devour my mouth
and dominate me to show how weak i am,
instead of hearing my voice
you wanted moans and cries of pleasure
screams for the world to hear that I belong to you.

I sit here on the bed.
After your rounds of happiness and my forced labor.
I ask you who was the girl that you were so clearly flirting with last night and you tell me  it was just harmless flirting
and I bite my tongue
because i wanted to scream at you
Is it harmless,
that when you canceled on our date because you said you were sick,
someone told me that they saw you at a club, that you were gripping that girl's waist
and grinding on her like you were her man?
Is it harmless,
that everyday you rub it in my face how immensely inexperienced and timid i am
compared to the other girls you've been with?
Is it harmless,
that you asked me if it's okay if you ***** other girls
and I was taken aback and it was clear that I didn't approve?
You said
"They don't really mean anything, I just need some variety."
I knew right there that even if I didn't allow you, you'd still do it.
And right now
I’m just confused more than ever as I ask you again
What exactly we are and you say
“We're exclusively dating.”
But most of the time it’s more like
exclusively *******
with each other
with other emotions
with our non-existent commitments.
Because after just a mere 5 minutes of you being with me
and I refuse to spread my legs for you,
you have the nerve to lie to my face and look me in the eye and say
"My love for you gets stronger everyday."
And I swoon, being the naive little girl that I am
I am hung up on your words and I say yes when you ask me if we're okay.
But I know that by okay you mean okay with being invaded.
And with every pound, with every ******
The word love is replaced by lust
so now the sentence is
"My lust for you gets stronger everyday
and my love for you decreases the same."

I am so tired and so worn down from the weight of all my insecurities and you come hobbling in with your own bag of insecurities and stick it inside of me which you only do when other girls don't want you to.

Well guess what
For the first time in my life,
I'm
gonna
say
no.

Half found terrified—half lost fearless age
I’ve only the courage to get me through the day
And my perspective has been waning with each sleepless night
Lost in faces I no longer recognise

I’m certain I follow the same as my father
Running from the troubles of east coast
Or my brother, and my mother
Letting all my loved ones go

I’m too weak to fight my fear of lovers getting close
Too tired to wake from the delirium
That I hurt my own soul
Too changed to shine on and get through the day
Without a stutter in my thoughts
That I’ve made a mistake

I’m not sorry that I let you in
More that I cut you off without a thank you
Or a goodbye
Kiss
But my lips tremble and my hands shake at the slightest sign
That life is getting on and getting by
Without me by your side

when i was a little girl -
i believed my daddy was the smartest man in the world.
he knew everything. everything.
if i had a question, daddy had an answer, and a good one.
always.

his degree was in biology,
but he preached from a pulpit every sunday.
his friends, colleagues, congregation, all knew him as Pastor Brett.
to me he was just daddy -
and he was the smartest man in the world.

on days when i couldn't understand my own head,
(which were, and still are, very often)
and got frustrated with myself to the point of tears,
he would kiss my cheeks and promise me i wasn't stupid.
and coming from him, the smartest man i knew, that meant the world.

as years passed and i grew, my naivety remained with me,
and so i thought i was too smart to fall into life's traps.
i fell. i fell fast. i fell hard. i fell often. and i shattered.
each time, the smartest man in the world picked up my pieces
and reassured me i was still welcome in his home.

he never loved me any less, much to my bewilderment.
however, as my faults increased in frequency and severity,
he picked up my pieces now with weathered hands and weary eyes.
his smile was weaker, and a deep pain stirred in the chocolate irises behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

my deception morphed into vines that constricted and twisted and choked out the truth.
he poured out his love onto an underserving me, and said that God would still forgive.
but i, daughter of the smartest man in the world, am a fool.
and by my own two hands, i continued to sink.

he leaves me to pick up my own pieces now, not loving me any less,
but too weak, too exasperated, too heartbroken to do it himself as he always had.
he is done. he loves me and i know it. he shows it. but he is done.
my tears bore him. my half-true stories and pitiful excuses move in one ear and out the other.
he is stone-faced, no longer shocked by my confessions so i leave them unspoken.

his kisses, sear my flesh. his love burns because i know i don't deserve a single shred of it.
i wish he hated me. i wish we could fight. that would make things easier, right?
but he won't. he just won't. he loves me so much and i can't stand it.
but he is done. i broke my father, and his heart, for nothing.

he asked me why i do the things i do,
why i don't just stop it. why i keep on hurting him and my mother.
i didn't have an answer. all i had to offer the smartest man in the world,
was a dry mouth and empty hands.

m.f.

It always begins the same. Ordinary day.
Then we start and that goes away.

I met up with some mates and went for a drink,
Dropped the singular and began to sink.
Testing the waters of inebriation,
I waded into a sea of intoxication.
In liquidity I lost lucidity
and floated off, spinning chillingly.

Gotta get loose and keep it moving,
The second you stop, you start losing.

I never lost curiosity,
The feelings of exploration never ceased to move me.
Each venture was another chance
to find something I couldn't catch.

On binge drinking I have this to say:
Relief is no valid reason to partake,
Sport is fair but only with mates;
And discovery is a double-edged blade.