my diurnal rhythms
the push
and the pull
of my tides
now ruled
by
the magnetic force
that is you
your love
felt deep
in the rising swell
of my desire for you
I am powerless
against
this gravitational pull
of wanting
of aching
of breathing
only for your touch
for your kiss
I can feel you
in every beat
of my heart
taste you
as the whet
on my tongue
feel
the vibration
that is you
as both sound and sensation
like a stretched string
quavering in perfect pitch
feel
my pounding heart
the buzz
running through my core
like a hummingbirds wings
in oscillatory motion
feel
every fibre of my being
awakened
every atom
in an excited state
your love both
the catalyst
that causes star bursts
behind my eyes
in a myriad
of beautiful hues
and
the soothe
the restorative
that lends a deep peace
to my soul
your kiss
your loving caress
the balm
that heals my heart.

© J.C.

A Scene
Comes to mind.
Evading reality.

Waves
Of comfort
Covering.

A vast ocean
Of warmth
Descending.

Resilience
The framework
Surrounding.

Safe here
In this passageway
Pretending.

I remember the first time I did it.
I felt so alive, I felt so free,
Then out of the blue addiction took it's hold.
How did it happen that quickly?
I'm not sure I even know.
Before I even turned around
I'd hit rock bottom, I felt so alone.
The bullying was relentless,
physically, verbally and emotionally.
The same old story day after day.
I felt my confidence and my strength slipping away.
There was no hope, no fight,
Nothing left in me to give,
I was cold. I was numb.
Then it all changed. I started to self harm.
At first a scratch would do,
Then it wasn't enough,
It escalated from there.
Soon it wasn't just my arms,
It was anywhere I thought no-one would see.
I felt like I was in control again,
I told myself "If I can do this I can handle any pain".
My box of blades became my best friend.
The bandages hid my secrets well.
Excuse after excuse came easily,
The scars appeared where the cuts had been
No-one knew how loud I wanted to scream.
They couldn't see the hurt inside
They didn't know my soul had died
I still remember the day they were told.
I was only 14 years old.
For 2 years I'd hidden it well.
I stopped for a while,
A few weeks at least.
The bullies didn't stop
If anything it was worse
I tried to take control again,
I believed I could do it
Without causing anyone any pain.
"If I'm better at hiding it no-one will know"
But as it got worse the scars began to show.
For a time it got really bad
It was two or three times a day.
Anytime I was alone,
Whatever I had close by.
I didn't care if I lived or died.
I wasn't trying to end my life
I was simply trying to feel alive.
As the pain inside got worse
So did my addiction.
The more people hurt me
The more I'd hurt myself.
It was that way until a year ago today.
I was inspired by someone who means a lot to me.
They sent me a message that said they believe in me.
Something inside me switched that day.
I felt worthy of love, acceptance and kindness.
I felt valued and worth something in the world.
Looking back I suddenly believed it wasn't my fault,
I didn't deserve this punishment or the hurt inside.
I needed to let go of it all and let myself live my life.
That's what I've spent the past year doing,
Sometimes I am amazed I made it at all.
However I did make it,
And to anyone out there struggling
You will make it too because,
Just like someone believed in me,
I believe in you.

It is so real to me.
I see it's harmless name everywhere, and it looks so innocent off of the context of your skin.
It haunts me where ever it is or whatever state it is in, and it is so shadowed to me.
But also extremely real, and vivid.
So chilling, but it also sets me to fire.
I see other harmless names and I am foreign to the lands of those graves.
I am glad, but I hate that this stands out to me.
I am walking the path of the graveyard, and will I fall in to my likely grave?
Or will I break off onto the swept path?
I will not know, but I am passing the graves of others who have succumb to the rough grips of these names.
And on these graves there are things written, telling what pushed and buried them in these graves.
And I see many empty graves and blank headstones ahead.
I know that mine may be waiting for me, and self harm is pushing me along the path to it.
Still, I am pushing back and I will ***** the swept path with my muddy feet.
And once I am there I will run far away and never let myself be pushed again.
I will not be buried in the dirt of self harm.