i hate writing about the things you did to me because as i'm sitting here bleeding out from the wounds you plastered on my skin treating my body as if it was your personal practice canvas, you are going about your life as if you didn't permanently make my mind so ******* fragile
so i refuse to bleed your name through each and every one of these pages i refuse to let you think after all these years you still have power over me
Bitter anger and confusion like vinegar won't stop love from flowing. They are both liquid coursing together through the great channels carved by passion. When dammed, these too overflow. I must, somehow, create culverts and new places to go.
it rises in me like a quiet tide like a rushing, swelling feeling that sets me fit to burst that fills me up and wells out from underneath my ribs and spills right over into my lungs and drowns my heart in its siren call of violence and in this moment i find that
i cannot fight it
because in this moment, they deserve the anger they deserve the blood
and yet, they also deserve nothing
and so i rage and fury and frustration that builds with the red hot taste of a million suns that fills my gums and worms it's way under the beds of my nails, slides through my skin and twists it's way around my heart hardening it giving me teeth and claws and skin of iron and the courage to run run run and then i can
i will rip into their bodies with words like knives teeth that tear and rip and shred i will bite their bones until they break lodge my claws deep in their lungs pull out their hearts and i will eat them
i am hungry so so hungry
and now these men and their hearts-of-war their fat coin purses with strings pulled tight
they have fallen to the beast
the one that they created
raised to be their downfall
(they have eaten my own flesh, drunk the marrow from my bones and watched me eat from the palms of their hands while i bled out
and so now i will devour their bodies feast on their meat as they did on mine)
and so i will slink away into the shadows i will draw back in my claws and teeth hide my hard heart and shining steelskin and put on the mask to hide my ravenous eyes
but i will be back my hunger is never slaked, my belly never full i will gorge on the hearts of those who thought i would never come for them
i am the creature i am the war i am hunger famine pestilence
i in the end am anger
and i am
we children have lead our lives on diets of all too familiar post apocalyptica and the feeling of rage burning hot through our stomachs, magma at our cores. one day, we will erupt.
My life is a virtual battlefield complete with hidden traps inside my house. Chairs and walls Coarsely blown to bits By verbal bombs, and stark fists full of shrapnel.
Behind that simple smile With Semblance of solid love, Lies a ripened mine field Easily shaken. I walk on tiptoe And still it erupts under My calloused feet, Unprovoked. Transforming my coloured space to grey My sacred sanctuary to scarred terrain.
Spears lodged inside ribs I peel myself from the ground Shaking off soot, Waiting for the dust to settle Before I march forward, again.
I lose the battles But I will win this war.
Reminded me of the song by Pat Benatar, "love is a battlefield" But again, hate seeps in as well.