Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
I’m humming so that I can’t hear them
But they can hear me
And hate my humming
But how else do I cope?
Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

What did I ever do to you?
What was so wrong of me?
Why do you do this to me?
What gives you the right?
Tell me please,
Do you think I asked for this?
Is this some kind of sick joke?
I don't find it very funny,
Tell me please,
Tell me please,
Oh, please tell me,
So what if I have,
PTSD,
Depression,
Autism,
Tourettes,
ADHD,
Dyslexia,
Anxiet­y,
Aspergers,
Addiction?
What’s it to you?
Am I hurting you?

In your dream
they took you
and your skin scraped the floors
of some place terrible.
“You’re hurting me” you said.

You live here.

Your back bends over a table
and the woman snarls at you into finishing.
Fill in the blanks.
How many days in a year.
Something screams inside you, and you know you’ve written the wrong answer.
You are humiliated before them all.
“I should fail you” she says.
“I can’t do this” you beg.
But nobody understands you,
speaking in tongues like you do-
child-devil;
like animals weeping their life into deaf ears, telling stories in whines and tears .

...

In your dream
His usual dyed mustache
now parading its natural white.
Something’s changed in him

but you know it’s not enough.

You open your mouth
in tongues, in tongues
but this is a dream
and in this dream, they understand.

“I know what you did to me. I know who you are.
Selfish. Selfish.
You came for my light
because yours had extinguished.”

Crushed by the truth, his heart crumbles.
He understands.
They all do.

Joy.
You’ve won.
And you wake.

You wake.

When I was fourteen,
I had the sun in my mouth.

I, a baby with parted lips.
The world dancing before me.
Like the greatest show on earth.

Here, the greatest fool.
A devil, a child.

The dumbest romantic you have ever known.
The softest, sweetest buffoon.
Imbecile.
Idiot.
The biggest joke to come out of a woman.

...

And yet, what could be more pure
than to say the words
and not know what they mean?

To have no fault. To be unaware.
To know only wonder
and tears.


Horned child of paradise.

       Hold yourself
and sing into the night.
    Cry into your arms



      and say goodbye.

Look at me.
Tell me what you see.
Dark hair
Blue eyes
Pale skin,
Is that all?
Look again.
Look closer.
Please,
Look closer.

Do you see them,
The scars
The bruises
The cracks?
The shadows,
So many shadows.
When I look in the mirror
They're all I can see
But you say that I'm fine,
Am I fine?

Please.
Please see me
Please hear me
Please.

Can you hear them
On my tongue,
The pleas
The cries
The screams?
They sound so loud
In my head,
And taste so bitter
Always sitting there,
A sodden
Seething
choking pill
That I can't swallow,
But can't spit out.

Do you understand?
Please.
I just need someone
To see me.

All I can do is close my eyes,
And hold my breath,
And pray that this is not my life.
That I was switched at birth,
Or switched in time,
Or maybe I just haven’t woken up yet.
That’s it!
It must be!
This is all just a dream,
a nightmare,
This merry go round
Of work and bills and people, oh my!
And the tune that it’s playing
As I spin round and round,
The cracked cadence of a broken music box,
Do this, do that, why aren’t you married yet?
Hey don’t worry,
You just haven’t found the right guy.

It should be so easy,
To dance to their tune.
Everyone else does it…
So why can’t I?

They say demons should be
                                                               exorcised
They say in the dark lurks
                                                               evils
They say in your soul 
should be nothing but
                                                               light
That washed out is better 
than chiaroscuro.
They say all these 
                                                               things
But what do they know,
these people who live in the grey?
My muses are demons
My pen is a knife
My life is much
                                                               better
With black ink in my
                                                               veins
I suppose if their minds were to
                                                               open
We'd all be exactly the same;
A world full of demon filled people
With eyes open
                                                               wide
Drawing beauty from shade.

I’m slipping again.
I can hear them.
Whispered admonishments,
Echo in my head…
Louder and louder,
As I feel fuller and fuller,
All my spaces filled with shadows,
And the demons start to creep,
Clawing up my throat
And through the cuts in my skin.
I can’t control the chaos,
My hands are sliding on the reins,
I wish that I could ask for help,
But they won’t let me.

I don’t recognise the face I see,
Staring from the mirror,
It’s pale,
empty,
An ill-formed shell,
A weak and cracked container
For this maelstrom,
My hell.

They’re scratching at my skin again,
Make it stop, make it stop.
My bones are breaking through again,
Make it stop.

Smile.
“I’m fine.”
Smile.
“Just tired.”
Smile.
“oh, sorry, I’ve been busy.”
Smile.
Smile.
Smile.

It’s funny,
isn’t it?
How hard it is to tell the difference
between a smile

and a grimace.

It’s funny,
isn’t it?
How people are so willing
to swallow a lie,
If it’s what they want to hear,

And you’re baring your teeth.