There’s vengeance gnashing its teeth
The anger, blindfolded,  
Flagellates at my insides
Churning out a fresh helping
Of supine decay,
Feeding its crippled existence.

I shrink at the sight
Of fingers pointing at me
To then direct wobbly steps  
Of melting courage
To be able to peer at
The faces behind
The exclamations
Of accusations aimed at me.
Till I bump against a mirror,
That, I had thought to be a window.

My palms scramble for strength
Clamped on to the mirror
As I slip on to the floor
I hope the aches will
Numb me into sleep,
Till I wake up
To fidgeting arms and feet,
As the glass ceiling above shatters
To reveal in mockery
A mirrored ceiling right above,
Which I had thought to be the sky
Before I had entered the room.

I'm thinking about you a little bit.
Okay, a lot.
Maybe because your lips were the last to touch mine
(6 days ago) (and counting)
Or maybe because you tried to Skype me from your roof last night.
That was sweet of you.
But also
so very representative
of your lack of  l o g i c  &  r e a s o n.
You worry me.
Did you know that?
Maybe.
Maybe I think about you because you're great at ***.
I'd like that to be the reason.
But it isn't.
Because now when I think about you I don't think about *******.
****.
I think about when you kissed me in that stupid deli.
I think about when you danced with me down Boylston.
And how you always tell me to smile
And how, for some reason, that makes me want to frown.
And how being with you makes me want to tell someone I love them.
But not necessarily you…
And how you inspire me to create things. Anything.
Like stream of consciousness poetry. So thank you.
But then again
This didn't turn out very well, did it?

Questions cloud my common sense,
which usually helps me out in these situations
and i want to run away
and escape this fated infidelity
dangling helplessly from a limp noose that sneers
at me. laughing at my insecurity
my inability to cope with the blows
that life keeps dealing me
i need a break
a chance to breath
to sort these apathetic voices in my head.
Exhausted
and reclaiming myself
and I have no plans
really, of going anywhere just now.

My mind is adrift, carrying me afar
Away from the binds of words
Beyond the realm of consciousness
Of the regular and mundane
Taken off, to reach a higher plane
Which has housed me in quietude
Away from marooning thoughts
I have found my island of bliss

I am neither  the body, nor the mind that bridles it,
   the realization strikes, my moment of awakening
             the horse and the rider
  will submerge in the river at the limits.
          The consciousness , the storm petrel
   alone  would cross the limits of the 'sky of the mind'
           - painted by material world, through life time-
to super consciousness, beyond the bubble of universe,
        " the presence before the beginning", timeless
  where there are no two, "I am that"
        nothing but the primordial One

I always thought
That if I had to lose you
As much as it may hurt
I would remain unscathed.

Now I see
The opposite holds true
It is I who would have
The shattered heart
It is I who would
Crumble to pieces.

For you, my dear,
Are the one I grasp onto
You are the one whom
I let into my defences.

Only you have the power to
Destroy me
In a way no one else could
I fear the loss of your presence,
You warmth, your love
I fear the loss of you
More than anything else.

Only you have the power to
Complete me
In a way no one else could
I love your presence
Your warmth, your love
I am so in love with you
You make me feel so alive.

This is why I will continuously
Brush off or dismiss the little things
That have offended me
I cannot bare to argue with you.

Overreacting is part of my nature
I hope you can accept it
As one of my fatal flaws
And somehow love me anyways.

I always thought
That if I had to lose you
I would be ok
But if my fatal flaws
Made you stop loving me
Eventually leaving me
I would hate myself with such a zeal
That no one would be able to convince me of anything otherwise.

I know that I am flawed
But I hope despite it all
You can still continue
To love me anyways
Because I am terrified
Of the day
When you will say
That you don't.

You know
How I told you before
That I have no muse
Because it ran away
Well I've been leafing through my notebooks
And I've come to realise that
Without intending to
A new muse
Has been hiding
In the depths of my tangled mind
It's you.

You have taken up
The space that was once empty
I write as I love and I love to write
Somewhere along the way
You have become the most frequent topic
Of my many musings
It is clear to me now that
In the search for finding the right words to say to you
I have been writing down the things
I can't quite say aloud (Yet).

I will keep all of these
Incoherent, unfinished, rambamable
Yet honest things
I will keep them safe
One day I will place them together
Side by side
Finally you will see
The words I struggle to express
You will see
My feelings on paper
In their most raw and true state
Just for you.

Do you want me as much as I want you?

And I don’t mean in the physical, “I want to ******* way”

I mean in the “I want to hold your hand and fall asleep with you and while you slumber tell you not how beautiful you are to me but how beautiful you are to the world and how you deserve someone much better, fitter, prettier, smarter, better, than me and hope you can hear well in your dreamland and then tell you how I want you to make me feel like the only star in the universe, the one that shines brightest but that will never burn out, to make me feel like the one who deserves everything you tell her in the pitch of the night, but I also want you to tell me these things in the daylight when I can show you those three scars on my arm, when you can see every single blemish that I refuse to cover up on my acne-riddled face, when the cellulite between my thighs and covering my once-thin tummy jiggles while I laugh at the silly jokes you tell me to cover up the fact that we both are terrified at being hurt again and what I want the most is for you to read this terrible poem and tell me I’m not crazy for wanting these things because you want them too" sort of way.

Three-thousand memories ago I once wrote the line, “I’m tragically in love with the idea of you” but I’ve moved past that. I’m at the point where I’m just praying you aren’t in love with an idea of me, because believe me, it’s twisted, it’s warped, it’s a facade. I hope that as soon as you realize I am Jess The Mess you don’t run away screaming, because I sure as hell would.