pleading,
crying,
begging—
wanting to be heard.

watching, writhing,
burning in agony.
dreaming a nightmare,
hugging solemn innocence.
aching—
in despair, in desire.

once an angel of life—
now a demon of death in disguise.
her wings were torn, brutally,
and she couldn’t even scream one last time
before they threw her
off the landing.

nowhere to step, nowhere to stand—
barely able to sit,
and yet she ran.

kept running, far and farther still,
only to be pulled back
every time she thought she'd made it out.

they were always there.
watching.
waiting.
hoping.
to catch her,
to tear her—
hands on every part of her.

disgust piled with the blood in her mouth.
she scratched her skin,
tore herself apart—
knowing it’d hurt less
than being caught
by the counterparts.

and yet—
oh, look.
isn’t the moon pretty?

subtracting voices
chandeliers hung by dead feathers
cannon ***** of years when time hated fairly
left over promises i'm not friends with

getting lept out
hanging death
to find a friend
running away
marrying the wash out
battling for empty
filling up the old crimes
inside my healing head
to destroy their evidence
useless when its good
too ugly for views

prisons too important
for me, the left overs

i was the addiction
now another contraception
hailing ghosts
tangled in timecards
under hung
and still voting
to take my spots

your own demons
give you strength
when there’s no one
to hold onto
that’s why they’re
so hard to let go.
your demons reek fire,
and your energy flares to life,
angry hatred is stronger than ever.

i always thought,
the darkness fed on me.
hunted me, like prey.
made me weaker,
made me lose control.

i realise now —
darkness did nothing.
i did.

i offered myself up
on a plate,
walking paths
i'd already worn thin.
it’s all my fault.
it’s all on me.

what a freakish thing —
blaming my wrongdoings
on him.

if anything,
darkness is a mate
i owe an apology to.

i didn’t mean to bad-mouth you,
when you’re the only one
carrying me
on your back,
when i get deep,
dark blue.