the death: beginning
last night
a part of me died
and i hadn't realized it was taking its last final breath
until i finally couldn't feel it anymore
no amount of music, no amount of talking would blur it out
once again, a death in silence
i couldn't even cry or remorse for what i lost
such parts have died before
but this was my last try(i said so)
and it just hurt so much
i slept with a hollow
woke up with overwhelming numbness
feeling so, so blue
like you could hit me, and i'd cry for what of me died
not because of the pain
because it didn't even hurt—just went numb
and by that—
it hurt so much i didn’t have words
i laughed, went for a walk, listened to music, tried to talk
nothing.
it wasn't going to return.
it was gone.
the urge
like when light leaves the dying’s eyes
like when you watch someone take their final breath,
realize it's never going to come back
like a candle flickering for one last time—
the spoiled wax, of no point
like a bulb going out, its ligament being torn
like a child growing up, having seen oh so much—
they just don’t have any dreams anymore
a part of me died
and today i organize its funeral
with no watchers, no stand-bys
just like always
and to think i'd gotten anywhere
with understanding and accepting—
nowhere.
not even with people,
because they're the ones who killed me
the urge to make the call, ask—beg—why’d you **** me like that?
but just—who would even understand?
i can't even see the screen, writing this with a vision so blurry
eyes so swollen—i even breathe funny
i woke up
wanted to sleep
chose to get up
wish i could’ve slept, because i’ve been crying since
it’s been hours
i was lying curled up
begging for someone to listen
to hold—to just tell me that it’s alright
that i still can be loved like i’m whole
and the funny thing—
i’ve reached the number of deaths
no one in one lifetime could have caused them all
but i let people do it—
the same way, the same streaks
the acceptance
no hopes anymore
no positivity—
it’s just difficult
how do you suppose i can just get back up?
i taste the salt in my tears
find my nose runny
i went back to where i fought so hard to get out from
i felt it—
the death
how it went from barely breathing
to not breathing at all
how it went from staying still at the edge of hope
to crashing against all borders and falling off
how it felt like i’d been drowned, thrown, teared through, broken, dissipated
i—i just can’t
i’ll stop crying in a bit
and just go back to living
except with another part of me dead
i don’t even know how i shall mourn her death
too dumb, but she just had hopes
i’ll wipe my nose, wipe away my tears
get the ice-pack to bring down the swelling
for once drained, once it’s all out
either way, i’ll be a shell of what i’ve been all this while
a bit more hollow on the inside
this time it made no noise
the fall seemed to be never-ending
usually i heard it break, scatter—
the fragments and shards—i picked them up piece by piece
but this time—
it just fell
freefall?
i’m barely alive now
as long as this body exists
with the slightest of life on it
there will be no mourners for all the parts of me that are no more
the questioning
i’m a museum of everything i’ve ever loved
and there’s graves within me
of places where i lost a part of me
and often i don’t remember them all
but sometimes, when a situation asks one kind of mine
i step by the graveyard of my own self
and often mourn them myself
i meet people
and i give them some bits of me
ones i didn’t know existed long before i’d met the person in front of me
and then that part stays with them
they decide—often unknowingly—that it’s in their pocket
on their shoulder, in their fist
somehow never close enough to reside in their mind or heart
and yet sometimes
these parts get lost in people
watching them leave
often they’re simply handed back
sometimes they’re killed
and i need no understanding of how i end up giving them out
like handing candies to children on a halloween night
uncaring who gets which one, no favoritism
blindly trusting, i just head straight right in
always unknown what and how much they hold of mine
i didn’t even plan on trusting or attaching
and yet somehow i did
and then i’m left with nothing but the mere spirit
feeling the hollow
and the lost
how do i not cave in to death
and keep going on like a fool?
how do i live on when i'm barely alive anymore?
the dreaming
grief is sickening, like long aged sour frosting
numbness woven into it, disturbing and devasting and what not
it breathes like something real, coils in the pit of my stomach leaving my body to ache in silence, to reel, feel, and fear
sometimes i feel like i'm stitched together by borrowed light
but then i ain't any moon—perhaps a starlight?
there's parts of me made of people and moments that weren't even meant to stay
and in return all the pieces i gave of myself
so it would be right to say i'm a mismatched puzzle, always missing, never complete
this light burns, seethes, flickers, garbles, echoes
this grief doesn't scream, it lingers
like the perfume that i once used to wear
and that old teddy bear to hug
on nights when i used to feel hollowed
it wraps around my bones
around my muscles and my organs
especially my heart and my lungs
and it squeezes in tight, like a rope that's being pulled from both sides
the knot just seems to grow in size, blindness coming around my eyes
only i know it exists, this grief—
as it breathes under my laughter, only i can feel it
it splinters every single breath i try to take
ghosts all my memories, makes me want to forget
like a constant static—this pain is immense
i've got invisible bruises, oh so many—
you'd see them clearer if you were to see the way my eyes lie in their residues
the death: end
i carry my dead
like folded crushed paper notes that i don't wanna let go of
from the maybe's to the it's never happening
it seemed to be something, now it's a sad little nothing
oh so broken, everywhere i go
i offer parts of me like i'm a free use and throw tissue
but what can i do?
when they never ask for how i am—
only ask of me, how can i help?
went down the lane of thoughts—one that busied my mind and made the voices stop
they blurred, i held the blade in my hand, even my mind stuttered
you've been away and strong for so long, not again
but the pain was immense
yesterday a piece of me had died
and today i was told to
how could i possibly accept all this sorrow
and feel my heart do the free falls again and again?
i have three cuts
not proper—the blade was too weak
i tried to write 'loser'
got stuck at the e
lost myself
returned to and wondered:
perhaps i've got a thick skin
disgusts me—my own head
i still keep on wondering
why can’t i just be dead
this could go on and on
i live in a paradox
despise, wanting to still be alive
deny, wanting to die, despite my tries
a misfit in the world of those who seem to be natural
at finding their own places
i have no one to call my own
why would anyone even want me as their own?
0906-1006, yesterday was supposed to be 9, today 10 but i post it on 1106, please remind me of my death
