The past is just a lie
Your words will not surmise
To be or not to be
I wish it was that easy



© Sofia Villagrana 2018

Bloodstains staring back at me,
Illuminating every part warmly.
Blanketing the entire floor,
Ingrained into each pore.
Disinfect to a high degree.

It feels like a trial.
Like everyone knows you're guilty
And yet they still want to hear you defend yourself
Because they still want to know
For whatever reason

"Do you like your pain?", They ask.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

"So all of this... is what you want. Like you don't even want to get better."

"No."

"Why do you keep feeling sorry for yourself? You know it's not getting you anywhere."

"Yeah. I do know that. But I don't know how to get out of it."

"It's so easy."

"You can't possibly know how difficult this has been for me. For 4 months --"

"Stop making excuses, whether or not you spent the last 4 months feeling like **** doesn't mean a **** thing. You did that all on your own. And yet you are refusing help."

"Because I still believe I can do this myself."

"And how well has that worked?"

"Please stop."

"Should we call a witness?"

"NO. Please no. I'm begging you."

The whole court stares at me
The witnesses are in sight, waiting to place the blame on somebody...anybody

I can hear thunder outside the courthouse.
It's about time we had a storm.

"Please don't call a witness.
I can tell you everything
And you'll know that it's true because nobody will object saying that I'm wrong. This isn't that kind of case.
But they do not need to answer for my crimes, nobody here does except for me. The person who committed those crimes. Justice... right?"

I have told this story so many times

I might as well start crying again

I feel like the witnesses won't even defend me. I don't give them a reason to
I don't even say their names
Even if I keep someone anonymous
The truth will come out
And everyone will know

But it won't solve anything
And I will continue to feel like I'll never be happy
Because this trial... has changed my life
I guess it still is
Because it doesn't feel like I've even left the stand.

The feeling that something is missing is not only a feeling of loss,
but also an evidence to the fact that something like this also happened in the past.
Past is an experience
Present is what you have
Future uncertain
Desire will always remain in life, irrespective of the fact as to whether it’s past, present or else with regards to the future
The only difference been a change in it’s form and way.

I will drag my knife along your skin,
sharp blade down into your fragile, shaking canvas,
incising an increasing beat of whimpers and whines.
Please hold still. I promise this will hurt.

I will expose your clattering bones,
rip out your chattering teeth,
erase every impugned utterance
you muttered against me.
I will carve my letters slowly
on your unzipped frame,
sliding the burgundy blood across to
blot
       clot
              dot.    

This is only preparation for what is about to follow.

I will puncture your throbbing organs,
slash your stretched cartilage
with an unwritten script.
Before I press further,
I’ll assure you, you are still alive.

I will twist each phrase,
haunt you to believe it is your fault,
force you to beg the slightest escape.
I will permanently etch my name
deep in the frozen chambers
of your quivering heart.

I will open up the blueprint as a demolition expert,
remove whole fractions of your fractured soul,
leave you a horrid wreck in the abyss
of a mess you just made.

You will not get rid of me,
though no trace of evidence is left behind.

My hands have been clean from the start.

**** on the insides
**** on the outsides
waitin on a ride
to bury all the evidence
the defense you provide
is irrelevant
its starting to make sense
cant get any change
cant even afford this game
but hey, what the **** do i care?
you aint got no one else to blame

So stop acting all scared
Step in the rain
Ill-prepared
Aint no drain in these streets
We all drown
Double dare
Hold our breath
Close and near
To the throat of society population is eyein me
describing me quietly in closed circles conspiring
Dying nice and clean was a righteous dream in a ***** mind
find the irony
I'm getting high while lighting leaves deep in fall while falling deep

All this air surrounding me
Weighing me down,
I gotta find out how to relieve the oxygen building up around me
It's intoxicating just seeing you breathe
Takin a breath, hold it in deep
count to ten, do it again
Countin them sheep until im back to sleep
prayin not to wake up again
oh lordy here he is
my soul to keep

Asleep on the highway of life til i hear beeps my alarm clock keeps me grounded and enemies weak
Pound my fist into the cheeks of these clowns been down for weeks painting frowns with tears that leaked

Drowning in the aftermath of all the facts found in the fine print of the devils contracts
Tryna relax, but my mind is spying and I can't control these subconscious mental acts

Knowing that my peers are sheep control will mold em obsolete
I pull the switch admire beef entirely
My tires screech arrive at scenes with knives that gleam
Its a nightly thing
Keep my guillotine shinin clean
Frightening
That ever time my slate is wiped up clean
The blood stains come back violently

It's a sight to see that no matter how much bleach I use to clean up my speech
There's still an outline showin the shape of every time I thought the only eyes that could see me were mine
Its piling around me, this evidence about to drown me, only good thing is aint nobody found me