Lost in the illusion
Of this painting they called life,
A small girls sits shivering
In the corner of her bathroom floor
...
Inside of this masterpiece
The girl paints more of just that,
Her tears watercolors on the canvas
Of the tiles lining the bathroom floor
...
These tiles now cold and hard
Eating away like acid on her cool flesh,
The comfort of the childhood memories
All washed away from within the walls
That once gave her peace of mind.
Bubble baths turned to ****** ones
As she brings her art to life
...
The words thrown at her
Outside of the world in her bathroom
Now painted red in bold font
Inside a canvas unseen
By anyone but the bitter ghost
Left to rot in the corners of the stone walls
Under the bubbles of the water
That ate away at her crimson tainted flesh
...
The tears stop falling
While the water still runs
Over her treacherous heartbeat,
Down the curves of her spine
As she desperately attempts
To wash away her sins
Not knowing the paint was permanent
Forever etched into her skin
Burning demons into her own canvas
...
Years later,
After many hidden portraits..

Her fragile body aches
As she paints one more masterpiece
To tie the rest of her canvases together.
And with a final stroke of her brush
A tear slips down her face
Rejoicing in how long her art lived
In secrecy before she ran out of paint
...
  She finally paints her signature
  Onto the tiles of her bathroom floor
  Her legacy or a warning to those stuck like her
  The world won't ever come to know
  All they knew was her heart ran out
  Of words to say and canvases to paint
  As she took her last breath and spelled out
           **Mise en Abyme

I'm sitting in the car
I'm sitting in the dark
I don't want to go in
to leave this place
this safe space
I want to curl into a ball
to leave
to go somewhere else
Why?
I don't know
my home isn't broken
the people in that house aren't hurting
but I don't want to be in that place
not even in my bed
in my room
alone

I'm sitting in my car
I'm sitting in the dark
staring at the light soaking through the walls
stress hanging from the rooftop like christmas *****
I just want the dark
the small dark
somewhere else
anywhere else
the lights look like spotlites
I don't want spotlites
I want small dark and alone
I want away
far away
to escape
somewhere they can't find me
where they'll never find me

I'm sitting in the floor under my stearing wheel
I'm depressing into the dark

I tripped over your ill
angled shoe..
Face planting the floor..
scuff marked pride,
as I got up stupid woman,
I uttered this under my breath...

I tripped over your ill
angled shoe..
coffee in hand,
a master of balance..
Not one droplet spilt,
but I saw you awkwardly
gaze at me, and I smiled.

The next few days,
I took another path.
missing your haphazard
           feet entrapping my gaze..
I pondered the view,
the reason for my needing to  
                                        stumble...

Walking past where you sat,
                      now vacant.
I was glum at the thought
of you not fumbling my stance.
Collecting myself on days past,
I walked a new path to my office.

I tripped over your ill
angled shoe..
Face planting the floor..
scuff marked pride.
Getting up I asked you
a question..

"I've fallen for you so many times
               I think I'm in love,

You can only fall so many times
before you realise that its love.
I showed the marks that I'd
fallen for you,
                  more than most would.

It was suddenly twenty-eight minutes
                 after three in the morning,
and I found myself in your bedroom.
     Your sheets were cheap and creased,
                     your quilt was older than you,
                   and your pillow cases didn't match.
There were three pillows, and you had all of them.
                                                                ­       I didn't mind.

Your breathing was the steadiest thing in your life right now,
              and your back rose and fell
                          as regularly as your hopes did in the daytime.

                    There was nothing on your back -
           whatever was there
an indefinite number of hours previously
     had joined the convention of disorganized stress on the floor
              that slept a mere seven and a half inches from us.

                      The mattress was as warm as we were,
           and the whole of it held tightly to the scratched hardwood floor
that was probably still owned by those that lived here before you.

                                                           There was an appalling lack
                                            of glow-in-the-dark stars
                              on your dull, cracked ceiling.

did you cry as hard as me ,

when you broke me
on the floor
that night ?

heaving chest ,
i screamed and screamed
and hoped
you'd see me
on that red
red carpet ,
heaving .

i bled for hours thinking
you'd notice and
sew me up ,

as you always do ,
.
did .

but you have never felt the way
i felt ,

and you didn't .

She loved me more
even though she saw me lying on the floor
She gave me her hand
even though she knew i couldn't stand
She gave me her heart
even though she knew mine was just a painful blot
She loved me in darkness,
She loved me in rain,
She loved me in vain,
She loved me in loneliness,
She loved my pain,
even which I couldn't contain
So I wish her the sun
I wish her the moon
I wish her good days
I wish her a summer noon

Warming up like an electric orchestra,
the sound of your dad’s band practice seeped
through the vents from the basement.
Drums vibrated from the floor into my feet,
And we tapped our toes together,
thump thump thump.

Drowning out the 80’s punk, your mom
plays polka in the kitchen, making pasta. I stand
over the sauce stained stove watching the *** of water
sizzle to accordion cries and the idea of clogs. We sway
from side to side. Your hands hang off my hips.

Retreating, back to your blue room, we wait
for the wafting smells of garlic, grilled onions and
peppers to call us for dinner. You pull out your
keyboard, a pen, a pad. Pressing buttons, I hear
synthesizers and song samples through your
headphones. We smile, bobbing our heads in sync,
Bump, bump, bump.

~

Finding myself in a foreign living room,
I am alone. The TV is on mute and a “motivational”
speech muffles through his speakers. There are no
basement bands. No pasta, no polka, or clogs and cries.
Only sounds of silence. I press my feet against the floor.
I can’t hear the bumps, I can’t feel the thumps

Do not take the pastures of our life away,
Come water the dying shrubs of our heart,
Let the creatures of our soul be strong to play,
Ignite within us the dark and lonely path,

Come and rebuild the forests of our skin,
Prevent the desert from taking over our peace,
Let your fury to destroy overlook our supposed sin,
For we are longing for a fountain's kiss.

Rejoice, rejoice my friends in the realm,
For our saviour has come to heal us all,
Our roots have touched his cloth's hem,
We have secured a future where none will fall,

The rivers of life have watered the forest floor,
Our green friends will surely rise again,
Our suppressed voices shall once again roar,
As we celebrate the final end of our pain.