Head exploding
life seems too fast
to find out what I'm thinking
I wonder if my strength
is going to last.

I crawled into bed
with you last night
first time in years
we've been segregated
by my exhaustion
and my fears.

To feel your flesh again
made my headache worth it
but nothing will take away
the ache that I feel
for the love of myself.

Self acceptance is what I need
I'm better than I thought
but the lingering mistrust
of how I'm going to be
scuppers me at every turn.

If I could just relax
on the inside
and let my self be happy
I think I would be happier.

It hurts my brain
Oh what a pain!
Soon I might need a crane
my back hurts like hell!
If only I could hide inside a shell
and block everything for a little while
cause everything's in a huge pile

for once
(i think)
I'd like to
get lost
in the crowd
instead of
getting lost
in
my **mind

Bump, bump
in my skull.
Causing me to slump
while listening to the dull
thump, thump.*
Pressure building in my head,
threatening to break.
these things, I always dread.
This is why it’s called a headache.

The migraine calls like God; thunder over mountain
Rolling deep dark echoes, and shaking up the ice
To fall like sharp daggers, dropping points on my eye.
I fall hard to my knees, and pray to stop the pain.

All other thoughts eclipsed, as pain becomes like suns
Exploding in my head, burning through my brain
To leave a charred vessel, too fragile to even move
As ash becomes my skin, and stardust is my lungs.

I practise ritual, I pray so hard it hurts,
I try to straighten form, and breathe in gentle rolls,
Call on Alexander, and all my other roles
That work sporadically; they sometimes just desert.

Destructive forces leer, like imps upon a ledge;
They're grinning ear to ear, as I consider death
To free me from this pain. They know that I can't last
A moment more than this; I'm on the razor's edge.

I feel their fingers close, squeeze my protesting throat;
I grit my teeth and scream, forcing air into my lungs.
And as the pain recedes, I see them standing there,
Patient in their defeat, they leave a passing note:

You can think that we've gone, but it's just a gap in time.
The prayers will come and go, but we are always here,
So smile and take a breath, and master all your fears
Before we gather strength, and strike when you are fine.

Where were you, you little *******?
Where were you hiding
As I turned out the lights last night?

Were you in the closet as I came into the bedroom?
Did you seep like a flood
Across the floor in the darkness
Rising up the leg of the bed
And into my ears like liquid toxic waste?

Were you under the pillow
And as my fingers slid under there
Between the crisp, smooth layers of white cotton?
Did you coil about my fingers
And up my arm
To spread over my scalp
All fuming-acid corrosive?

Were you in under the folds
Of the welcoming, white-striped comforter
As we turned in after a perfectly pleasant day?
Waiting, still, in the dark
As I pulled the blankets up taught?
And just below my chin
As the cold sheets around me warmed
To stop the just-into-bed shivers?

Did you crawl up then as I dozed
And twist around my throat
To tighten slowly until I awoke in your grip?

Where ever you were hiding,
You got the drop on me.
You turned the tiny dim lights
That peek into the room at night
Into piercing lasers.

You amplified the tiniest odours
Into dizzying, eye-watering stenches.

You traded the rising-sun's rays
As they finally pierced the curtains
After my hours of sleepless discomfort
For a blasts of neutron-bomb radiation.

Worst of all
You stole the cool, soothing side of the pillow
Every time I managed to find it
Giving me instead a sickly, warm bundle of gorse.

Where were you, you little *******?
Where were you hiding?

Slow and paced, like the waves of a lulling beach;
helplessly at the whim of chance. Nothing but
anticipation to tell when the crest will come or
when the water will draw back, revealing the
soulless ocean's raw skin like the soft belly of
an exterior peony petal. The collision of water
and rock, a spray that deliciously cools my
forehead, the back of my neck, the space under
my arms... a single bead that runs from my
hairline to run effortlessly over my temple and
over the rolling hills of my cheek. It whispers to
me in the recesses of my head, pulsing with the
increased beating of my heart like a child's
first drum now pounded upon like a war call.
The crest comes as expected, rushing the silent
sand and coating my eyelids in salty kisses as
I lay awake in this bed so far from the sea.