I always walk into social settings not knowing the right way to smile.

the last time I was out, it was a funeral

where uncles and fathers waited for the body quietly,

where mothers and aunts divided their time

sizing up every girl who walked in fresh,

evaluating the contents of moroseness on her face.

did her nail paint make her look well-maintained

and yet purposefully unaware of her manicure?

her clothes, were they the right balance of panache and mourning?

and what about her mannerisms? is she polite and demure,

is she the girl next door? is she an acquaintance? is she family?

well, if she is, why isn’t she in the right colours?

how bold of her to wear eyeliner!

her mother ought to have taught her these things.

cue scrutinizing the parent, the birth giver:

at least she’s wearing white clothes. her fingernails are light pink?

eyebrows rise up in the odd combination of judgement, approval , and the tiniest hint of contempt.

the grandmothers come out from the woodwork

because their experience and expertise in death is unparalleled by the young:

they seize responsibility of the rituals,

tutting at the slightest deviations of the routine they’re well-versed in.

what a business they make of death.

the loss isn’t theirs to feel, the life isn’t theirs to grieve.

‘the head faces the north, the toes to the south! don’t spill the grains unevenly! come, let me tilt open the mouth so you can quench the thirst of the dead with holy water.’

they know it all, those devious grown-up so-and-so’s. we’re still too alive for their acquiescence. they’re so assured in their rites, they’d take over from you at their own deathbed.

they’re watching you very closely, don’t you forget.

they’re not here for the deceased, they’re here to inspect.

I stay under the radar with my tight-lipped smile,

they may not live for too long, but I’ll be here for a while.

The curtains twitch... in my street,
They pretend to be rich... in my street,
The gossips thrive... in my street,
But they’re barely alive... in my street,

The big cars come and go,
They all reap what they sow,
They pretend and they trick,
Atmosphere is so thick,
I’m the **** of their jokes,
And they pinch, and they poke,
But they fail to agree,
That I see what I see,
What I see, is the truth,
I will shout from the roof,
They can’t judge me at all,
For I’ve seen where they crawl,
but my lips they stay tight,
For there will come a night,
When they will see me see,
And they’ll understand me,

People talk... in my street,
People stalk... in my street,
A massive game... in my street,
We’re all the same... in my street..

You're a floated Liver of sins, my friend
When you disrobe in-front of the mirror-unmarred
You find yourself bloated and ill hued
The excess soil in your cuss
has stoppered
What you’ve amassed in free wanting
has driven you into a clot
Your consumption has padded you to reach a total
and all you can do is amount upon the scale of mammal judgement
and feast upon your grave
Look to your pillow and it’s embroideries !
Can you make out the words ?
‘A pleasured out beast of glut and ego
Unwealthy and devoid’

“You have to be strong”
“You are not trying hard enough”

You m-o-t-h-e-r-*******-e-r.

Do you think I want to drown myself in self-destructive thoughts?
Do you think I want to spend every night wide awake trembling with fear?

I am literally doing everything I can.
Even when every fibre of my being wants to give up and just die.

Thank you for adding more guilt and making me feel even more worthless.

You ignorant and judgemental piece of *******.

27/03/2019

Maybe I didn’t do it right.
Maybe I didn’t wait long enough.
Time let’s things fall into place,
And I wonder sometimes if they could have if I just insisted against the race.
I let your eagerness fill me with fear,
But I could’ve let my heart be more clear.

It hurts everytime I see you.
It hurts knowing I am uncertain.
Interest is rare these days,
And I often fear the lack of my
Judgment due to my idealistic ways.
I just hope you know you’re more than enough,
I can’t bear the weight of your heart in haze.

If I could live my life just to repair my mistakes...
To turn left when I went right or right when I should have gone left...
To unhurt those I have hurt...
I think I would be one hundred and eighty nine when I was done.
How can so many lifetimes bear the knowing of me?
Even but briefly.
Cause and effect, choice and consequence.... the physics of human non physicality.

The light peaks through
Wanting to be recognized
Craving acceptance
Seeking acknowledgement

Because it’s the outside world that determines your fate
Are you exceptional or just another mistake

Damaged ***** wasted on life
Shut your mouth
Listen up
And play nice

it’s no secret
that i’m short
it’s always been that way
and it will always be that way
stuck at 4’9 forever

and by the laws of physics
or science
or whatever
i don’t really
take up much space

but ever since i was young
i couldn’t help but feel
that i was too much
i took up too much of the room
around me

so a lots of times
there were these thoughts
always playing, like static
telling me how
to take up less space
or make less noise
and become even more
invisible

pull your arms closer
tuck them in your lap
tip toe, so floorboards
don’t creak under your steps
don’t move
keep still
and most definitely
do not let any words slip from your mouth
because any noise, and movement
brings attention
and attention brings judgement
from the people around you
so just blend in
and be invisible
never take up too much space

but that was not living
and i’m sad it’s taken this long to realize
that my existence is too beautiful
to be invisible
and blend in among the crowd
so i will stomp the ground
and shake the earth beneath
i will laugh and
shout and dance
and let everyone know that i am here
because i am worthy
of taking up space
-2/12/2019