Poison put in a sacred chamber
seeps into its pores.

There is a dark storm on the horizon -
Let's have fun.
The storm will never come.

Swift, numbing winds blow
across the arid plain
with a hushed belligerence.
They are bringing the storm this way.
Familiar foes fill the empty space.
The storm is back.
First, the wind blows me back
And I am numb.
And I am gone.

After the winds, the storm hits.
Days go by.
Then, the storm is gone,
and I can see the sun.
I can see the sun,
but I cannot feel it on my face.
The storm is inside me
where the sun cannot reach.
Forever, I will carry the storm.
I will wait for the next wind to blow
So at least I can feel numb.

This poison.

emptiness swims through my veins. irrelevant thoughts cloud my brain. numbness lives in my finger tips.

Tempest raging in my soul
was quieted down
by the autumnal numbness

There are some things that are not meant to be seen
Some things that were made to remain hidden
To remain in the darkness, covered, unsaid
Some things that I keep hidden even from myself
Things that, were they to appear,
Could break me
.
There are good times, when I forget
Times when I convince myself those things are not there
That I read them in a poem, or a book, or a song
Good times when all of that seems foreign and distant
Those are the days I have the strength to breathe, to laugh,
To live.
.
But there are days when those are the only things I see
The only things I hear, the only things that reign in me
Those are the days when I forget  how light looks like
When I forget what the beating of my heart sounds like
And all I hear are the voices inside me,
And I silently scream.
.
And there are days when there’s a strange peace
An odd balance, a numbness, a greyness spreading inside me
Days when everything is muffled and blurry and barely there
Those are my favourite days, the days when I’m barely there
The days when I don’t need to remember to breathe,
To not die.

“I am stubborn,
Stubborn enough to the point that if you decide to break my heart,
I’d still love you with all the pieces,
I’d still choose you over and over,
Yes, I am just stubborn like that,
—To the point of numbness and self-destruction.”

I am living without you
as without a lover

as without the sun
or the moon

my being is an empty,
cold house

through which only the wind blows
occasionally you come to me

dimly as a ghost in a dream
& I wish never to wake

only to feel you rule me
shake me, quake me

or not feel, rather
but only dimly remember

Today wasted on rage
Tomorrow too distant
Yesterday a blast and matters not.
And you?
Didn't notice me standing by your side
Even when you kicked me around.
Pathetic.
(me more than you).
Shame Is the sister of tolerance
Which is the brother of victim
And the mother of choice less
Right now,  in this precarious moment,
I've discovered how bitter true  
it is...
that we all
pay dearly
for the sins of our father.