We perceive things differently—
hugging them only in ways we know how.
And so, we barely meet halfway.
Still, words are thrown,
beaten,
slitting open wounds that once lay sleeping,
penetrating an abyss
barely concealed by a fragile veil.

Even so, I stand here today—
a sentimental fool, as always,
apprehending every situation that fits,
viewing each one as an opportunity to grow
through experience.

I’m a walking insult.
I’m a *******.
I’m a ******* mistake.

No, that felt too dignifying.

Is that more than what I deserve?

Did that make you laugh?

Your jokes describe me too well.

I nod with every letter said.

I feel my face flush scarlet

So ashamed I change —

real defining clue of myself —

like a snake skin sheds.

I want to be dehumanised.

I  want to be violated

I want them to forget me.

I want to be an empty vessel.

I want to slit my throat.

I don’t want your warm affection.

Now my dreams echo hollow.
Every night, my head against the pillow,
revising every morsel I swallowed,
hoping there is no tomorrow —

As I walk to join the hanging bodies in the gallows.
They laugh and frolic in the sun with their slim waists.

You say I’m kind. Considerate,

but I just want your validation.

I’m a narcissist to the core.

Hope I’m not the bile in your throat,

or the acid that burns your hollow heart.

Did that make you laugh?

I was always in such a rush
to find the trick behind it all.
I wanted to understand
how ants divide labor, and
how vacuum cleaners **** dust.

I wanted someone
to pat me on the shoulder and tell me: -congratulations,
you cracked the code-
it’s all downhill from here.

I looked for answers
in text books, YouTube,
Late night debates
with my smartest friends
in the parking lot
of that Burger King no longer exists,
Feminist slam poetry
with a bunch of middle class revolutionaries,
Recorded post-modern philosophy classes, and every
self
help
book out there.

I listened to all the theories,
read all the arguments.
stitch them into
a patchwork blanket /
theory of everything.

But I still can’t explain:
- Why I wake up on this bed all alone?
- What took you out of my arms?
- How did we drift 855km away?
- When will it all make sense?
- What is all this ******* pain for?

Can someone please tell me.

Drowning in your sorrows
Does it not make your heart feel hollow?
That feeling of emptiness once you finish that bottle and now your thoughts are more awful.
Your words bite me but yeah your message has been received.
Your tongue becomes toxic and your venom is making me grieve
Grieving for the mother that went astray, I wished the old you could've had stayed.
That sweet soul that is now out of control; now your heart is made out of coal.
Your eyes burn through mine as you scream and cry,  while you wait for me to give you a reply.
I have nothing to say except
I wish I didn't have to see my mother this way.

What songbird?
thought my bucks and belts
might make air cowboy
soft embrace landing

buck the rest &
bite the wrist right
scrape knuckle on cheek
cutie

I've heard cranes creak
less in your ears than
when I said it all
everywhere

Stale
I have gone stale
On the inside
Failed
To connect
In my mind
I reject
Disappointment
Lingering,
Drowning
In those halls of whispers,
Which I condemn,
Wanting to leave
Leave
Leave
Leave it all behind.
All at once.

Are you scared? Do you share the same curiosities?  

I do wonder... and I wonder if you wonder.... 

Quite often, you flick through my mind like a lighter being lit. 

The flame serving it's purpose until it's put down. 

Sparking cigarettes, cones, spots, incense. 

We joke a lot and they're over the boundary jokes. But I do catch myself hoping that you don't joke quite the same way... with anyone else. I'd call it close friends... and it could ALMOST pass as flirting. But I'm scared to make assumptions... 

I sit here at home and you flick across my thoughts, not quite daily... but where it used to be the day I seen you and the day after... now it's at random intervals. I don't sit here assuming I cross yours. But I wonder if I do at all... well not wonder really... it's more a hope.
At times, when I find your flame lighting, I like to watch how long it burns before it goes out. So far it's lasted this time for 7 hours. That's a record. 
Last week and all the previous ones, the once a fortnight get together (visit) was only affecting me the day of and after. the longer the gap in seeing or hearing from you... the better for me to focus on other things. 
I don't  know how your life has worked for you. Regarding relationships.... or friendships of the opposite ***. Have you ever lost anyone that you kind of devoted your soul to?  
To understand the heaviness of loss for me, I'd have to take you wayyyyyy back. Back to a place of vulnerability. The problem with doing that, is: not that I don't trust you.... it's a little bit of pre-concieved notions that people just don't care enough to delve right back into how someone's life was shaped... and even if you were different (like one in a thousand) (like me) there's a problem where you could not remain impartial to the people involved... and there's the problem of shaking like a 5 year old...as I begin to unravel who I am, for the sake f you... only for you to give up on me like everyone does. 

I get it, people come and go... it's easier not to love, open up or fall... and each flick of the lighter will eventually burn me. Playing with fire hurts... even though flames warm a cold room... 

and then there's C-PTSD to boot.... which consists of intrusive emotions when recounting a life shifting trauma...there's too much buried inside of me, I dont think we should dig. 

I get my flashbacks... but instead of images (which I sometimes get) every time I recount an event or try to explain a behaviour that stems from that. Emotions attached to it,  swarm me... and I'm feeling the fear, pain and damages all over again, like I'm right back there... and all of a sudden if I'm trying to explain something like the weight of loss, abandonment, etc... I go back to the first time I  was lost and abandoned... then I'm feeling the emotions again like I'm a little kid (vulnerability, fear, loneliness, alienation)

it's like a vault full of suppressed emotions gets unlocked and they start running rampant in my mind and heart... and only if I feel 100% safe, secure, sure and absolutely completely trust the other person I'm about to invest any given event in... would I then subject myself to the torment and feelings of being 4 again...

That's where the feelings begin though and not where they end. History does have a way of haunting us, following us... like a predisposed possession. Like our own personal ghost, trying to live the life it never got. Trying to experience love, but not knowing what it is. Destined to repeat the pattern in some desperate attempt at acceptance, but asking for it in all the wrong places. 

 Then there's all the other life lessons and losses I've experienced along the way that (for a normal person, are part of day to day life) attach themselves like a leech to some particular emotion... reminding you how it feels to love someone that doesn't love you... or punching you in the chest with a fist full of memories, attached to how it feels to be abandoned by someone you put your faith in... Thinking you were finally important to someone... something you've needed since you were born. 

C-PTSD as you know... stems from a situation where you were traumatised repeatedly, over an extended period of time... to which there was no hope of escape for the victim. 

My earliest remembered trauma starts at the age of 5. My latest trauma was 5 feb 2017



Emotions are my enemy. You can love me, but don't let me LOVE YOU.