I’ve got all my fingers,
The knife goes CHOP CHOP CHOP

If I miss the spaces in between,
My fingers will come off!

Slit, slit, slit, slit, slit, slit, slit,
I’m picking up the speed.

If I miss the spaces in between,
My wrists will surely bleed.

i am
just another stain
another ****** stain
on a shirt
on a bandage
dripping onto the floor
because no one caught it in time
another stain to wipe away

i am
just another mark
another ****** mark
on my bed
on my hands
dripping onto the floor
because it hurts to open my mouth
another mark that just won't scrub out

i am
just another cut
another ****** cut
on my arms
on my legs
dripping onto the floor
because feeling pain is better than feeling nothing
another cut that won't heal right

Tis the season to be dying
Not too jolly are the lines I'm writing
The hymns mimic my weeping soul
A tune strung with a broken bow

Frail lullabies drenched in sorrow
Wilting with the fading greens
We inhale clouds of dusty air
Cold and fragile as my spine

Tingling numbness in my heart
Like frost bites from within
The finale of an orchestra
An epilogue of sorts

Wintry hails in my disturbed mind
Raining like misfired bullets
From a shoddy gun
Burning letters into my hands

The poetry I craft not pretty
Lacking tales of sugarcoated reality
Mostly **** and somewhat edgy
Infused with truth and too much realitys

I can choose how heavily this weighs upon me

I can pick the weight pressing more and more upon my shoulders
Or I can pick feathers to carry

I can choose turmoil, churning me up from the inside
Or I can choose to walk in grace

I can pick minutes so long they never seem to end
Or I can pick days that slip through my fingers

I can choose a mind filled with a thousand games
Or I can choose saved brains

I can pick a heart heavy with all my cares
Or I can pick the promises of God.

I choose peace.

I can feel my teeth,
Grinding against my lips
Pale and dry
Flaking between each drag

I can feel my hair,
Long and damaged
Swaying against my knotted neck
Hear the quiet swoosh

I can feel each breath I take,
Cold air rushing in
Fills charred lungs
Only to leave in urgency
Dancing in the stagnant room

I can feel my shaking hands
I can feel my swirling thoughts
I can feel the sharpness of the blade
I can feel the sting of friction

So, then…

Why can’t I feel anything at all?

My mind isn't black
More of a dark blue
Like a bruise
Just beginning to heal

The way I breathe
Not at all
And then all at once
Is painfully inconsistent

How you assumed
I was okay
Could not have been further
From the truth

I slipped so quickly
Into that dark place
But it's all in my head
Someone please let me out

I wish I could live in the same house
As my brothers and my little sisters
I wish I could sleep under the same roof
As my family does

I wish the same shingles that cover my birth giver
And the same blankets that cover my male parental unit
Covered me

I wish.

But, there are a few things that come between
The intentional emotional detachment
The loving abusive comments
The lying, aggression and confrontation, those definitely factor in

But you know when God closes a door he opens a window
But when you don't have a door to lock and hide behind, God can't close it.

But the creepy old man
Who's touched me
And tried to touch me
The way my mouth taste like metal when I bite my tongue to keep from screaming in fustration
The way my body freezes as his claws dig into my leg
The way my mind breaks down like crumbs of a cookie

That is to much to bear.

I have a question.

?.

When you got your Daddy card did you skip over the fine print? Did you forget your glasses so that you couldn't read? Did you just skim over it to fast so that it didn't register? You know, the part where it says protection?

Provision. You got that down pat. No doubt about it. But I mean 50%? That's not a pass by any grading system.

Daughter.
It slips off the end of my tongue and tries to crawl back in. So many times have I had to retreat within myself because I was not under your wings.

Do I love you? Yes.
Do I trust you? Not with a spoon.
Not with my heart, not with myself.

Does that sadden my soul? Oh Lord does it ever.
I wish it was another way.
I wish I could live in your house.
But a house of hell is not one I can call home.

-Xoxo