Kiva 1d
Nothing more sickening than a love song,
Nothing more false, more shallow, more untrue than a love song,
That sentimental shit, that clusterfuck shithouse churning it dials and nobs,
Blistering on the back of your car seat,
"I think I'm going to be sick" you say,
"I think I'm going to be sick."

Change the channel,
Turn it off.


Don't you think I need some time alone?
Don't you ever ask?

About my thoughts, their rhythm,
Their bend and snap,
Their pulse?

Don't you ever wonder about my dreams,
About the man who lurks, a deep crease in the circuit, a cut on my sleeve.

What did you say? What was that? I can't hear you, the lines bad.

The timings wrong.

Do you have signal?  

I need to be alone -

I.
This is for each time
They told me I was only good with words.
Maybe I did spent too much time discovering words
That I no longer know how to put into good use.

II.
This is for each time
My skin yearned for yours
Your memory etched into the prints of my fingers
It was the first time I thought being alive wasn’t bad after all
But I left before you realize I wasn’t worth falling for.

III.
This is for each time
Your words converted me into a ghost
Floating while screaming, “What is this emptiness?”
Each spoon of salt poured unto my wounds
Became the only confirmation that I was still human.

IV.
This is for each time
My best wasn’t bubbling to the brim,
Not enough to let it flow out of my mouth gracefully, effortlessly
This is for each moment
I choked, pushed, and pulled it out of me
Until I was left with a sour tongue & shaky fingers
But at least I can be of service with whatever spills out.
I love my illness
and I am pretty sure
that it loves me too.

No I am certain
that beyond any doubt
my sickness is the only
true love that I have.

But I do worry and doubt
that it may be the only
love I ever find.

I love it because
maybe it will lead
to another life where
others will love me too.

I'll be able to thank
my one friend for making
all of this possible
for letting me find
others that will
like me for me.

Even if others
never know
that it was really my friend bulimia
that let me
finally be loved by them.
At least one thing is eating. (Eating away at me)
invisibly ill
tainted blood,
coursing through my veins
but still,
hidden
I was always gone,
Bliss will be the music at my procession,
Smiling am I inside my see-through glass hearse
February,
The month where most flowers end up in the rubbish,
Sick am I of being a lover.

I can make pretend everything is okay
As if the rose I once planted was not dead long ago.
It's as beautiful as you can think.

Discovering dimensions of death
Look at how beautiful life is without you.
A millionaire on his throne.

I discover more of me
the more I find in you.

I am the air that sings inside your heart,
before you lay to sleep at night.

®K.S
Unbelievable
I thought I'd be numb by now
I am no stranger to your pain
Repeatedly I reach into my heart
Failing to sever the vein
One that connects my love for you
There is no longer anything to gain
Be gone from me
Cause me no more shame
Falling into your tricks
Playing your sick mental game
Father is what you never were
It's only a name
Every year you call to promise change
Why am I always surprised when it all stays the same
I can no longer stand beside you
A daughter you will never claim
Pictures is all we ever were
In a cheap little frame
Sanjali 7d
Pray, don’t pity me,
For I do take blame
That I pity myself
And thus suffer this pain,
And please don’t mock
For there are greater ills
And more the deaths,
My suffering is nil.

Then perhaps
You’d maim my diet,
The lack of sun and
Poor exercise.
I need not even ask
How I’d improve my life,
When the bones sap my vigor
and seem to swell overnight.

And how could I ever try to say
That I see darkness when I go my way,
Pins and needles as I stand,
When the fault is mine anyway?

I shouldn’t even start to think
How my head throbs and pounds all night,
It’s surely because I don’t wake up with the sun.
But how do I wake when I don’t close my eyes?

Now, could it possibly be
You decided that I don’t rest,
That all this pain causes fatigue,
That sleep, you think, is for the best?
Consider when after hours and hours
My body finally dreams in defeat,
Would anyone care to do my work
If I shirk it off to get more sleep?

If the animals end up ill fed,
And the duties are not supervised,
With what peace do I lie in bed,
When it could be done better otherwise?
And so here I do write at six,
With my jaw stiff and eyes bright,
The wires of pain gently shift
Every time I move my hand to write.

What could I wake anyone for,
When painkillers don’t kill enough?
Just to say I cannot sleep?
I’d hear ‘wake up then, be tough’.
So do not again
Bid me to be strong,
Unless you tell the blind to see.
Well dear sir,
There’s no argument for that,
Except, please let me be.

What indeed could you try to cure
When I’m just deficiencies,
Of wit and courage, also strength,
Calcium may be imaginary.
But truly, I do agree,
With the opinion you selflessly endure.
For evidently
Nothing’s wrong with me,
And the pain one must learn to ignore.
Written October 2017
I heard this quiet song
in my youth.

It's almost at it's end now, this slow, sad march
playing everyday, over and over, each second
building, louder, and louder..

It's impossible to describe exactly what it sounds like..

Broken hearts play the drums of regret,
Torn tendons make string-like sounds
snapping a harsh rhythm against the
taunt, hurried sounds of steel scratching
against the nails of my coffin that I built
just for me, just for now, just this once.

The melody isn't mine, it's the memory of
and ex-love. My first love, my first world, my first everything.

Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick
goes the beat, ticking down the
moments to it's end

It's a damn shame that I like the ending, a harsh,
quiet ending to the stupid, selfish, sorrowful,
pitiful song.
Sometimes the song is all I hear
Sometimes its all I want to hear
Sometimes its nothing I want
Sometimes its everything I need
the fever is taking hold of my body
high temperatures and sweating, shaking limbs
there is no cure
this is a fever of the mind
i miss you
day and night
hour after hour
if i don't see you all day
i am left
doubled over in pain and misery
oh you are perfect in every way
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