I feel things fiercely. A whole new level of pain, sadness, and very occasionally joy. When my heart breaks, it falls from the top of a mountain to the deepest abyss of the earth. When I am hurt, I feel the pain of ten-thousand thorns piercing through my skin, a hundred poisonous snake bites, and 24 years of self deprecating thoughts all stirred into a single tear. Some might call it dramatic, but if they knew the impact it had on my thoughts, my smile,my whole life , they would eat those words as fast as they spit them out.

She's just being dramatic.

She's just too extreme.

She doesn't have control of her emotions.

You make it sound like I chose this, like I continue to choose this. When something "small" happens, like a friend not turning out to who you thought they were, or a moment not living up to its expectations, my whole world quakes. I cannot help it. I can't fix it. I didn't pick this. I didn't want to feel so impacted by the smallest movement. This is the way I was created and believe me, I am trying so hard to fix it - more than I could ever explain. The process of caring enough to fight instead of ending my life is something that might come easy for you, but takes a lot of convincing for me. Please try to understand. And if you don't, that's okay. I don't want to be here anyway.



-t.s.

she observes her setting for a while
she plans her points
she sets her anchors
she notices the challenges
she takes the risk
she starts building her web
she finds the center and waits

she is drawn in by the scent
she is drawn in by the light
she is drawn in by the beauty
she is drawn in by the safety
she is drawn in by the peace
she is drawn in by the similarity
she is drawn in by the difference

i am hence stuck in this sweet torture
i am content in my waiting
i am content in my trap

waiting for her to **** me dry
waiting for her to leave me high
waiting for her to make me cry

i sit waiting in terror.
i sit waiting for the transfer
i sit waiting for her power

a healthy trade
ones evil to be paid
for a heart that beats delay.
justification of sorts
a reward for her grit
chomping on a fresh bit
but now its time to relish in the play
this is only part one
just wait for it.
you'll get it one day.

Singing high to Fernando and dancing down low in Orlando  
 
When ecstasy suddenly turned to tragedy  
 
They were just out bopping, then he came out just popping  
 
The pulse was beating, while he was out cheating  
 
His wife new about his scouting  
 
But she never thought 'bout the victims  
 
That the families would be counting  
 
Forty nine were just out to dine and wine  
 
Fifty or so, still lying so low, feeling not so fine  
 
He tried to crawl out, just after his last shot  
 
Popo's saw him on the floor and said no more  
 
Put a bullet in his ***, the same place he liked it, that's for sure.

In just a couple of minutes, I'm going to die.
You are probably curious so I'll tell you why.
A man has slapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists.
He thinks I'm sleeping with his wife and he's ******.
But he has also crammed a stick of dynamite up my ****.
He lit the fuse because his wife turned out to be a ****.
But I'm not his wife's lover, he's punishing the wrong guy.
I'm about to be blown to kingdom come, I don't want to die.
But the dynamite didn't explode, it turned out to be a dud.
But he isn't done with me yet, he intends to spill my blood.
He just pulled out a knife and said that this is the end.
But his slutty wife just drove past with her boyfriend.
He has removed the cuffs and apologized because he was going to ****.
I just crammed a lit stick of dynamite up his *** to show him how it feels.

The rich herbal infusion of your blood
It blots on paper, makes funny shapes,
You giggle-
Teabag skin stripped by a paperclip,
Torn so easily, it smells like rain
Like the first time your bare feet touched soil

You long to lick it,  
It's the liquified form of tension,
Some inner tangle propelled outwards,
Tempting, tempting,
Like stuffing a yarn doll with its own string;
The re-consumption is only natural,
But allow it still to flow-

It is water let loose from a dam or a hose
That's been blocked with moulding leaves
And now sprays fitfully just because it can,
A thousand explosives set loose
From their trembling captors.

By no means is it neat,
But the sieves of your veins have kept it
Fresh and scarlet with health,
So it isn't unpleasant to look at.

Drain it, let it pour like honey across the table
Where your family sits, silent and traumatised,
Watching the deluge do what it does best.

Pour them a cup of it to have with their slices
Of cake and biscuit crumbs on their plates;
Haemoglobin is good for the brain,
Gentle terror for the soul.

Now every night starts the same;
Go to bed and as if by mistake,
Body failing to obey, so tame,
ceasing the fight to stay awake.
FOCUS
My body is long gone by now
And somehow i´m still awake;
For my consciousness refuses to bow
Welcoming my own sorrow and ache.
FOCUS
Feeling numb with anticipation
Of losing control of ones mind;
To bring life to such horrid imagination;
was there nothing else to find?
FOCUS
I feel it´s weight upon my chest
And someone´s voice, can´t recognize;
The need to move so i can rest,
that even a blink would be a prize.
FOCUS

perhaps there’s a part of me
that’s just scared of becoming my father’s son
when i have worried all my life i would turn into my mother
in the deep hours of the night they ask me
“can i tell you something”
it’s not a lie when i reply
“you can tell me anything”
as they spend the next minutes trying to figure out how to tell me
that i have always appeared as someone who is
afraid to be wrong
but when you’ve grown up
with wrong as the kind of person you’re supposed to live up to
and the kind of thing you are screamed at for being on
a daily basis
and love the kind of thing you only find in fairy tales
you grow horrified of being wrong
terrified of dreaming
and screaming in your sleep
that i will not be
my father’s son