you always ask why i always stay in my room, in that voice that always made me feel small and vulnerable — the one that always made me feel like a five-year-old girl wishing that the blankets and the stars will hush the thunders.

you always ask why, dad, and yet you always find ways to hurt me the moment i come out of this four-walled shell, ashen and gray from all the storm clouds circling over my head. you always find ways to spot the cracks on my skin, like i was just another wall in this crumbling house. you always find ways lasso your words around my throat — tighter and tighter, i can no longer breathe. you always find ways to unhinge my mind; to unbottle all the tears and all the loose pieces of my heart hastily stitched out of place.

dad, i am caught in a trojan war brewed by my demons, and you are paris, piercing all of my achilles heels; stitched; tender; still healing from all the poisoned arrows you shoot — a year ago. two years ago. three. four. and for years and years, you always find ways to crush me, like the cans of your empty beer. you always find ways to crack and snap this bent framework; my bones are broken from the weight of your words. you always find ways to hurt me and hurt me and hurt me and hurt me again — like i was never the little girl you played dolls and cooking sets with; like i was never the little girl you watched disney movies with. like i was never the little girl you used to love — dad, i am still she, now trapped in the body of an adult. i am still she, now trapped in the prison of a dusty room you unknowingly co-erected. and i guess i'll stay right here where i'm trapped, but safe. i guess i'll stay right here where the voices only come from my demons.

i'll stay right here where you can't see me.

i'll stay right here where i'm not hurt.

What a laugh!
I looked in her eyes
and saw that she was broken.
No one in this world
ever gets enough love.
We bleed our feelings
and silently beg others for help,
but no one ever comes.
Or if they do,
we smile and nod
and bandage our wounds ourselves,
afraid to be vulnerable,
afraid to be human,
afraid to give others the love we so crave.

O' my transparent magical sphere
I am aware of your capabilities

I always regard your truthfulness
I bow before you once again

I also bow before the angel
Who gave me, you as a gift

Again I am here with a question
Please let me know the answer

Don't feel any pressure or fear
You are always my near and dear

Don’t hesitate anymore
Just speak the truth, only truth

My question is plain and straight
But still it is not that simple

The question is mind boggling
The question is very troubling

"Which is the most valuable
Which is the most vulnerable

Which is the fastest growing
Which is the fastest moving

Which is the most popular
Which is the most wanted

And which is the most insecure thing
In this modern mundane world"

All of sudden the sphere turned opaque
Then changed its colour in red and blue

Later it was filled with ***** smoke
Quickly replaced by white-white clouds

And then I figured, A word inscribed
What I saw, was a single word – "DATA"

I thanked my transparent magical sphere
I thanked the angel who gave me this gift

I bowed down with respect and regard
Returned with that single word answer

I assessed, analysed and concluded
Once again the magical sphere was true

At the risk of being vulnerable
How do I tell you how I feel?
At the risk of being vulnerable
How do I tell you I still need you here?
I’ve spent my whole life without you
Yet the thought of a day without you now
Leaves me haunted in my messy mind

Mother,
Please tell me I did what’s right
I saved them a stupid fight

Oh my sweet mother
Tonight I want to be alone and cry
When I needed someone, nobody even tried

It’s too tragic to be true
I had the chance to be the person
Who stabbed me, shot me with her canon

I broke the cycle, mother
I told her I won’t be the one
Who steals her boy just for fun

I did what I needed someone to do for me
Not break me
But to set me free

I want to almost complain
Why was I left alone?
Locked out of my own home?

But then I hear God speak to me
Love me the way I wasn’t loved before
Taught me, less is always more
My God, softening my inner core
Guiding me through mountain and the shore
Hearing me when I’m silent and when I roar
My God, my God

sometimes
i bump into the thought
that i don’t really care
about anything

not school
not being pretty
or healthy, or better.

when you wipe off
the good girl cosplay
the soft peach blush
and the freckles
and the lip gloss

the straight a’s
and the sweet potatoes
and the self-discipline

you will find a wild thing
dancing around
in her underwear
drinking iced coffee
for lunch and
doing nothing but
writing and reading
and abandoning any
semblance of sanity

completely consumed
by all the things
i shouldn’t be.

and when i have
destroyed everything
around me
with my negligence
and delusion

when the decent ones
have seen themselves out

when there is nothing
left inside of me

there will always be poetry.

Sometimes it takes distance to bring fury.
The way my mother boils thinking back to what my father said to his children
     When we still were children
     And she hid behind a glass of wine and solemnity.
There's a quavering fire in her voice now when we talk about his ugly fits
     replacing her quavering smallness from then.

When a lanky café singer
     who loved Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds
Stole my breath
     … and something small and soft and white from me in a Monterey
     Monterey parking lot
I cried
I hid
I scrubbed
But you had better believe
     Now?
I burn.
It wasn't my fault his hands were warped and crusted with filth.
His touching me
     did NOT make me filthy.

When the curly haired beauty
     with his biting, crinkling, smiling eyes
     that flash above his mischief mouth
Poured all his sweetness onto me
     Just to have me shocked at the bruises
     Purple and green and sudden on the heels of his softness ,
I was lost and confused
     and blamed myself for his
     swaddle-****** blows
But
I found my brimstone, hours later
     Lapping at my lips after a cardboard confrontation
Just because you have a vulnerable heart
     doesn't mean you have to be a coward.
Clearly.

     Just look at me.

I feel that my soul has left my body.
I am empty.
Lost.
Unaware.
Aloof.
I feel a soft ache where my heart once beat.
A pressure where my brain used to sit.
I am empty.
A shell without a body.
Without a soul.
Now I wait,
For my body to find its way back.
Hopefully bringing my rejuvenated soul back too.
For now I wait,
Vulnerable,
Empty,
Lost.

To guard your heart or wear it on your sleeve?