I worked hard to build up these walls,
for I'm scared to trust again.
I painted different kinds of mask,
for I was tired of being shamed.

But you, you destroyed my walls instead of climbing up,
and you saw through my masks and in this downfall you pulled me up.

I have a thing with the colour purple,
It always has something to do with the bad things in my life.
The person with the profile picture,
The purple LGBTQ+ flag.
The purple walls of your room,
The purple flowers with my blood on them.
Not like anyone notices,
It's probably just my imagination.
I 'aint ever going back to that dark place tho.

i stay up late
having conversations with the walls
and screaming your name
at the mirror
               what if i can’t get up today?
i have sleep paralysis
from overthinking our conversations
from last week
until today
              what if i don’t want to fight?
the monsters under my bed
have pulled out my memory box
and have thrown it around my room
for their own amusement
            what if the sun doesn’t shine today?
that’s okay,
it’s only monday
you still have the rest of the week
to recover
take it easy, you’ll be okay

One night I was delivered
Birthed from the womb
Of a hospital car
Into a dark room
With a chipped wooden desk
Where I sat to cry
Without light
Without hope
I read the walls
And quieted

"Love you will be okay"
Scrawled above my bed
In jagged strokes
As jagged as the edges
Of my broken mind
Sharp shards that cut me
Loose from my family
Stitched together
Only by the words
Of the walls

Crude were the scratches
That held me together
For so many days
They were borne of the same desperation
That I was
Sometimes, just knowing that
"You are not broken"
Was enough to keep me sane
When the doors screamed
And the moon kept me awake

How many times did I break
Behind thin and lapsing walls
With only the comfort of
"You are enough"
To beat out the chill
Of frosted windows
And Portland rain
With red eyes
And chapped lips
I turned to face the wall

Building up a broken will
Packing bags
With papers
Of a journey not so much travelled but
Fought I laid for the last time
Upon that bed
Taking pencil to plaster
Trying to let them know
"Someday you will read these words for the last time"
"This is not the end"

Let the walls run deep
into the stairwells of vision

Let the walls fall through
below the rivers of noise

Let the walls soar by
over massing clouds of scent

Let the walls be still
'til one small word is spent

Are thieves ants ?
And are ants up on my pillow ?
Can't count all the trees
that villain up the wallpapers
Immurked
In silent non-light

A Percher weighs himself upon my chest
Fidgeting and hurting the spurring of my breath
I can't speak to he
Nor he to me
I've not made any friends here
I'm always the quiet one.

The tools of the drapes make-eye new fashion
I yawn in-breath the scenery
Til I'm replumbed a fear familiar
I've not taken note
And they'll be a cell toss in the sorrow light
And stern disused adults
With their 'on clockwork troubles'

I turn in this muffle scape
I'm feverless and struggling
In the ample warm bright shade
Capsized in an umbrella
Of an altered canopy nest
Lovingly bed laid
And to the falling
And fawn the ceiling
Well in for teething
Water floats the basin
Town in for weening
The coast of new morning
I gorm to life
Jump started and fit fused