Never trust anyone,
best advice I've ever been given.
But do I listen?
I know I can't trust a soul
but yet around I go,
letting people break down my walls
when they have no intention of helping me
build it back up
if it ever comes crashing down.

I can feel the bricks I let you pick
away from my shield
tumble down
around me now.
It takes my breath away,
with each stone that hits me
bruising my already battered heart.

Now, I am under rubble
stuck under my own broken walls
I built to protect myself
from men like you.

And here I know,
I have to start over.
Am I able to build my wall high enough
to keep out the next one who tries to steal my heart
& heal myself from all the wounds
I've caused myself from letting the wrong ones in?

I’m spiraling and sprawling out
The ugly parts revealed
Like a hermit crab
who’s had his shell taken

Hyperventilating and staring at opaque ceilings listening to the walls
They speak and when they do they whisper of me
They laugh at their corners and close in on me

They grip with brick hands
Face the floor
He feels what I feel
I will merge with him so they will be right
Let them walk all over me
Until I can no longer feel

these barriers offer isolation
these boundaries provide protection
these walls put everything in chain
because attachments often lead to pain

Visual delusions:

Scrutinizing the acuity of
            what is visualized.
But sight is only validated
by the morality glazed over.
Until narratives are edited
to mimic a reality of self delusion.

Oral formalization

Dictation versed within syllable
            delusions, never sounding
the reflection of thought to breath.
But sour exhalation collects on
vacant windows, spelling other
          than what is breathed outwards.

Auditory silence

Auditions drummed within,
echoing on shallow walls,
           nothing wrote within
A tirade of failures woven with
three perceptions. Collective ignorance.

In a room full of twelve
It felt like eleven
Lonely isn’t the word
I would use to describe it
People were there
But I couldn’t bring myself to use them
People were there
But I couldn’t let my walls away from me
People were there
But I couldn’t let myself lean on them

That’s why I can’t ever go back to that island
I cannot be alone again

Can't you just love me again?

A whisper-wisp through the dark,
spoken in the night to familiar walls
you're helping your brother
paint a different colour,
masking forever words those walls have heard
and the time
I took acid
at your birthday
and watched the 70's wallpaper you've covered up melt like heated crayons
to join me on the floor,
rolling rainbows and laughter through the air in a technicolour soup,
in an effort to forget your face in the next room.


But can't you just love me again?

You want more than friends who are occasionally lovers,
to find meaning in the familiarity we sometimes share,
to amalgamate two bodies confidential in their knowledge of one another,
to illuminate my heart with another chance.

But you forget I say
into the silence and the drying Irish linen,
I've repainted the walls within
to erase a love which rendered us strangers,
built my heart its own house with no room for a former life,
so your words can do nothing but knock,
at a front door
now forever politely closed.