An explosion of art in my soul,
from tragedy I birth a masterpiece
as this world hoards disorder,

You will not make a madhouse out of me,
you will not haunt me when
everything falls apart,
I will not see the "us" in rust,
from rust, the world implodes
but from the rust, I grow

There is chaos out there,
and sometimes, I find it hard
to just float and breathe,
I find it hard to not drown in the noise,
I find it hard to determine
what I should perceive,

And at times, I let
my mind bury me in ashes,
I let you bury me in ashes,
but watch me strike a match
on all the wasted anger and anguish;
I don't think you can defeat me.
There are no weapons
to knock down my walls of chaos.

(haiku)

Places where we stay
Invisible walls apart
–never getting through

Trips to New York City
Audrey Hepburn
Online shopping and
weekends I cried my soul out
My walls tell a story

Quotes that made me feel something
tickets from my
happiest days
Fabric birds from a place
where my heart belongs
My walls tell a story

How my ex boyfriends mom
treated me like her own daughter
Days my dad treated me
like his daughter
My walls tell a story

Tucked away in the top drawer
on the right hand side of my desk
is a photo that tells the beginning of the story
it used to be a piece of the map on my wall
but now, it sleeps hidden
beneath my wall of tales and better times
It marked the beginning
of what I believed to be my happy ending
the week I'll never forget
It still tells a story,
our story but
doesn't deserve to be on display
only taken out for the eyes that I choose
I hide all of my folded photos,
my stained memories

my drawers are over filling with misconceptions and insecurities
My drawers tell a story

I need to clean up but my back hurts my heart aches
My floor tells a story

I'm just too tired
It's best I sleep
My bed tells a story

All while I remain silent  
I'm trying to forget why I
feel sad but I keep tripping
over my regrets and
Old mistakes

I'm sick of these stories
Get rid of these stories
Break down my walls
Happy times are mocking me cause
I don't feel happy any more
Can't make good memories anymore
Cause the people I made them with
left and left my walls shaking
crumbling but reminding me
My walls tell a story

How do I milk these thoughts?
I extract them from her skull,
I turn off the colour switch
so she won't want to exist in this dull...
I scream inside her
and she fights me,
endlessly, tiredlessly,
She's trying all the solutions in the book
but without a grain of confidence,
she's a fishing line with no hook,
sinking into my kind of
state of mind for eternity,
penetrating my inner walls,
she knows my name as she falls,
She has become me.

Love (if I'm capable of that),
Anti.

I do not like the feeling of
examination,
of eyes burning on my back
as if you are a small match
and I am the bushfire
you wish to light...
I do not like the feeling of
obssessive observation,
I do not like privacy violation,
I do not like the feeling of claustrophobia,
I do not like claustrophobia because
it doesn't cease to exist by simply
removing ten people from one room.
I do not like claustrophobia because
sometimes your own mind is enough
to provoke a certain type
of wanderlust,
the kind where you run away
and leave everyone to rot and rust.
I do not like claustrophobia
because when I am alone,
it can never be enough alone,
it feels like the walls of my room
are breathing on my neck;
they're laughing at me,
declaring this poet insane,
it is the most crowded type of alone
until somebody, something
sedates my brain
and you call me "suggestive anxiety"
it's all in your head,
you're a game of chance
and I'm taking a guess;
you know my face but
you know nothing about my name.

"Why are you
So lonely?"
*Whispered the shadows
And walls.