It doesn't matter anymore
It doesn't pull at him
It doesn't flatten him
It doesn't even warm his skin just below the surface

He remembers betting the farm
again and
losing
again

He remembers conjuring her image
with another inside her

intense passion
blind lust
temporary bliss
braided into
one
          juxtaposed
by his familiar
personal hell furnished
with a front row
seat to her
exploration of hedonism

ironically, he is busy
exploring asceticism - although
it is with vague
volition, as in
he does not set
an intention thus,
but finds that
his being naturally
collects there
sometimes

Love as an
intoxicant
Love as
ignorance
Love as
withdrawal

In the wake
of attachment
his ribcage breaks
open like grand
french doors into
which the entire
sea pours

The weight of all
that water
on his heart
showing him
the way

Feet Lies,
Head Flies.

i dug my patch of dirt
with my fingers in repentance

this formality before the hurt
this action my penance.

like these roots that roam
far beyond their means

this heart can't be home
to any semblance of honesty it seems.

with the soil                              a cradle
weighing me down
i see a vision of a mottled crown
the coldness seeping in
and for growth to start somewhere within.

I want to slash at my skin with the same intensity that the beehive in my skeletal frame has when the worker bees attempt to seal all the broken parts of me sickly sweet

I want to scream so that It goes hoarse because if I’m not being heard what’s the point of having one anyway

I want to take the weight of their spines lift the broken onto my shoulders so that the shrapnel embedded feet they own no longer have to sink deeper
Embedded further

I want to feel love like the love my parents have in the subtle ways  that they check in on each other
In the small favours, they do for each other

More so

I want to hear her voice say the words I have always longed to hear the words that I know won’t be said the words that are difficult to comprehend

My heart is heavy
But not of weight
But of the ayer of your words
As they drip poison drops of nothing yet everything
Nothing is heavier , heavier than weight itself

Written by E.M.Rushton
June 3 rd 2019

Checking in
to weigh in
the weight
of years
waiting
to burn
off

My baggage
toned my existence

I have so many thoughts in my head
but none of them actually make sense.
Well, that's not true either.
But I can't figure out the order they go in.
I'm trying to be better.
To love myself harder.
I sing in the shower
and dance in the mirror
but only when its still fogged up.
I smile more in my pictures
and I don't delete the ones in my husband's phone.
I'm making little steps
to falling in love with myself
which is a lot of effort
when I can barely walk as it is.
I try not to hate myself when I break
and binge eat again
but its really hard not to
when I know that I won't eat again for a few days.
And I know its a problem,
and I don't know how to fix it.
I'm just trying to love myself through it.