stabbing pain around my wrist
although i swear i hit my fist
ace bandages covering up the mark
when it heals i will be off to a new start

im tempted to use my right hand
it wasn't something that i had planned
i play it off like it was just a joke
but i had finally broke

it hurts even to use my hand to write
my school books aren't even that light
i won't live my life restricted
but that is something everyone would have predicted

hello world.
can you hear me?
can you hear my voice through the crackles of my dry throat?
i am tired of screaming.
i am sick of crying.
my eyes are swolen.
no one notices.
can you hear me, world?

I forgot to close the curtain last night
The bedroom is flooded with brightness
White walls and white sheets and your big t-shirt keeping me warm
It's the perfect sunday morning
The calm breeze pushes beyond the courtain
Enticing summer scents flow past my nose
I wish every morning was a sunday one
I roll onto my side to look at you, the light slowly rousing you to wakefulness
I press my cool cheek to the sleep-warmed skin of your bare back and curl my fingers through your hair
My eyelashes flutter on your smooth skin as I blink the sleep from my eyes
You can feel them, tickling you
Your delicate, kiss swolen, perfect lips curl
The softest of smiles plays across them
The corners of your eyes crinkle
And open,
Blearily, to look into mine
You scoop me into your warm arms and your fingertips are lazy
As they trace patterns down my spine,
Coaxing out my sigh I save specially for you
We breathe
Summer air together
Every mornings like a sunday one with you

There is no need
To remember my dreams
I know what they are all about
Your taste lingers in my mouth
Long after I woke.

The swolen feeling in my chest
Is all I need to know
Another night has passed
I have been dreaming of you
Once again.

When I was able to remeber
Those dreams of november
I dreaded the time to sleep.

Now that all that I have
Is the dark feeling of
A forgotten dream.

When I close my eyes hard
I can feel it again,
Your cheeks against my eyelids
And I’m blinded by your skin.

Once again we’re riding that waves
On our way back from the island of women
Where a woman like me was loved
By your playful smiles, cheeky laugh
And your sweet soft stares.

I miss your warmth, your puffy fingers
Swolen and big against mine
I want those fingers to touch my face and hold me,
Watch my tears and wipe them dry.

But I watched you bring those fingers
thousands of miles away
On that plane with a red maple leaf
I shed my tears and let them dry.

Days like this,
where sorrow exist,
I want to goto space
Sit upon the moon
admire bright stars
and erase my swolen
remains

Maybe then,
in a place of darkness,
and hope,
I won't feel so alone

I'd drift in space
passing motionless objects,
hoping to find someone
of the same sadness

Maybe then,
in conversation
and story telling,
I won't feel so abandoned

Surrounded by Silence

I look down at his pale, innocent face,
holding his head in my lap.
Red drops fall onto the snow beneath us
as I stare into his expressionless eyes.
Time is frozen.

Eyes swolen with tears, I watch
as the red dye soakes his shirt.
I wish, for just a moment, he would wake
so I could say goodbye;
I know it's too late.

Slowly, I slip my arms around his limp body
and hold him as I cry into his chest,
wishing I could hear the steady beat of his heart.
What did he do to deserve this?
CLICK.

Looking up, I find myself staring at the metal 'thing'
that silenced the man in my embrace.
I hold him closer, hoping to find a sense of comfort,
for I know the tragedy that is to come.
Everything grows dark.

    *She falls over, blood streaming from the hole in her head.
    I stare for a moment, wondering
    if this was really a necessary action.
    'Eh, what does it matter?' I think as I walk away,
    surrounded by silence. . .

Returning to you sylvia in the black week of no moon:
the carapace
the awkwardness
aflame with evidence
the jew-net of Poland
-- your rack of guilt.

to fly at the sun or burn in its shadow
emptying pockets before you leave
you reap an abandoned harvest, but

the acolytes who call and call hear the ringing of rocks;
bells around the necks
of ghosts
lying down in
hallowed halls,  somewhere bellowing

their words
        like yours
punishing  me
punching  me up the middle,
every image jagged remedy
my **** to my heart
jammed with grief,
throat swolen with loss

the case of your broken bits;
crockery splintered
in capsules or
shoeboxes or drawers carefully there,  there

you are lips pressing
cold glass,
to kiss you to drink your warmth
impossible

after death I hear you;
crow sends your messages
but sweet sister that’s not why you call

inimical oven:  cavern and synagogue,
I am undone
discovering buried treasure.

in the breath of trees you are
somehow there,
in the quick-slip of feet across smooth linoleum
my mausaleum agrees with your arrival

but in the hour before dawn
in the silent roaring volume
you never hear of my love for you

we are cold lovers
both agony


MChallis © 2000/2014

Trying to describe the day that I finally gave up is nearly impossible.
It created in me this uneasiness,
But now I'm overwhelmed with a calm I can hardly verbalize.
I stood on the hillside,
Under the stars,
Then I rolled up my sleeve,
And saw my scars.
All the while,
Trying to smile,
When memories started surface.
I was reminded of all the slicings of that ****** blade across my arm,
And all the thoughts of self harm,
That it brought.
How I just wanted to rot,
And tear up the inner walls of my mind.
All I wanted was to find...
That authentic happiness that resided in so many of my peers.
Not finding it brought me to tears.
My eyelids were swolen.
And so was my heart.
It reeked of fumes that could tear you apart.
All the inner sores that were held within my being,
Were caused by my fears, anxieties, and paranoia.
Being held captive by them, while hiding in plain sight, is obliterating... to one!
I crave a gift... rare and precious, that so many have the capacity and strength to hold.
...that electricity that makes them look alive and vibrant... I wanted it.
I miss the days of constant oblivion, when nothing was there to muddy my understandings of life's complications.
Nothing was there to distort the view I once had... so long ago.
...or so I thought.
Obviously something was there.
And whatever it was, it allowed me to transition to one world to the next. I was in nothingness, and suddenly transported to another dimension of suffering and sorrow...
Of brokenness and devastation.
Obviously something was there.
Because I non-intentionally allowed it to intertwine with myself today.
My thoughts,
My feelings,
My decisions,
And everything that's me.
As I strattle this in between line of feeling lost and broken,
I see myself growing.
Extending in size and strength.
I see myself learning,
And becoming wiser.
I'm learning how to grow as an individual, on the verge of adolescence.
And doing so was a milestone for me.
Overtime I became someone,
Who possessed enough strength and capacity to not be paralyzed in the presence of hardships,
Or to not feel numb or emotionless when pushed around by someone.
I changed.  I M M E N S E L Y !

I'm restless
and tired
my bones ache
and my head throbs

I feel like energy is still draining from my fingertips
from my elbows
from my back

draining into their grasping
tiny
clammy
hands

I feel like there's not enough energy to lift my eyebrows

my jaw is sore
and my throat is swolen
and there's no more voice left inside me

like they've taken all of it already

my eyelids can't move as much as to blink
they're stuck in a Perpetual state of slightly open
with an unending glare behind your head
through your face
like you were a ghost
A thousand yard stare

there is nothing left of me

but I love the people who took my everything

the tiny
clammy
sirens

and they're not even mine

Whats the word they use?
Dead.
I should be dead.
2013 I'm young at heart but numb to reality.  I'm pushed around and beaten senseless.
The bruises come and go, but I think Nothing of em.

2016 I'm a little more acquainted to the pain.
Fear looked at me in the eye and moved in with me .
The silent tears I let fall made groves in the ground.
Sometimes I want to feel something other than pain, but what else is there aside ? I dont know .

2018 I know the best ways to land . Face covered, hands shielding, legs running as fast as they can.
I know every foot step, and the weight they carry behind em.
I know the schedule like clockwork.
I know what to say and what not to say.
I'm a good girl.

2019 im a little bolder . So much more smartmouthed. It's earned me newer cuts and swolen bruises but I can stand on my own two feet.
Eyes alert, anger bubbling.
I know every moment and thier intentions.
2020 I'm plotting. Its wrong. But I know now.
I told a friend why I had that on my shoulder. He looked at me in shock.
Mace? A knife? Maybe a tazer.
I know every floor board and how to slip away unnoticed.
But what lies ahead ?
What else can I feel ?
Is it worse?
All I know is I should be dead. And yet here I am.