Damage
**** Edge

Tired in a cherry world.
I’m running down the lane, across the hallway and the fluffy walls.
Sorry but I missed the train.
I’m tired and I can’t see where I’m going.
But I also can’t sleep.
I’m uncomfortable so I went to this cherry land.

There’s no other place where I can stay.
And I’m still running but in a cherry place.
I think I might be here for a little while.
Cherry cheeks and cherry beer.
Cherry lips of course…
Rainbows, raining cherries.
And some clouds in the sky, so light and pink.

I wish I was light in myself.
No feeling heavy inside.
That’s why I leave to the cherry tree.
To lie down but I’m not comfortable at all.
So I get up and run and eat a bun with sweet cinnamon.

**** me and let me bleed cherry.
Thick sweet cherry colored fluid from inside, let me fall, let it rain, cherry blood.
The stains will never be washed away.
Easter is coming.
And I’m painting the eggs.
Cherry red in a fluffy basket.
Safely tucked in.
They won’t crack easily.

Unless you throw them and they splash.
Cherry liquid love.
They spread it over the sea.
And the Easter bunny is swimming.

Floating like a cherry in the lemonade pool, the tank with taps that lead to the can.
The can full of cherry liquor and cream.
I’m dressed in black with dark cherry stains.
Stamping on the cherries.

But I cut my feet, from the egg shells, the dyed chick’s eggs, died like me.
Died, dead, cherry, red.
Cause they got smashed.

And I was tired of being cracked and crying, cherry colored.
Waves of pain, witches that float, that see too many things through cherry seas.

🍒🌊🩸

I love to pretend that everything is fine.
Like a moment of silence, a dark corner, a song.
I see a painting of a woman crying.
Big drops.

I meet nice people when I sleep.
I go under the water.
I take things as they come.

Hidden behind grave stones I watch the people walking.
Crying.
People losing everything being locked up in their prisons.

And the love and hope that keeps them going.
From a distance.

Love is traveling from one place to the next.
To where it belongs.
And it can never stay alive.

Only in death.
Everything is fine.

Like a moment of silence in the dark.
Like a song in your playlist that comes along telling you: it’s alright.

In another world I’ll be that mother that looks at their kid thinking: what’s not to love?
I’ll do things calmly.
I don’t need to break a toxic cycle.
From my family and my own life.
I’m new.
To be able to love and enjoy things calmly and peacefully.

Piano notes drift in the
rainy evening,
like sadness from a
clock.
You were the color
in my dreams.
The paint on my
canvas.

I watch the
parade of
trivialities line
up like
hemlock,
like mad dogs
yipping at
my ankles.

I'm too
crafty for them.
I laugh and
yawn
and watch
my cats play with
an electric fish.