child egoyou should be infectioussunshine-yellow anddandelion-bright.(you are storm-cloudgrey and you rain onmy garlanded red parade)you should be gloriousindependent bee-wings andforgiving day.(you are the drowninggirl clinging to my soulas a life-belt)you should be freelysinging discordant harmonieswith gold-glitter eloquence.(you are screaming inyour sleep and red painttrickles down your arms)you should be brand-newborn again to a wombof bowing willow trees.(you are buried underoak and yew, shrouded infeathery soil)you should be my enemy.(you are my friend)you should be telling methat i cannot tell youwho you are.(but you do not. youjust weep and refuseto let go of my hand)
implosion.there is a blackhole collapsinginside of me; anevent horizon inmy heart and itsucks in emotionlike poison froma spider bite inan african summer.self-destructionis easy. just leavepassion untended,bury it where thereought to be signswarning 'no hotashes' and forgetabout it. angerbuilds up andgrows dense untilit collapses withyour heartbeat.my curse lies inmy genes - ferocityand violent emotionlie side by sidewith a black dog andthe mascot of obesity.i should be a sun andburn up everything inmy path. instead idraw it into me wherei crush it and whereit can never see light again.the yawning mouththat beckons me is callinglight and life andhope and it is swallowingmy dreamswhole.i am everything i wasborn to be compressed intoa peppercorn - i am brokenand if you get too close,i will break you,too.
explosionyou are burning andraging like thelast fires of a dyingsun. cherry-red glintsin your eyes as you spitsweet curses and gaspfor sulphur-taintedbreath. your anger isa peephole portholeinto the furthest reachesof lucifer's infernoand i have no guideto lead me back intothe light.do you know who iam? i am all that youare and more and lessbut i am too afraidto let go. you blazewith all the gloryof the fiercest fireswhich can destroy ancientmemories of forest ina second and a sparkand even if i was notsinged by your fury iwould still choke on thefumes that entwine mylungs - (the primary causeof death in indoor firesis the inhalation of smoke).my closeness to you meansi am engulfed with the samedestruction that boils bloodand cauterises any otheremotion.you cremate me. this isyour anger and i will run.
FallYou try to make me betterBy cutting my lifeline.Don't.I won't do anythingExceptFALL
But you did.And so I did.It's dark down here.I think something broke.My heart?Or maybe my mind.
My Side of Your StoryWithering anger sears through my bodyBones becoming stiff, brittle, afraidTurning to iceOnly to melt in the loving apologiesThat will come later.But I agree with youI should be ashamed of myInability to speak to othersI am a fool to be afraid of such a thingMy fault.You do not mean what you sayBut when I agree with youI do mean it.My silence is my acceptance, andProof of my own self-loathing.You are like the oceanAnd I am glassThrown against sharp rocksCaught between your fury and my disgustBecoming smaller and smallerUntil, eroded and fragmented,I am a myriad emerald grains swallowed intoYour darkness;Crystalline sandsHeld in by only a shapeless skinAnd all it would take isOne cutTo release the rhythms of my shattered heartAnd swallow the worldWhole.
Streaks of PurpleStreaks of purpleAnother bruised day.Follow a blood-spattered dream to its unhappy conclusion.Is it true?Words are jumbled senseless free.Take a chance.Jump.Fly? Or fall?Bleed to forget.Forget to live.Live to die.Die to dream.Dream to dare.Dare to bleed.STOP. Let go.Blessed agony and pain is real, more real than the sunlight
porcelainthe tiles on my bathroom floorare blue, or lilac, or pale cream.i am lying curled up on top of them,pretending the locked room isa womb.my fingers tap tap tap on the porcelain.i am too cold. there is a radiator onthe other wall but it is too hot.i am shaking. this is not my life.so much is wrong. i blink. and again.a pain pulses in my ears and i curvemyself even further in, so my headbrushes my knees. it feels likesomeone has my heart danglingbetween thumb and forefingerand they are squeezing it.it hurts.everything is pale.even the moon, warped andpregnant through thepatterned glass,has lost her glow.