Untitled.

My breaths are shallow 
& i swallow the whimpers like
Water; too hastily, as if i’d been trapped in a desert all year
But you asked me to keep breathing
& we both know i want to do just that
It’s just sometimes 
What i have to do to survive, is too damaging too.

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Forgetting.

I’m pinned to the wall collecting dead skin cells from all the lovers you’ve pressed up against me.

I’m pinned to your forehead like a note your mother leaves when you take a nap.

I’m pinned to the door, swinging aimlessly in an abandoned house that’s going to fall apart soon.

I’m pinned to your lips, as they kiss the back of her hand.

I’m pinned to all these beautiful dreams of yours, that are sitting in a forgotten old cabinet in your study.

I’m pinned to every place you’ve been: Spain, Russia, France. Here.

I’m pinned to the underside of the coffee table you put your feet on while you watch TV.

I’m pinned to the insecurities you think about when you’re alone.

I’m pinned to that relationship you know you should fix, but don’t.

I’m pinned to your chest, like the girl in your bed last night was.

I’m pinned to the drops of sweat running down your neck, cold and distracting.

I’m pinned to all the lies you hate yourself for telling.

I’m pinned to your breath, your lungs, your throat, the top of your mouth.

I’m pinned to the music playing as you sleep.

I’m pinned to the moment when you think of me, and then push me away to the back of your mind.

Between life and death

again and again on my knees

broken by those who should help me stand

not sad nor happy in this life

forgotten

 

fallen

 

and getting up

again

again and again

every time

after every fall

more determined to keep standing

more desperate to avoid another

fall

 

depression doesn´t hurt

it´s beyond limits of sadness

beyond any other feeling known by mam

 

why?

being alive is too hard

there are easier ways around

 

why to stand up after fall?

 

standing

stubbornly holding on worthless things

patiently crying when no one hears

broken pieces glued together

by what?

 

life

 

effort testing limits of strength

buying time to find more will

forgetting to smile

what did it feel like

for the last time?

 

and again

 

falling

Anxiety

There is a freight train inside my ribcage
And it pounds at the walls
Shredding my dignity to pieces
This anxiety is scratching the chalk boards
Peeling away at the rooftops
It never leaves me alone
I am left with spider webs on my tongue
One bullet for one mind
A one way ticket to the unknown
Tonight I pray to a God I don’t know I believe in
For some type of relief
To help my soul from melting.

Self oppression

once, i dreamed

everyone was bound by

invisible chains.

no one could see them but i.

some were bound by doubt;

others, anxiety; still others, fear.

the chains wrapped around the soul, then extended

and dragged

on the ground.

(though i did notice that some were unchained –

they were very few, and tended to create things.

there was fire in their eyes.)

even invisible chains make noise

(or so i thought – everyone either couldn’t hear them or pretended

not to).

the chains dragged and clanked

making the most terrible racket

and the noise was deafening –

then i awoke to find

it was never really a dream

at all.

Naked and stripped bare to my organs.

There is nothing I can say, safely.there are changes and motions and stillness

that have left me naked and stripped to my bare organs;

the heart being the evident one.

what can I do now with this?

dress myself up? 

keep all hope down?

there is no home yet. no place, no heartbeat, no whisper.

I have buried this many times,

it resurfaces as if it was a gore tale.

It comes out, almost shining its light

to face my own little darkness.

I hate that I love. 

yet I live because of it.

I re-member, and arrange and continue,

awake, barely.

trying to weigh my feet down I find myself,

after all these years.

No more an angel I wish to be;

but I still wonder, I still look at the sky.

You know? I still write, how ironic.

I still am who I was, 

but less. much less. 

and with it I have not become more.

I use the word I still. 

(is it even considered a word?)

I battle my thoughts with your logic.

I silence my own naive narrative,

because,

well,

who knows why I am even allowing it.

I question my intention every step of every way,

even though I have no way.

Lost as it were, moving slowly,

in rhythm with the desire of not wanting more distance.

I died. I did die.

Just like love I still try to resurface.

Every so often I smile. bot not for long.

not an adult smile.

because there is no real reason to.

not with a broken heart. 

a heart that should be empty by now. 

but it is full,

of you.

And I carry that weight, that life that never happened.

That night, that day, that phrase, that word, that whisper,

that imagined touch,

I re-live it to live.

I have yet to get sick of it. 

at least as much as it got sick of me.

 

How ?

How do you forget something that’s so integrated into yourself? 

How do you rip the memories from your flesh without bleeding? 

How do I tear out the emotions without killing that small piece of myself?

 I’m burning for an answer, but I always end up with more questions.