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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Twenty six

He was just one of 
those poetic nightmares
that made my words spill
down the pages.

you’re just one
of those poems
that won’t commit
suicide.

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

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.

Sorrow

I’m lost in the emptiness of my sorrow,
   I feel nothing but the pain.

I’ve been broken down into nothing,
       I’ve got nothing to keep on going for.

My soul is suffocating;
Crying and screaming behind my tightly locked lips.
{I wont let her speak}

She bleeds black ink onto bright white pages,
Begging for someone to see behind the excuse.
           {No one ever does}

I’m hurting,
Yet if you ask me how I am,
I promise to lie.
    {I’m fine}

I’m learning how to deal with this suffering,
I’m fine with being e m p t y ,
I’m okay with dying.
{As long as it’s all over soon}

There’s nothing around me,
It’s the a b s e n c e of everything.

I’m a l o n e.
There’s n o t h i n g left of me.

Your words mean nothing to me,
I’ve lost my will to care.
{After all, it has only brought me pain}

Leave me,
Let me drown in my s o r r o w.
{Maybe then I might get some peace}

I don’t wanna try anymore,
The pain is too intense,
And breathing is just too hard.
{Inhale; Exhale; Inhale; Exhale; Inhale; Exhale;}

I’m going to close my eyes,
Count to t e n,
And maybe then,

Once all the different pills kick in,
I might just be able to get a w a y,

I amight even get to die today.

Un

Unplanned.

Unprepared.

Unnoticed.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Unable.

Unaccepted.

Unused.

Unacknowledged.

Unappealing.

Unbeknown…

Un un un.

It seems to make me.

I’m always un.

But it’s these un’s that make me stronger too.

I will become unstoppable,

as the years go on.

And come out unbloodied,

in the fight of life.

I, along with everyone else,

just have to go though some unfortunate things,

before we can unbarricade these walls,

and become open to the world.

We just have to remember,

be unbashful,

unbox our feelings and opinions,

and uncap the inspiration and intelligence,

that I KNOW we all have inside us.
Live on,
and do it proudly.

Now

“Laying alone with the history that made you cold and uncertain inside. Careful now, deep breath, the water’s still rising. But your silver lining’s in sight.”

What could of been, should of been, might of been?

What you see, what you think, whats real, and whats not.

Confusion, peace, despair, hope, anger, sadness, happiness.

If only this. If only that. Just to go back. Just to move forward.

But stop.

There is here. There is now. There is you and nothing else.

My thoughts pull me under and I reach for you to pull me up. You deliver me from myself and provide the easy silence I need, the comfort and protection.

Never fooling me into believing its over or going to be easy, but just promising yourself, never for me to be alone.

Dear Someone

I don’t know who you are or why I had the sudden urge to write this. You could be anyone in the whole wide world. But for some reason, you were on my heart this morning. I haven’t slept all night, and I guess staring at the ceiling makes one think about what really matters.

You’re one-of-a-kind, you know that? Not factory-made, not mass-produced, not something but someone. Even if you’re a twin or triplet, you’re uniquely and wonderfully you. There is something about you that no one else has, and that the world would be woefully without if it were taken away. From the curve of your eyelashes to the barest hint of a smile at one corner of your mouth when you’re trying not to laugh, you’re a collection of little miracles all wrapped up into one special and wonderfully made package. Each of your cells custom-made, chains of DNA specifically forged and coded just for you. But you’re more than science. You’re tangible and intangible, physical and ethereal, radiating emotion and life from your mass and though you may not see it, you’re an essential part of this world. You’re not an accident, and you’re here for a reason. Though it’s sometimes hard to understand why things can be so hard, and you may come to question your very existence, you must never let go. Because with you gone, there’d be a black hole that’d suck everyone into a gloomy darkness, because your light would be irreplaceably extinguished. You may think you’re unloved, friendless, rejected, alone, but you’re never really alone. Every word and deed you speak and commit form a thread in the web of your life, and you never know how another person, invisible to you, may need that thread as a lifeline. So don’t hold back; don’t give up. Remember that people need you to be you and that you’re not just a statistic, not just a name or a number, but a living breathing amazing person, someone who’s part of something bigger than life itself. Times are tough, you may fail and fail again, but you must never stop trying. Never, ever. There are dreams waiting for you to discover, people waiting for you to come into their lives and brighten their days, and miracles waiting to happen. Just please, please, please believe. Because believing is what makes dreams come true, even if they’re dreams you never knew you even had.
-Rosie 

Hope

There are times when one loses hope. When one just stands there, for a single moment, and stares. Just stares out into the horizon, looking and looking, almost as if waiting for something to come. But it never comes. They stand there, they watch, and they wait, and they are disappointed. No one is exactly sure what keeps giving them hope, or enough courage to stand there another time, but something does. Something, deep down, reaches up into their mind and says, wait again, it will come. So they wait because that’s what the voice told them to do, that’s what their feelings say, and they keep waiting. Some wait all of their life, without ever getting what they want. Others, the voice just stops trying, stops telling them to go back and look, they just stop. And some, never get there at all. 

Is it wrong for them to have that hope? To dream that dream that one day, whatever they are looking for will finally come? Maybe it is wrong, maybe they have been misled, and misjudged, and they don’t know what they are truly supposed to do anymore, but its never wrong to them. That hope that they lost, maybe it wasn’t really lost at all. Maybe it just settled down for awhile, itself also waiting, for the day when it is supposed to come back. Maybe its going to come back, but that body that they inhabit doesn’t last long enough for its return. 

Sometimes people stand there, and while they are looking, they give up. For a fraction of a second, they stand there, and they think to themselves, “Its not going to happen,” and then that’s the end. Sometimes that one person, standing, and all alone, is too alone to keep going. That their giving up has nothing to do with who they are, or what they want, or what they can do, but has everything to do with the fact of how strong they are when they stand alone, and wait. Sometimes one loses hope, but is it our place to say whether or not they get it back again?

A haunting 

The ghosts, they walk amongst us.

Shadowing us, hiding around corners waiting. A sudden laugh in a party, a glint in a stranger’s eye, a smell or sound that suddenly makes your pulse quicken and an ill chill finger itself up your spine and grasp your neck.

Maybe I have been too sure of late. Too certain, too stupid. Oblivious, unseeing.

That email conversation; that piece of  agony and recrimination that I thought I had deleted forever from my inbox. I read the words slowly, pushing myself to finish it, hating every minute but needing to do it, like sucking at a bad tooth. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth where I subconsciously bite my lip. My heartbeat quickens as a fog descends upon my brain and the whole world seems to slide on its axis and leave me reeling and nauseous, in a limbo of my own making. As it was at the time.

And I feel you, ghost. I feel you behind me, your hand heavy on my shoulder. You have found the box, the box inside my head where our words were laid to rest. You have prised it open, for I never locked it. Your words, as always, drown mine out. Your fingers, ice-cold with bitterness, pluck every innocent phrase, every plea, every apology, every ounce of love and respect in that conversation and scatter it before my eyes once more.

You laugh your hollow laugh with your cold, dead eyes and remind me of my wrongdoings, my failings, my flawed humanity whilst you move in to suck the certainty from my undeserving marrow.

Listen, ghost. Look. There is a storm coming.

Watch as the blue sky bloodies and bruises. Watch as the crows wheel and caw in the rising winds, circling, curious. Listen to the leaves sing out high in the waving trees, see them fall to the ground small and brown, then whip and twirl around my bare ankles and then rush ahead in their little chattering gangs. Either dancing, or afraid.

Hear the black dog howl.

And, over in the vacant plot, see the lone magpie peck and scratch amongst the nettles and the rubbish. Watch her hop amongst the discarded chip wrappers, the plastic bags that dance on the low, cold breeze. Watch her, and watch her well.

Walk with me a while, ghost. There is a storm coming.

Walk with me when the rain starts. Keep that heavy hand on my shoulder as my soaked hair whips my face and the cold rain clings. Walk with me as I raise my face to the bellowing skies to feel, to taste, to live each raindrop. To live.

Ghost, the storm will set me free.

Ghost, the storm will return you to where you belong, carried away with the howling winds along the rain-drenched slick black streets where I cried so many times for you.

But I will fear you no more.