Protected: For she was a sinner.

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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.

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.

Imagine That

Imagine that you are made of stars.
A hundred million tiny points of light that make you more beautiful than anyone else. Imagine that, all at once, you are in every wonderful place in the world. Everything looks like cupcakes and sounds like your favourite song. Imagine that you are everything you ever wanted to be and that there is no such thing as happiness because you never need to feel anything other than perfectly, beautifully content like those blissful moments between sex and sleep. Imagine that all around you, existence swirls by like golden autumnal leaves that have been snatched up for a waltz by the breeze. Imagine that all the best moments of your life are pieced together to create everything that is happening to you. Imagine being able to feel the binds of his restraints around your wrists with the taste of his skin on your tongue. Imagine that every time you breathe, it smells of him and every time you blink, his slow smile spreads across the insides of your eyelids. Imagine that you don’t know how to do anything other than be in love.

Imagine that, one at a time, all of the stars are extinguished and you start to fade away. Imagine that, as quickly as your heart can beat, a sparkling star becomes a flake of ash that falls and drifts away from you. Imagine that all of the beauty surrounding you disintegrates into itself until it becomes a mass of liquid nothingness at your feet. Imagine a stillness so silent that you wonder how anything could ever have been real. Imagine the fear you feel as you realize that you are losing yourself . You are left alone, in an almost-dark space staring into a pool of everything that you once had but didn’t deserve, knowing that it could only have been a matter of time before fate realized its mistake. Imagine that you are staring at what should have been forever, wishing on the last few stars that are left that this is just a dream, and wondering how it is possible for one person to be this broken.

Break.

“but please don’t make me,not anymore.”

the faucet’s leaking out my soul tonight,

i think i’m drowning in old memories

that i forgot i had,

so do you think you could tell me

if my face has turned violet yet?

i’ve been weaving words into my skin,

but every time i sit down and let the nothingness

wash over me, it seems as if there’s too many words

in my head

for there to ever be anything left

to say.

my favorite color’s always been the opposite

of whoever’s sitting next to me,

and once i say “i’ll do it”

i can never bring myself to sit down,

think,

and actually see it through,

no matter how much i want to.

i’m not who i used to be, you see,

i was something too hard to comprehend, i overwhelmed.

parts of me don’t know who they are, but

you seem to keep me tied down

just enough

for me to fly without

flying away.
(awayawayaway.)

“come back now, please,”

i yell across the cushion clouds,

but you’re lost inside your own contradictions,

and i’m starting to wonder if there’s nothing i can do

to save you, anymore.

i’m afraid of causing

more trouble than i’m worth,

because i know that once i find a place where i can let go,

i never can pull myself back in and i always end up

making a mess on the floor of

black and blue and “i hate you”s,

and you’re too beautiful

for me.

say goodbye before hello,

it would be nice to stir things up.

and i’m afraid that because of where you come from,

you won’t ever be able to break

the padlock that’s been put on your soul, and be what i need.

(ineediwantiloveyou.)

i’ll show you everything, 

i’ll be there when you fly,

i’ll be the thing that rips away your petty chains and tells you to just go and go and go.

because it’s okay to hate yourself some times.