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.

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.

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.

Angels & Constellations


There’s cracks in the bedroom ceiling. 

we looked up from our place on the ground as we slept on hard-wood floors

and claimed we could pin-point certain constellations

and we were dragging black crayons between the lines

because (for the first time) we wanted to prove something to ourselves.

We weren’t out of minds just yet.

we shifted the bed to the other side of the room

and moved the dresser in front of the window;

to block out memories of the outside and all the hurt we’d felt before.

we’d sweep up dust-angels and watch them follow our lungs down.

We weren’t ready to leave just yet.

incense would burn holes in our eyesight and fog our common sense

and we’d watch the smoke twist around our fingers all night long.

we were twirling and swirling and curling our toes

beneath the summer sun and glow of artificial light until we couldn’t feel a thing.

i don’t think we could support ourselves.

There’s cracks in the bedroom ceiling.

and you left behind a letter addressed to what you saw in me,

stained with howling winds and the wolves that hid in the shadows.

you said you missed the outside but you were lying and now you’re gone.

i threw stones at the door and cried all night;

now this is just another empty apartment.

i moved the bed again

but i still can’t stop waking up on the wrong side.