Those eyes so like my own,

Yet frigid like winter's gale and;

That twisted smile with it's cruel grin,

Laughing in derision.

A grand expanse so vast yet shallow,

A lonely void filled with sorrows;

Purposeless and vagrant,

The shadow wanders alone and afraid.

Sometimes I dream,

That the world is a lie,

That the world is ever bright,

That the mirror isn't I.

Sometimes I dream,

I just wished I'd believe it.

I sat in my grandmother's armchair, caving under the heavy weight of crippling depression. Since my sister's passing, every day has been an uphill battle. As I clung to her faded photo, a soft smile crossed my languid lips. I searched for the memory in its entirety as I drowned in the anguish of my loss. Every morning since, I found myself enmeshed in a relentless battle between life and death. I was suffering a slow emotional death, and regret flooded the shores of my tattered psyche. Had I done enough as a brother? My contrition rang out like lamentations.

My future was set in stone by my bipolar mother.

She pushed away any help or opportunity for her daughter.

Although my mom loves me in her own special way,

Can't she see that it's me who has "to stay".

Urging me to leave this dumpy state,

But calling me to tell me I left a dirty plate.

My mom's lifestyle is bigger than herself,

She buys more than she can fit on a shelf.

More clutter just means more for me to clean.

Can't she see I'm tired of being her machine?

I've been her therapist, her bank account, her daughter, her friend

If I live my life on my own, would she make amends?

She bought a house that I know I'll be paying for.

She'll have no pension, and she doesn't want to act poor.

She has no family, no friends, no lover,

"Who will be left to take care of your old mother?"

She made me promise I wouldn't put her in a home,

Sometimes I wonder if she'll unleash and let me roam.

I love my mother more than I love myself.

That's why I know I'll be her number one when she's by herself.

I know my sister won't bat her eyes,

Hell, my sister plans on following me until she dies.

My dad tells me that I'm far too kind,

I know, that's why I'll be stuck wiping her behind.

In another world maybe we wouldn’t have moved out of the U.S.

Maybe I would have kept on the path I was on.

I wouldn’t be here.

I’m not talking wouldn’t be alive which is a possibility

I’m saying as you know me...if you know me wouldn’t exist so in another world or life

there is a meaner, bitter, depressed, butthurt idiot walking around wishing she didn’t exist.

Be glad you live in the maybe where the deprecating, miserably fine idiot is walking around.

Not great, not bad, not unique but not what I would have been.

I’d recognize who I was but I wouldn’t like them.

In another life maybe I would have been smarter but maybe in another life, nothing would have been different except what body I was born in and the family I was given.

In another life maybe I would have been wishing for what I have now even with the self-loathe and exhaustion that follow every waking moment. Even with the lethargy that claims the chains around my heart. The guilt that wraps around my purpose clubbing me over not being a better daughter. In another life maybe I wouldn’t want another one for the people around me because everything would be perfect.

Hell in another life maybe I could be born as a housecat and not have to worry about this shit.

In another world, maybe you would have made it.

Maybe you would have jumped a little farther.

Maybe that rock wouldn't have been lose when your foot hit it.

Maybe the ditch wouldn't have been so deep.

But no such luck.

This is this world, and you fell.

You hit the ground hard, and we all knew from the sound you made on impact, that there was no use trying to get you out.

In another world, maybe you wouldn't have been so stupid.

But then you wouldn't have been you. . . would you?

LA GUERRE

folks cry out with

hearts full of grief

this war is like a thief

taking away any & all:

the young, and old~

men, women, ‘n’ children

families torn- separated

left wondering if they will

ever be re-united again

this war brings death

many bodies lying ’bout

like nev’r before— woe.

#LAGUERRE

Inspired by Chinua Achebe’s Collected poems~ poem picked:

’Air Raid

It comes so quickly

the bird of death

from evil forests of Soviet technology

A man crossing the road

to greet a friend

is much too slow.

His friend cut in halves

has other worries now

than a friendly handshake

at noon.’

People don’t understand that their actions or lack thereof can set an alcoholic back 5 years or a cutter back 5 years as well.

I get it you want to move on but fuck, don’t screw over the person who has never harmed you in any way, who never called you names. Always treated you kindly and opened up to you. Gave you parts of me I’ve never attempted to give anyone and what do you do with my parts. You toss them in a pile, dump lighter fluid on them and set them on fire as all my parts turn to ash.

Do you understand the phrase “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”? Yeah, you must.

Yet, here you are treating me like I’m garbage. Like, you never saying “your home for me”.

Ah, I don’t wish karma on anyone not even you. Everything will right itself at some point.

I am hurting badly to the point my best friend wants to fly to me.

Eventually I’ll heal but unfortunately for the next person to want to come in and love me the way you claimed to love me will have a hard time getting through my walls.

I don’t pity you.

One day I’ll forgive you.

Today I want to spit on you.

But, I’m better than that. Always have been.

She was starting to have doubts in her relationship with Alastair. She loved him despite of the fact that he was mentally unstable and that his life had been spent mostly in the hospital's psychology department. She was a psychologist and lately her friends have started calling her a 'Psycho' because they all thought he was trying to dupe her into getting him out of the mental prison and she was readily being a bait.

She went to the hospital and the first thing she did was to read the newspaper. That day she saw something in the newspaper that made her run down the corridor, she hastily asked her assistants to bring Alastair in the experiment room. It was all lit up. On being asked that why was she doing this, she replied, "There's this new research that says our pupils dilate when we lie." They both simply listened to her and took him in the room with the brightest of lights. His pupil will naturally contract in light and if he lies it will dilate even in those lights - this was her plan.

Alastair was a calm man. Yes, he was unstable but not mad. He had sense, it was just sometimes he would go out of control. Sometimes. He looked very normal and behaved the same but he had some disorders that might ignite into self destruction provided the unfortunate circumstances come into play. He had blue eyes. Was it just the iris or the grief that painted his eyes?

He was seated in the room and one of the assistant asked him many questions. She was standing outside and could see his back. His eyes were contracted in all his answers. The last question, "Do you love Miss. Mia?"

He said yes but his eyes,they showed denial. They dilated.

The assistants came to her and reported what they saw. She left the hospital in tears. The tears looked blue. For some days she didn't go to work and when she did, she didn't met Alastair. He broke her and therefore she broke up with him. Months passed and Alastair's health started to detroit, he didn't knew what went wrong. One day he was taken to the same experiment room again, everything was going well until his eyes poured all the grief on him and he drowned. He couldn't breath in the sorrow anymore and then he took the nearest instrument and within a second... the sharp instrument lulled his blood to sleep on the glass walls. He fell down. Slow and shallow breaths were not enough to sail him through the waves to the shore. Mia got to know about this and she hurried to that place. She saw him but he didn't, she was puzzled at the dilemma that who wronged who. She was close to him and when she couldn't stand the sight, she looked away at the wall.

There their eyes met.

There their eyes met. For the last time.

At the glass wall.

Time passed and as usual she went to the hospital and read the newspaper. Except for remembering the love and betrayal of Alastair, everything was same until one day she read the

- RESEARCHES AND INVENTIONS column in the newspaper as usual but the first research said, " Researchers have found multiple reasons for the dilation of eyes. Fear, Deception, Lying and seeing a loved one can dilate ones eyes......."

She couldn't believe her eyes, she ran to her assistant and asked, " Where is the footage of the day when you questioned Alastair?!? I want it right now!!"

She played it, praying she does not see what her mind is saying to her.

In the footage, Alastair was constantly looking at the clock in the front but when the last question was asked, his sight shifted on the wall. He was looking at her reflection on the wall.

At the glass wall.

- Adin

21 October 2019