neither heaven or hell gaze from your eyes and i wonder if that’s because you made that vow to never love anyone again because if love was a sin but also a blessing, you. would have never tried to step into the swollen red abyss- below what fathomable tales were told to you about the princess and the prince- only to be dragged back up to the surface. torn wings, bound by some flimsy leather that i swore was something i adored, even if it killed you in the end. and for that i wish that heaven could have been nicer to those fallen angels- tar soaked, treacle dripping through brief temporal instances of love, was it? there is something clouded behind your eyes that rubs against frail sclera every time you blink but not once have you cried for me,, i must have mistook your tears for the rain...

four washed out tea-bags later i am insufferable, torment in what could have been and what should have been but never quite asking what was- we all know what happened then. it’s only the fact that i’ve been here before, the same notions. thoughts.

spiraling

back

again

inevitably. that keeps me from going insane. She knows nothing of this of course, building those ruler-straight bars between me and (redacted) is as ritutal as the fucking sun rising now and what i hate the most about all this is that there is not a single thing that could convince me that any of this was a mistake. i take the same knife still crusted with blood to cut out my heart again and again and again and again,,,, and its not prometheus’ punishment but something that has become some tokenistic motion if only to take some twisted satisfaction in the way the knife digs deeper, hurts less, and i beam with bloodied hands because i had no use for it anyways.

she is the monument to my failures and i love her the more for it.

splintered plastic knives

and a thrice folded ticket

to some gate to Heaven

that a man sold to you

blunt yellow teeth and smoky lungs

for your time

and a promise

to never love her again

which

i guess

worked in the end

what could describe the ache, the weary longing for stardusted brushes of molten skin (she doesn’t mean it and you know- so why do you still care?). you smell like home and a place where i could finally be safe from my own thoughts that plague me like some two tonne shadow that clings to my back and never stops, and i long for your touch if not just to feel the abscence of it for far longer than it’s there. the weight of it all bears down on atlas, but even he collapses sometimes- when you look at me through your lashes and the sky spins and spins. it falls towards you and spins, spins around us so that all i can see is

you

nothing but you

shes pretty but i think that she doesnt know, but i would give my heart to her in an instant. i fall in love easily but its hard to get back out and now i dont think i can tell when ive gone too deep untill its too late and ive got a broken heart in one hand and too many regrets in the other. i wish that i could just tell her how i feel but its so hard because im too scared to change anything, and before you know it the moment has passed and there's no point in looking back because whats left? nothing but my own misfortunes and a you shaped hole. and you can only do it again and again because my heart is young but my soul is weary and i wish i could find a respite in someone else because lord knows that my own head is a mess. i need to escape but its hard and i wish i knew a way out. god, shes so pretty and i wish i could claim every inch of skin she would let me. perhaps love is what drove all those men crazy- i think i may get it now. the universe dies every day i dont see you, and the sun is eclipsed with my want for tender bruised love that only comes with time and some otherworldly force some call god and others fate.

the sky falls,

spins like some crimson horse

shatters like your heart did,

when she said she didn’t love you anymore,

and the melancholy wail

of some long forgotten rhythm

moves you

to rosy tears

that spread like wildfire

and hurt

just

as

much

.

im numb at first

i dont feel it

as it caresses my skin

i push it further

blindly

..

then the pain

draped over me

like an oversized blanket

dragging me

drowning me

...

i can feel

as it rushes out

like a waterfall

of everlasting doom

pain i cannot describe

....

but in a way

i am still numb

i cannot feel it

i just push it in further

.....

i cannot feel

my heart breaking

into a million pieces

because how can i

when its ~ numb ~

from all these years of pain...

in this house

we flush our problems down the toilet

so that suffering and grief is only ever the gurgle of water/ wondrous/

thirsty/ as it swallows whatever we need to get rid of.

this is how we did away with my goldfish

& they say,

too, that this is how my mama did away with my baby sister/ coathanger and toilet/

felt like wet paint. said it was all dark

/and warm red.

in this house we break teeth not bones;

here we are taught: love is not gentle or pretty.

love is mutilation, soft /soft hurt,

feeding me your bits of rotten meat/ and tender fatigue/

and praying

that when god forgets you

& you become nothing less/ or more

than carrion amongst carrion in still water,

she will give you a (new) body

so much greater

than this.

#poetry #fiction

it feels like death follows her every move

wind against skin, lost in the dark of midnight, the wind that makes the smell of the death feel like home.

a serene ambience where sound is muffled out. the movement of water in the harbour

as she stands on the hill onlooking like some kind of higher power.

we’re alive

we’re alive

sat wondering why we’re here

lovely dreams of escaping to foreign land and spending the rest of her days in a small village off the coast.

far, far away from everything and everyone.

we’re alone

we’re alone

yet we are brought back

cutting her body in familiar ways

in ways the remind her of freedom or perhaps control

we’re hurt

we’re hurt

troubled children we have no right to want to die

lives perfect and laid out in straight and neat ways because this is happiness

when formalities are obeyed because in their eyes she can't possibly love her?

or we can be lost and found at once and be left fucking dead in the arms of past lovers

we’re dying

we’re dying

young children they don’t understand the consequences of their actions

and did they stand there alone wishing for the wind once more

because they're capable of a future in which the wind isn’t needed. we have money and security.

we're safe

we're safe

did you pray at night

for a returned soul without a receipt?

because we can’t escape now

this is our fate

we’re happy

we’re happy

and yet we’re still left wondering if life is a curse or a blessing.

we're a curse

we're a blessing

and it feels like we’re holding our breath. as though we’re underwater screaming. “help us” we say. souls crimson coloured against straight horizons. they're taking our hearts out, with curled fingertips against petrol stained boats and thrashing mountains of dead snow. plains of emptiness against dimming skylines, glimmers of light barely visible "we're here".

searing days and icy nights. this is the land of the free they say. bodies lay numb around bloodied hysteria and distant voices of our fathers "i'm proud of you" rehashed like a prayer they say in absent eyes. steady burst of ice it burns, it burns. i feel the bitter taste of tongue versus tongue and disembodied screams against sand afloat.

let the grasp of the night suffocate us. we're just children across no mans land, left monumental dreams and wishes and mothers kissing foreheads who sing goodnight. ignorant children against adult worlds with hands held, undefeatable. i can feel the ice and fear and death and worry around us. miles from home we walk ahead, innocence sugar-coated like dead meat. "we're ok, we're ok" said in crackling voices and hacking coughs. diminished worries covered in im sorry im sorry. soldiers we are. we know the way.

those who do not deserve help will not receive regardless of our cries. perhaps we're the unlucky ones in a forsaken world.

i want to go home.

could this ever be home?