my body is not a temple.
its a prison.
a hallowed out sanctuary. no one worships here. hatred. jealousy. loneliness. despair. nestled between the bars. all the while hope remains wrongly shackled in a cell of her own. she dreams in black and white. swallowed by the layout of her brilliant escape. refusing to let go of the ideology that she is bigger than this institution. her stories of appeals and tunnels and maps grow fainter as the years pass. time after time, the guards beat her with failure. strip her dignity. laugh at her perseverance. broken. its been three days since her cell was vacated. i dont know what to do without her.
its a shelter.
occupied by the lonely, the dirty, the desperate. i welcome them inside; tormented by the obviousness in their eyes that they would rather be anywhere but here. misery dances along the halls stained by a lifetime of regret. i watch in silence as methamphetamine rots a brittle man from the inside out. i watch in silence as undernourishment devours the once pink faced infant. i watch in silence while a brown eyed beauty finds comfort in tearing at her own flesh. they crowd my soul. begging, pleading, needing for me to save them. i cant.
its a tomb.
surrounded by the souls of the brilliant. i watch in envy as loyal patrons decorate their graves with colors of love, gratefulness, appreciation. awaiting my judgement, i maliciously calculate the severity of a every mistake that i have ever made throughout the course of my time. picking apart a life time of interactions in an attempt to justify them. i cant. its been three years since i accepted that no one is coming for me. i never once questioned why. the silence of rotting alone is too much to bare. every night i wish that my body was a temple.
so that i could burn it to the fucking ground.
buzzing. constantly. a stream of melancholy screams echo-o-oing inside my skull. like a patient mother to her pride and joy i hush each one, individually and by name. i reassure each memory will have their opportunity to be heard. felt. saturated. later. today i am busy.
its 5:34am. my seamless route to work tainted by the thoughts dripping from the corners of my eyes. gone. i needed the overwhelming calm that followed the serenity of opening my soul him. he took them both when he left. i cannot stop the stream of memories escaping from eyes; because they’re no longer mine to have. without warning my mind cycles through each interaction, combing out promises i refuse to recognize as broken. enough. today i am too busy.
3:56am. still i rise has less meaning when i continuously rise with a panic to disappear. my brain took her time with this one. sometimes i can still smell the thick black sharpie she used to strike through the images. breaths. heart beats. seconds. erased. i can still see the feeling. driving. disgust for my helplessness. my lungs inflating to the tune of screams: “i want to go home.” “i want my mommy.” “please stop hurting me.” quiet. i rock myself back to sleep. i am too busy tomorrow.
4:36pm. the middle of my sentence is halted by the self hatred radiating out of my nerves. not enough. not there enough. not nice enough. not skinny enough. not patient enough. not smart enough. not strong enough. the various voices of the souls i’ve let down seeping through each pore on my body. quiet now. not today. today i cannot be enough. this evening i am too busy.
12:34am. my room floods with the darkness of your absence. i can’t scratch the itch to save you; and its driving me mad. my soul attempts to find peace with-in the memories that haunt us. every time she fails. every time she is reminded that apart of your burden is mine to bare. you erase the trauma with toxic powders, while i’m forced to consume them plain. the weight of my memories accompanied by your mistakes is too much to bare. and tonight i am too busy.
6:95pm. exhaustion paints the face of the girl radiating out of my skin. unrecognizable. dark sacks of misfortunate events crowd under the skin surrounding her retinas. today we release them. today we have time. without hesitation i drive an axe though the crowning mold of my mind.
i just want to find what i’m looking for.
they say that no one knows exactly where memories are stored in the human brain. its humbling watching my nightmares buzz out of my cracked skull. i listen to each one. acknowledge each by name. ask the universe, god, the vision itself how i can make peace with its existence. all answer the same:
i cannot bare to be busy any more. respectfully, i decline the offer to return my soul to her shell.
it is too heavy.
and while my mind is plagued with the daunting reality of my troublesome encounters within this lifetime; she is wise enough to know my soul did not deserve any of this.
like a god, no ending and no beginning existed with him. ominous; a separated beauty. when he comes to visit me i am less awake. allowing the collapse of my better judgement. politely, i step out of my body; its his problem to occupy now. in the darkness of night he glides his vices across lifeless limbs. the mutilation of this body is humbling. she deserves it. carefully he packs the shell with sand.
i beg him to stay. he smiles, refuses, closes the door kindly. like a dammed soul dragged to hell im forced to return to the corpse. the sand thickens like cement. walking is tiresome. exhaust swallows me. i try to call out for help, instead droplets of grain spew from my lips. words no longer have meaning. my soul is suffocating in, my brain is drowning in, my hope is evading in these weightless bits of erosion. my only solace is the thought of his return. loneliness evades me, his presence appears in every infamous down fall i find myself existing in.
im not sure where we are going anymore. he bathes me until the screams bellowing out of my core cease. swaddles me in forgiveness. makes me feel able. petrified of my reality without him, i follow him blindly into the darkness. his whispers are rich, comforting, wholesome. “jump.” its agonizing telling him no. my rationals screams are drowned out by his thoughts echoing inside me. my want to answer her calls is nothing compared to my need to please him. i give up.
as i fall a lifetime of malpractices burrow through my skull. in each of them, i sit alone. its amazing how eroded the mind becomes when it goes mad.
a primal need to blossom . life. so beautiful. eager. drowning in the presence of its loyal patrons. i craved interaction with their simultaneously occurring auroras. god the beauty in fostering one another’s creativity. im so in love that i cannot stop smiling. feeling the tremors, laughters, intimates of society gives me butterflies. i never want to go home.
but mistakes came easily to me. judgement comes easily to them. “odd.” a infinite circle of failing, refocusing and failing again. begging the world for peace. i ask god to remove their eyes from my wrist. i ask the universe to send me a single soul to understand me as i am. how can they when im not making sense? exhausted. begging for acceptance. cloaked in misery. kissed by hatred. every chain mail, and rail road track, and shooting star and lucky penny i beg the stars to make me less. make me like them. make me feel less. i will do anything to be less.
i sit delicately in front of the mirror with the wire in my lap. hours pass. i pull at the excess disgust swaddling my beloved brain. i quiet her screams. i cant explain the detachment we feel for each other. my mind drizzled with her remarkable intelligence; my soul plagued with immense hatred for my entirety. its time. pierce the skin. “if you cant control their actions, control your reaction” pull tight. “ugly females should say less.” drill through the jaw. “the world would be a better place if you werent in it.” i lace the wire between my jaw. promising myself the sheer pain is nothing compared to the greatness of being less. it takes me months to get it right. the lace is beautiful. before i know it, my voice leaves. the decadent cravings for socialization leave my body. there is no reason to leave my bedroom; i have nothing left to say.
hatred is such a passionate emotion. is that why so many people feel it for me? my mind shrivels without the nutrients she needs to survive. finally. their laughs echo around inside my empty skull. i carve their words into my bones; in case i ever try to forget. the knives in my back eventually pierce my soul. i encourage her to bleed out. i dont care if it ever gets better. my spirit decays. my emotions rot. finally i feel the ominous weight of
it tasted sweet. his eyes so engulfed in my entirety that i believed the love we were making was wholesome. innocent. like a child does a watermelon on warm summer day he devoured my soul. sticky juices staining the flushed cheeks of a boy in need of validation. he bathes me in appreciation for the generations of alleles that have melted together to create the person i am. smothered in his aura, i find a home. i feel whole again.
he says that i deserve it.
i allow myself to change. i grow inside another while another grows inside me. i bite his tongue, i swallow my pride, i justify his anger. i force my rationality to forgive him. in fits of rage he rids our home of my presence. every time we make love he carves my secrets into my skin. humbled. i steady his hands. i have always believed that nobody can hate me more than i hate myself. my ideology is questioned as he tears into my flesh.
i think that i deserve it.
emptiness builds a home inside me. my mind is swallowed by humiliation for the person that i have become. whore. i refuse to recognize the girl who looks back at me. desperate. i just want to feel something besides this emptiness, i cannot stop myself from wanting to be free from this shell. obese. hot water dances across my flesh; your scent lingers. who the fuck wins? i dont want to be me anymore. i dont want to be me anymore. i dont want to be me anymore i
her burn is unimaginable. a sharp pain so gruesome that i wonder why i couldnt stop smiling. inviting. invigorating. intense. i feel at peace, knowing that i will die in her grasps. but again rationality acts like the jaws of life, freeing me from the crushing salvation of my own tomb. nevertheless, black tar sticks to my skin. wedged into delicate places and draped across the obvious canvas of my entirety. i cannot stand the feeling. i bathe in bleach. i bathe in vodka. i bathe in tears. i bathe in blood. but nothing can wash away the scars she left on my body. i wish theyd stop staring at me.
anxiety and hatred sit besides me while i wait for my name to be called. every time i lift the cigarette to my lips i bridge the gap between hypothetical and harmful. i think its better than a gun. but anxiety pulls a trigger of his own, leading my mind splattered into a frenzy of uncertainty. i ask him to leave. hatred follows me inside. closes the door behind us. exhausted. she tucks my hair behind my ears and holds my head still in front of the mirror. i watch as disgust drips from the corners of my eyes and runs down my cheeks, finally to puddle itself into a knot in my stomach. nothing can describe the sickness that overcomes me when i realize that i don’t want to be me anymore. i ask them to stay. im so tired of being alone. while the anesthesia rocks rationality to sleep, they whisper in my ears.
the fountains are running. water is pacing. splashing. racing. swirling around my head as i pick apart every interaction i had with him. i wonder what drove him from smothering my hands to smothering my soul. i wonder why i spend so much time alone. i wonder why i break myself to pick up the pieces of everyone elses broken heart, before i pick up my own. i wonder why everyone i trust to put me back together destroys me in the end. i wonder why i do this to myself. my rational aches. i toss my coin in after i realize the simplicity of the situation. everything is my fault.
i envy the quarters opportunity to drowned in the fountain.
i have often thought
of the person i would be
if i didnt resonate such passionate hate
for the person that i am.