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.
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.
**We had to write this type of poem for my english class, about and exhibit in a museum! I chose to write about the “Bee Tree.” Really my first attempt at using this kind of stanza structure. Hope yall like it. Love you, happy Wednesday**
Black. Like the earth smothered
by nighttime. A never ending
infinity of wide open sky. But the heavens cant
be reached without the air stealing my breath.
Yellow. Like the marriage between
the rich sunlight and my primal need
keeping the flowers alive. But, still, they would
be nothing with out the rain.
Queen. Cloaked in warmth and dignity.
The love between us as beautiful and
pure as the honey drizzling down my jar.
Here she left me,
Alone. This hive is crowded,
the constant hums altering the
natural rhythm of my own broken heart.
I don’t know who I am without her.
Flowers. I nursed my infatuation for
you. Allowed it to blossom, cradled in
tightly. Close to my heart as we melted into one.
Now the flowers are dead.
Buzzing. Monotone screams,
reminding me this is home.
Drowning in the cries of mirror images
of things I no longer want to be.
Open. This space is overwhelmed
by freedom. However the constraints of
the ghost of my infatuation keep
me coming home.
Fly. She is no longer my home. I just want
this humming to stop. Buzzing to stop.
Heartbreak to stop. This hive has nothing
more to offer me. I think that its time for me to fly.
breath on my neck humbling the tremors in my hands. gliding. like butter. her hands wrapped around my hands wrapped around sweet ecstasy. i cant describe it. indulging in such delicacies. the rush of excitement of driving at three am. closing your eyes and pushing the pedals down; she leaves it up to chance. while the sadness drips from my veins she holds me, rocks me. hushes me. i can feel her tears burn into my cheeks. why is she sobbing? on tuesday night i tell her that i am done. that i do not want to do this anymore. she smiles-
“its too late.”
ten minutes after the bell she stumbles inside. late. the coffee on her breath muffled by the alcohol seeping from my pores. the dead of night reflecting itself in the circles under her eyes. i am tired. tired of seeing her this way. shes tired. tired of the boys and the booze and the chemistry tests. she spends hours in the library. hours calculating risks, hours analyzing equations, hours reviewing the statistics. seconds in the bar. seconds learning your name, seconds in the back seat, seconds before she whispers-
“show me your dark side.”
i felt the vibrations of her lips melt into yours. i sealed my mouth. please do not say another word. she ripped the clothes from my skin. i do not want to meet any part of you. instead i lay down, watch her eyes. black. i feel your body twitching. your sweat dripping into my skin. again i meet her eyes. glazed over. staring at the ceiling. the thirty seconds you occupy her body she is allowed to leave. three is a crowd. she asks me to wait in the car. stains of humiliation paint her neck, even after the darkness in her eyes disappears. on the drive home i ask her why she lays down with people who make her feel so alone-
“i love it.”
i stopped recognizing her. a strangers touch replacing a warm embrace. visiting a grave; knowing the body that once gave you so much peace is being devoured in the darkest places this universe has to offer. still i fought for her. like a solider defending his country i defended her right to sanity. i told her she was beautiful and intelligent and deserved happiness. but she described hating herself as a type sickness. a cancer that manifest in your brain and illuminates though your smile. she doesn’t seem to care. making no efforts to get better. having a so called love affair with every form of self destruction available to a nineteen year old child. i am lost. im screaming that i don’t know how to help her. bewildered i ask her who she has become-
“you. i am you.”
“certain individuals cannot handle what they have become. they project their discrepancies onto other people, act as though someone else is the reason they do what they do. they create a world where their sadness, emptiness and self loathing doesn’t exist. instead they are meerly a bystander, disassociated from themselves. we can only imagine how detrimental it is when they discover the reality of the situation.”