Apparently my informed honesty is wasted,
Overwhelmed by stolen analogies and unfriend-me messages.
‘Unbalanced Alice’, so susceptible to mind-space deficiencies
And fairy-tale moonlight monoaminergic rushes.
The happiest of unhappy clowns. Careful never to grow up,
Because adults abuse their lungs and veins,
Simply to achieve the same.
Wanna know how I got this scar?
Let my trust stretch a touch too far.
Got run over by the car
That you happened to be driving.
Shattered limbs, broken bones,
Barely breathing, made it home.
Found everything I’d ever owned
Burning on the front lawn.
You said our life was such a mess,
Everything my fault, more or less.
It didn’t hurt much, I confess,
Until you smiled.
Destroy the things I want and need,
Run me down, for I concede,
The only thing that makes me bleed
Is that smile.
Like a knife, it cuts me deep,
Leaving scars I’ll always keep.
You ask me how, but already knew.
I got these scars from you.
Where do the pieces of a broken heart go
If they’re too fragile to stitch, or you don’t know how to sew?
Are they put back together with some mystical glue,
Or is there somewhere you can go, to purchase one that’s new?
One thing’s for certain, it takes forever in time,
Fresh hearts are in demand, judging by the waiting line.
Installing a new heart must be hard, I’ve no doubt,
But I’m stuck at the part where your insides are your out.
This isn’t really new though, it’s not my first time ’round,
First-timers wait the longest, due to covering fresh ground.
I always ask for Adamantium, for a heart that cannot break,
But they keep giving me a glass one, and no choice but to take.
I never see who does it all, maybe it’s Santa Claus.
If he’s not received my letter yet,
I’d like to add this clause:
“Dear Santa, let’s just skip right to the end,
You can forgo all the material gifts,
If you’ll hurry up and mend
So this is what ‘forever’ looks like
From the other side.
A lot like broken promises
And echoes of goodbye.
Like everything you never got
But always thought you’d get.
Like each forgotten lonely grave
Of every childhood pet.
The only thing that’s certain is,
It looks a lot like loneliness.
One AM is staring at the ceiling.
Two AM, the window and the moon.
Three AM can’t tell me what I’m feeling,
Four o’clock is too large for this room.
Five is slowly breathing in,
Six is breathing out.
Seven with the sun up brings
Another day without
Unsure, I feel unsafe.
Former pillars and paragons of my life
Now indifferent to my demise,
Pretend to care just enough
To avoid aspersions and lies,
Potential implications of associated guilt.
The small signature attached to the bottom
Is cutting and carelessly impersonal.
A full stop to the note :
‘If you do it, don’t make a mess inside.
I’m the one who has to clean it up.’
Suicide reduced to an inconvenience.
Keep one eye on the wolf, my dear,
And one eye on the door.
But then who dreams the dreamer, dear?
And which one came before?
So one eye for the dreamer then,
One eye, one dream too many.
Best you look behind again,
Before you don’t have any.
“It’s for the best.”
“It’s only a cat.
“You don’t want him to suffer ”
Such are the platitudes intended to make it easier to murder my companion of twelve years. My best and only friend. The most gentle and pure soul I have ever encountered, and quite probably the only reason I’m still alive.
When he’s gone…I can’t begin to imagine..
Now I must hold him in my lap while he is murdered.
MURDERED! despite knowing it will end his suffering and it must be done.
I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.
I haven’t done anything else.
Sitting by the ocean with the break-up blues,
You’re in my head whatsoever I do.
You’re the irritating sand down inside my shoes,
You know I hate you, but I love you too.
I put my heart into a locket,
In an envelope inside my pocket.
Should I throw it in the ocean blue, or
Find someone else to give it to?
I don’t know why you always reside
Embedded in my mind.
A single grain that got inside,
That one that I can’t find.
You’re an irritation to my heart,
The sand that I can’t lose.
But I know a place that I can start,
I’ll empty out my shoes.
The things you said
Have left me stunned.
I wouldn’t say those words
But the knives go in
And blood will run,
For you were not
The only one.
The worst is not how
They cut to bone.
But the feeling now,
I’m all alone.
You’ve said things
You can’t take back,
Then ask me
To forgive you that.
You act as though
There’s nought amiss,
But I don’t know
How to deal with this.
You act as though
There’s nothing wrong,
But everything’s wrong.
And just like that,
The world destroyed her creativity and dreams,
Like an ice-pick lobotomy.
Is this a darkness that you know?
One that covers you like graveyard soil
And says ‘You May Not’.
All those dreams sworn never to forget,
Buried deep in a coffin,
And not done yet.
Or the loss of hope that twists inside
When you finally understand:
You’ll never be any of those things
You had planned?
All of this.
All of this and more.
A darkness in which you wonder..
What you’re even alive for.