rough…

 

lines feathered and muted

rough art inside me anymore

uncertainty blankets my heart

I don’t really fucking care anymore (I try to convince myself)

running sounds sane

yet I won’t escape

I’ve tried to exhale

waiting to be delivered from

every thought and feeling…

yes

no

I feel

I don’t

I don’t fucking care (silence is convincing me)

leave

love

lie

wtf ever

 

 

 

 

 

cut…

it is moments as these

I am falling further away

felled pile of ruins

my chest caves and my heart unstiches itself

every stretch mark across my womb aches

a reminder of love carried

yet emptied is the state of me

when am I not failing

when will I become worthwhile

long is my life still to live

and far too long to be nothing beautifully measured

  only ever cut by everyone

deadly…

expectations;

rather you didn’t settle here

you only keep me far from abundance

my opened heart; understands

far beyond earthly limitations

deadly this mind;

3D prisoner

 

 

worn…

it doesn’t matter anymore

my heart is worn

weary in battle

I have me to love me

but it is the worst heartache

to endure and recover from

and now knowing all these years wasted

because in the end you have no control

other than to caress your own hand

wipe away your own tears

whisper to yourself

“I am here!”

some were just never meant to be loved by another…

the question I ask myself

“Can I live with such a reality?”

than I answer myself

“you already are!”

once upon a sleeper…

you opened my cocooned pod
I felt the ice melting
from my cryogenic sleep
raising my beats
from shunned to shine
I began to upcycle wasted tears
eyelashes coated with stardust 
I braved the idea of possibilites
conquered a black diamond run
one turn at time
I was felled darling
with black dove wings
trying to reach peace
atop your sky…

I don’t know now 
where you are…

til death steals…

cannot fathom such touch anymore
its meaning slit and deleted 
gone 
dissipated
desire
in the h0urs, days, months
lost track 
what is like anymore
in between the heat of thighs
moans and sighs loitering no longer
her youth stolen
her prime unwanted 
do they find pleasure in wasting her
no understanding of their inner working 
perhaps she has known all along
the poetry of being used
tossed aside
wasted 
unwanted
unloved
so offensive is she? deserving?
and yet she burns evermore
burn baby burn
Til death upon death 
steals this soul’s fire 

I have forgotten…

I have forgotten this thing
this thing called breathing
what it’s like to lay
effortless
easy
unaware 
unaffected…

I have fogotten this thing
this thing called comfort 
what its like to be wrapped
safely tucked in
warm
weatherproofed
protected…

I have forgotten this thing
this thing called forgetting
forgetting to forget
your color
your beauty
your reflection
sound of every word you’ve written…

I have forgotten this thing
this thing called L (cursor blinking)

no! I haven’t forgotten
*erases that line

I don’t know this thing
this thing called

…LOVE…