I sat, still. gut wrenched, holding.
Nib to parchment scraping. cutting.
tracing veins that would no longer quicken.
until I vomited you. out. bleeding the past. the way out through the buried box.
contaminating the air. singing
as a newborn.echoing through the darkness.
afterwards. raw. eyes wide. finally awake.
flooding, senses heightened.
I knew. I was alive.
my mother is gone. no longer
can i call her on the phone, hear the smile
in her voice. i sit in the dark
thousands of years away from that moment
and picture home. watching the waves & the
wild of the sea quietens me, in my mind
something stills, just for a moment
the anxiety stops. the thoughts never stop.
my mind is never silent, turning over the strangest things, thoughts flip.
glass is really a liquid. i used to stare at
windows in between sentence & fixate, on this.
glass is molecules. it exists in the space between water, and structured reality. it is amorphous, like our bodies. it will warp, but can bend more than us
before it breaks. eventually everything shatters.
once i broke down. i was absent, missing
vocal sound. i have thought & thought
about where i went that year. i have no answer.
walls are still, but they hear & see
everything we do. i drop food on the floor,
see particles in my mind decomposing. breaking down, pulling away, radiating outwards towards the point of absorption. rotting skin, ants, worms, writhing maggots move all around. i feel them crawl
spreading over me.
i can’t stand to be. here, anymore.
my brain is malfunctioning. decomposing
from the second we are born, we are withering. dying from the inside
rotting out, like my mother.
i close my eyes. she speaks to me. she is gone. she is gone. she is gone. the reality of her absent form repeats,
she sits beside me.
love has been an unexpected found, lost for me before i dared to open the hands that clenched, trying to contain. bloomed confusion obscured inside the shadowed hurt of childhood. before i unlocked the door to inner self, found you outwith.
love has been the cold reflective, steel blade. understanding, giving. unforgiving. the release of who i am, my path back to you.
the path to emotions shuttered room, where i pray on tired knee. beg to die, beg to live, to come alive. to feel renewal inside, energies light, birthing the summer sun.
the fight, to barter with emotion. life’s metronome unbalanced. the constant flux. the unexpected found, the unsound. the fight within, to understand the eternal source, that drags me down to the drowning pool.
when you speak to me of love
your voice is all constricted,
your gaze is down,
watching restless movements,
birds circling your feet — today’s incompletes
drowning in substantive
thought — i can feel it — the reverberated
shuffling, night’s ripple of uncomfortable,
the awkward in-betweens of our life.
full of care,
care sits right over there,
with you. sits where you sit, somehow
it fits, & i am — comfortable
for the first time — in a long time. yet
my heart is pounding, rushing, flowing,
pulsing, growing into you, pulling away.
blooming — booming — my voice
is all avoidance, avoiding me, the day,
my feelings as all the words flow on repeat
and rush away — flowing forwards,
standing -— still.
and all contained — will never find the still,
the air around, the room in which we sit
or stand, to fall.
i fall, i fail.
the continual fall to fail,
below your feet.
and who am i.
a passing torment.
a passing — wasted
inside the blink —
of your eye.