Monthly Archives: May 2016

Loss

I’m not sure if it’s loneliness or growing pains
If it’s my anxiety or if I’m literally going insane

I’m tired. I don tire long ago
My incense holder is filled with ashes
The flames of former lovers that have died out

I’m still in school
Still learning
The school of life, for at this rate academics would kill me

My mother says she loves me and misses me
I feel to destroy the platitudes and say “I miss me too, do you know where I can find me?”
But I can’t let her feel my fear

This pain that I feel is so insincere
Fickle
I’m almost embarrassed to feel
Adding guilt to the new list of things I have mentally fulfilled

I hope to get over it one day
Hoping the bronze sun will shine me in the right way
The wind pushing my emotional debris in the gutter’s place
My mind filling with the water that lacks disgrace

Fill me up
Fill me up

My mind is tired of this place

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Late Graduation

Going through Primary School, Secondary School, College and University

To suddenly hit regression

To deal with our actual realisations of the world and ourselves

The curse of knowledge can often make one mad and lonely, often carrying our faces in shame, away from supposed loved ones who show no love anyway and disown our name, for we are too bereft of love to be of convenience.

The shame of our life’s failures fuelling our madness and disgrace

 

Pain in knowing those who share similar energies and hearts to us also have problems on the brain. Demons that they chase in vain often their driving force to being sane.

A pain that penetrates the membrane and sometimes manifests itself in the physical realm

 

But there is always that lone stranger.

The one that sees your pain and madness and talks to you whilst sorting out his life’s laundry.

 

This doesn’t take away from the shame but forces you to be proud of it. To wear your scars instead of being plagued by them, so those who spoke in disdain or held their faces in disgrace of you are the same ones to give your fight the energy it needs to be won.

And after the emotional turmoil

After all is said and done

We get down on our knees and cry into our guiding mother’s lap

For all the torture and pain still bore pain

 

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Familiars.

What to do when those who grew up around you don’t believe in you?
When they watch you out of the corner of their eyes waiting for your foot to strike a stone so they can accuse you of trying to kick a boulder?
When many keep you around not for the love but because of the righteousness in their own hearts.

Shame on me too, for allowing those who left me in darkness and isolation to then shame me when I struggle to see the light

All the premature judgments and accusations; rising water that threatens to go over my head

The voices?
The voices persist because of experience, not fear.

I am sick and tired of being treated like I am sick and tired.
I want some respect for my pain,
I want some acknowledgment of the pain I have gained.

I wish I kept this level of pain within, lest someone should know and use it as a source of my shame

But I’ll ignore the bile and the underhand insults aimed at my brain and all of the hopes and dreams I wish to turn into reality and gain.

I’ll turn my head to those who desire me, who make who I am desirable
And who accept me despite your claims of aimless insanity.

To be among those who do not question my direction because they see the light that my feel point towards.

Vilified or not, I will find my way in this life

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He She They

She looks at me with so much pity in her eyes, a pretty princess
Everything that she does is right
Confident in her speech and her skills and loved by a family that makes her feel fulfilled
She never drifts too far from the light
Her ride through life is exciting and flirty
Even when death looks her in the face sternly
An inherent beauty with lips that drop roses

In comparison to a callous oaf like me
Bumbling and clumsy, in my mind and my body, not one ounce of elegance to be found with feet that are so heavy
Butter fingers and dyslexic signifiers make my back hunch up, my shoulders hang stiff
Unattractive anger that I attained through shame and life experiences
A gruff voice that lacks emotional direction or appeal, with a hairy chin to match all of this masculine zeal
My ride through life has changed slightly, not so much flirtatious but now ridden with anxiety

You see, she is me and I am her

We both combine to make they because your definitions are not enough for me

Much like a holy deity

I am free from all sexuality

Not necessarily my sensuality, that has always been owned by me and she
We are the masters of this budding flower known as ‘My Pussy’
So don’t think you could ever take my sexuality from me

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Loving with your eyes closed

Constantly inebriated
To the point your loved ones become a target for that internal hate you try to drink away

So you try to be extra careful with your lover
The vulnerable type, just like you

But you have the privilege of being a bitch in your drunken behaviour, yet you embrace your lover with your eyes closed, thinking anything goes as long as I don’t hurt you

But you did.

You hurt them so bad
Stubbing a cigarette on both their eyelids, telling them how they see the world isn’t important

And so you’ve done it. You’ve become that abusive parent/lover/carer, the internal hatred slipped out and made you hate yourself

The social abuse and revenge attacks feel like light work in comparison to feelings of guilt rising like bile from your belly to your throat.

What the fuck is sorry in the face of your own inequities.

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