A Love Letter To My Body

I don’t want to be the reason you hurt
I don’t want to be your hurt
I want to love you
To free you
To not let my brokenness define you
I need you to know you are beautiful
I need you to believe you are beautiful
I want you to be my muse
My canvas
My joy
My peace and safety
I want you to be my shelter
I want to take refugee in you
No longer my punching bag
No longer my rival
Now my lover
I want to love you
To be your first love
I want you to know love


A Cynical Day-mare

If I could teach another organ to pump blood,
I’d rip my heart straight out of my chest.
Drop it into a river
Watch everything I hid it,
Gentely dilute and flow into oblivion.

I’d wash the blood off my chest
Close it up for the last time.
Clean my hands
And dress myself completely in silver and white.
Touch my left breast
And listen to the silence.

Surrender rhythm for freedom.
Sacrifice for love one last time.
I’d let it go.
Let it all go.
Believe less.
Detach myself.

I’d finally have the liberty
To find my freedom
Without everything inside me breaking.
I’d stop breaking.
I’d never fall in love again;
But I’d never fall again.
I’d still be depressed
But this time, I’d know why.

If I ripped my heart out of my chest,
I’d never love again.
I’d be left with only the memory of love.
The pain and the beauty
The madness and the illusion.

I’d watch the hands of God
Stretch out over the horizon,
Gently orchestrating the sunrise
And the magic she has to offer us,
Be immersed by all that majesty
And I’d just watch.

Trapped In Love

Loving you is a toxic river of hope.
Blinded by emptiness
Trying to reach out to you
Wanting to let go
Wanting to let you go
Wanting to set you free

I’d rather watch you go forward
And let myself fall back into misery.
I’d rather be trapped in hell
With my lonely,
Than gaze at the gates of heaven
With you pulling me into limbo.

You are my purgatory.
You are my safe space.
You are my familiar hurt.
You are, now free
Free from the chains of loving me.

Something About You

Something about your hands
Crawling on my skin
And through my mind.
Spell it out,
Without your hands on me
Write it out
Mouth it out
Mean it
Feel it
Make me believe it

Something about your presences
Feels so surreal
Too intense to be real
Just a little too clear
I’m beginning to see right through
So much clarity
So much fallacy

Something about feeling this,
Thinking this
Reliving all of it
Is simply mental
But there’s something about it

Voices In My Head

I recognize the voices in my head.
More so, their intentions.
Their words,
Like venom
Flowing through my mind.
They lie! They lie! They lie!

Honestly, it feels familiar.
They speak in tongues
I speak their tongue.
Their words,
But still, I comprehend.

They slither into my dreams
Seduce me with illusion.
Torment my reality.
Fuck reality!
I know it’s not so.

I spend nights alone
With all of them.
All alone with them;
It’s the same sensation
As a thick rope around my neck
Or knives in my back.
Just in my head.

I don’t mind the voices in my head.
They redefine my outlook
On life, On love
I’m eternally grateful.
I don’t mind the voices in my head
Even when they make me hurt,
They don’t have their fingers on my heart.

Wasted Prayers

No longer does she waste her prayers on happy endings. The vanity of her hearts pain-filled endeavors had become redundant. She could only bleed out so much before beginning to feel foolish or, not feel at all. She begs God for sober middles. She aims simply to make it to sunset and not concern herself with whether or not she will ever rise again. She walks slowly in the rain and imagines the angels weeping on her behalf. Even if they weren’t, at least sadness didn’t feel so lonely. Something about such moments, adds melody to lonely. The type of melody, that plays on and on until you learn to forgive or release. History rears its ugly head at the most unfortunate times. So she tries to count all the beautiful things in the present. She tries to be grateful for love and solitude, for sound and silence, for the fire that lights her darkness. Then maybe one day, she’ll look back and not see a victim or a survivor but someone she recognizes.

An Epiphany

Even in a broken mirror,
It’s still my reflection.
Storms fade,
Footprints washed away,
Roses dying.
Nothing seems eternal.
Nothing feels safe.
The fear,
Lies not simply in the end,
But in the journeys relevance.
Say I never was,
Would the rivers flow in reverse?
Would you still be you?
Would it matter if you weren’t?
The nightmare starts with me,
As grain of sand
At the bottom of the infinite river
As a leaf in an orchard,
Masquerading as blissful
Masquerading as beautiful.
I can’t tell you what happens
When I wake up
Because I’m not sure
If I was ever asleep to begin with.
Clocks are racing!
It’s completely meaningless.
All they do is run in circles
But if I don’t begin to make meaning of it,
I’ll be thrown completely out of the loop.

To Be Loved

Can you feel love all around you?

Close your eyes
Can you see him loving you?

Close your mind
Don’t search for options
Do you want him to love you?

Listen to your heart
Focus on the rhythm
Drown out fear
Would you trust him to love you?

Fill the gaps
Open your heart
Get closer
Seek closure
Trust him to love you!

The Abstract Dreamer

I don’t dream like everybody else. I doubt I could if tried. I believe I’d try if I cared. I dream, with my head on a pillow of ecstasy allowing my very being to be distorted by romance, adventure and ultimate desire. Everything that happens when my eyes are closed are mere formulations of my lust for another self.

There is so much magic in fantasy and such little desire or want. In it lose track of time and self. There’s nothing linear in this trance; just majesty and the unattainable. The aesthetics at the bottom of the rabbit hole are just as distorted as time and love are in the real world and finally, reality begins to make sense.

I pray that if my fantasies are mere fallacy, the reaper may take charge of my fate. For I’d rather dance in the rain than to a new song. If heaven were to grant me one wish, that is the decade must die before I, that it won’t be in vain. That one day I would awaken in a world where fantasy and reality intertwine to create my destiny.

I stand alone at the edge of this dark and foggy forest. I fear that fear will be my undoing if not illusion. I’ll place my faith in the arms my guardian angel. Listen for her voice over the screeching of my demons. Trust in her in spite of my dismay and distress. If I might trip tonight, may I fall in love and light to find life and magic.

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