Wrap me up in polythene plastic. Saran wrap around my lungs, and I do this to myself too often.
Build cages of fractured bones and punctured skin, music to my ears the flattening of thoughts that burn up in my head. I could let my youth take the blame, the hollow timeframe of adolescence carrying the weight of every reckless choice I had made. From fifteen to eighteen, regret built a home inside my skull, a parasite I could not rid my body off. I’m still trying, trying to fight it.
Continue reading “The Weight Of My Youth”
Prone to self-depreciation, the contours of your body glowing in fear, radiant sparks of colorless misery. Fingertips frozen blue, pins and needles pricking skin like never before.
And I wonder why your hands tremble the way they do. I know that we are burning out, slowly. You fail to control your thoughts as they dance against the fickle walls of chambers in your mind. Try to bring out amusement from all the self-loathing, try to bring out freedom in your footsteps pretend that you are not suffocating inside a bubble of clear glass agony. You wake up to be tortured mentally, before going to bed in sheer disbelief of having survived another day under the torment of the summer sun, skin blistering, gleaming ball of fire. You never liked the sun very much. -H
Hung on to the sleeves of your sweaters like they were asphalt concrete, dark and glittery leading me to the other side.
Your gaze pouring lightning into my lungs, lightning in my eyes and I could feel my veins shifting beneath my skin.
You speak in colors, your breath laced with refined sliver, rich caramel gold poetic, static to my ears.
Continue reading “Mysteries Etched In Skin”
I am frantically brushing my teeth at 3 in the morning trying to get the taste of your tongue out of my mouth, but I can only go so far before my gums begin to bleed and my teeth start to ache the way my spine often does under the heavy, heavy weight of your hands. You liked to place them on my back. My mother is sitting in the stairway, staring at the dim white light escaping from under the bathroom door, she’s going to ask me. Why?
Continue reading “The Taste Of You”
You make the sky blush
Irises erupting In shades of burning brown
Misery, in multitudes
Dripping from the cracks in your soul.
Unsettling truths that seem to shine through
Curtains of all your stories
Stitched in silk.
Continue reading “Infatuation, Empty| A Poem”
You grew up reading Shakespeare under streetlights and pale grey skies, celebrated and seemingly wise drunks like Hemingway were the occupants of your time. Polaroids in your pockets of warm days running into shops that sold records from the 90’s your friends never liked. Blueberry bubblegum sticky under the seats of your dads new car. He brought rage disguised in hugs of all the things you ever wanted. Bulbs of fluorescent green neon, sweatshirts that swallow your hands accompanied by dry skin and hefty frames of Harry-Potter-like-glasses. Acne, horrendous bangs and embarrassing yearbook photos leading you to messy desks abundant in thin yellow paper and black ink scribbles those you pray will one day hold more worth. So you tell yourself life is just beginning with hands that shake too much and lips that bleed between the force of your teeth, knees that turn the shade of a dull purple every once in a while and bruises that you couldn’t care less about. So you close your apparently very boring brown eyes and sit on your quivering hands and you tell yourself, life is just beginning.-H
Labels as I perceive them:
Labels can be an odd combination ranging from constricting air tight jars embedded with vague ideas of who you are or who you appear to be, then falling straight into classification of similar people to help alleviate friendships, blooming into concepts about your very being and boosting the process of self discovery, apparently.
Continue reading “Labels, As I Perceive Them.”