Monday, 31 March 2014

The things that we can't say.

It creeps up on me, like a ghost through the night.
Not the way a lover should.
Stealing my sleep in the worst ways.
My heart lies heavy in my chest,
With all the things that I can't say.
Swallowing me in the shadows.
I cannot bring myself even to reach out,
as I long to, just to feel his skin.
I fear in his distance.
A lack of desire.
I wait.
Hoping he will reach for me
even involuntarily.
Wanting his subconscious to seek out my presence.
It won't happen. It never does.

He doesn't need me, doesn't want me. At least
Not with the intensity to which I am accustomed.

I imagine safety to be something so simple.
occurring when somehow I find this perfect balance.
Where I can give myself up.
I swirl myself up in my invisible swaths of defence
Treating vulnerability as though it were a fantasy.
That in me;does not exist.
The walls I build take me further from myself.
So far that I lose my way.
Caught up in the caricature - this girl
Who feels no hurt.
Only laughs at herself.
Doesn't need.
Not a body or a thing.

I lie, awake.
Measuring the distance.
Wondering if I should jump in.
Or jump out, before I get my self squished like a bug beneath a shoe.
Second guessing whether it really is my magical intuition.
Or just fear.
That keeps me running.
That has me seeking things which may simply not exist.
Putting thoughts into other minds.

All I know is that what I need,
Is not yet here.
Not within my grasp.

But it may in fact be me,
Who holds it out of reach.

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

The Mathematics Of Time

I cannot tip toe around myself. I'm always too aware.
My limbs feel like they are made of some kind of heavy dough, I move with such lethargy I burn from frustration, at not being able to keep up with my usual pace.
My stomach churns and grumbles all day.
I cannot forget.
Cannot lose myself to work or idle thought.
Every breath leaks sadness, and a disappointment in myself.
I find myself doing the mathematics of time. Find myself lost in evasive theory.
But I cannot gain any distance from the terror.

I cannot speak words the way I wish to.
It is not the lack of ears to hear, but my own distaste at them being heard...
My body shakes, and I can't stand how fragile I feel.
Oh. How I hate to feel fragile.
Hate to need- when I cannot speak of it.
Cannot admit to it.
Will not allow myself to.

I fall, fall to pieces.
And pick myself up.
For I cannot let anyone else do it.

Weakness...
Is it strength or weakness that stops me admitting
My own human need to be cared for.
For I can no longer fool myself that I need nothing.
And no one.



Friday, 20 December 2013

Separation

Sometimes pain is kindness.
Sometimes, you are the monster hiding beneath another persons bed.
Haunting their sleep.
And apologies mean nothing.
For what is in your hearts cannot be removed.
The memories in your flesh, stain every cell of your being.
Loss. The loss and the grief strip everything out of you.
Your soul raw. Such depth of sadness it's as though your insides have been scraped out and laid out before you.
Time. The value of two, turned to dust.
Lovers without love.
For what does it matter, to love.
When you were once wrapped within it.
Safe. Untouchable from air or reality.
Remove its traces from my being.
To love but not be in love any longer...
The cruelest task set upon us.
Of tearing another's heart to pieces.
Of wishing you could fix it.
Be all that they need.
Sorrow.
It fills me up. Spills over.
All the years...the many days that made up our time together.
The care.
My heart falls apart.
But it is. And cannot be another way.
We fall apart.
We lose.
And the pain is unforgiving.
And "sorry" can never be enough to explain the wounds we are left with.

Sunday, 1 December 2013

Chocolate Milk

By seven, I'm crazy with loneliness.too many hours cooped up, exhausted in my tiny space. I cannot seem to catch up to myself. The tiredness is so overwhelming. But I don't sleep early,and can't wake late.
I lay there.trying. My head starts to ache from being horizontal for what feels like eternity.
By seven, I cannot pretend any longer
That music is company. Cannot pretend that however comfortable I am with being alone, sometimes it's too heavy. And I am too overwhelming even for myself.
Turning it off, a lump catches in my throat.
As though I've pulled out my own plug.
Just one of those days, that turns in on itself. Displaying inexplicable sadness...
The end of the day dips low. And I realise just how much I wanted to see him.
But I feel the urge to hide my need away...
To be the only one to catch myself.
I was ready to leave the house.
Therefore, I must leave the house.
I walk.
I converse in my head. The ridiculous nature of my being. I buy chocolate milk and head home. Crunching upon autumn leaves.
I forget my own methods of distraction,
Sometimes.
Sometimes, I forget myself.

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

Condition.

My eyes fall upon him with such softness,  that I find my self sighing at my own lack of the
necessary despondency.
This overwhelming urge to take care of him grips me when I read the unrest in his face, regardless of where it has arrived from. I want to make his mind quiet. Wrap him up in the soft waves of silence.
But,...he doesn't care for me.
Not as I care. But then- I care too much...
I should work on slowing the beat of my heart.
My mind sending out it's care into darkened air. Each time it comes to rest upon him I hope it somehow permeates his skin...
Making him feel safe. Even if he neither knows nor cares for why.
I give out without expecting to get back.
I cannot seem to help myself.
I want him to feel loved, despite my own heart.
My mind becomes tangled around his seemingly thoughtless inaction.
And I know I should step back before I fall.
For somehow his lack spurs me on.
I am no longer to be the moth at a flame.

Saturday, 12 October 2013

Nothing lies quite like honesty.


A voicemail I never replied to pokes me hard in the ribs, when I sink for too long into reality.
Languish in the mush that exists in my head...
I didn't forget. I wanted to answer. But I put it off, tomorrow...tomorrow.
The tomorrow where everything I need to do will be done, never comes.
Where everything I wish to say could be said.
Only ever half the truth. That's more than I even feel is safe to share.
"Everything is good, I don't really know why I'm here..."
The desperately booked appointment with the psychotherapist I hadn't seen in two years...
My grip feels weak, I want to let everything I have built go
Watch it crash and splinter.
"I knew it, I knew goodness couldn't last...everything breaks and you always fall"
Tightly I close my eyes.
I know the voice is that of fear, not of evil.
I do not breed destruction. But, I carry cruel habits.
I love without condition, all but myself.

I sit, going through happenings...things that I take.
Accept, swallow down without much question.
I twirl us around- look at it all from the other or the outside.
"I don't know how to stop falling into my own traps, taking myself into danger"
"Do I need to be less than I am?..." ..."is it only self respect?"

Respect... So much of what has hurt me lately has been due to a lack of respect.
My gut wrenches. How far I have come, and yet I still starve myself of the consideration
I extend unquestioningly to anyone else.
As though, I were the devil.
What respect does the devil earn?

Where did all this darkness in me come from.
Why does it seep out only to refill.
How do I keep myself safe from my own weapons.

I should probably reply to that voicemail.

Friday, 11 October 2013

The Ways We Are Undone.

Here we are. Strange and a little uncomfortable in each other's presence.
Living in this weird void, the in between before the final farewell.
He plays music that kills me. The lyrics sinking down into my pores.
I wonder if he knows it. Surely he must know it...
Destroying my strength. I hide in the bathroom.
Muffling my sobbing. Muffling all feeling at all.
I punish myself, for my disorganisation,
My fear at losing a friend. It seems...
Like cutting off a limb. I have put it off too long.
The decay set in long ago.
Loss is never unavoidable.

For No One - The Beatles
Two Hearted Spider - Editors


Sunday, 1 September 2013

The Melancholy Of A Happy Soul.

Sometimes, I go too long ignoring that I am overwhelmed.
By emotion, by tiredness. By disappointment in human beings.
I try to push through it. Try not to be so judgemental...because I assume that must be the issue.
My standards are just too unrealistic. My expectations too high.
But I accept too much.
What do I think? That I can change how my heart beats?

I find myself wishing that I could turn everything off. I need too much, for everything to stop.
Because I've pushed through what has been overwhelming my senses for just that little bit too long.
I start to get scared. Afraid that I am pushing myself a little to hard. Pretending a little too much.
The drips of sadness linger around longer. Dipping and rising. Like waves. Making me question,
How long it can continue.
I long to let all the strings drop.
All these strings currently keeping me standing.

I'm sad, but I don't feel I can be.
Everyone surrounding me appears to live so lightly.
Whether they do or not.
...
I want to put my hand up and admit to feeling like
Everything is falling apart.
Even if I know that isn't strictly true.
Good peppers the bad.
But the bad, the bad is wrapped up in my heart.

And I cannot let it out.

Saturday, 3 August 2013

My ship isn't pretty.

A tangled path winds it's way through the dark.
Plumes of warm, soft sadness flooding my lungs.
I take out my headphones to hear the rustle of the leaves in the wind.
Hypnotic. So beautiful it hurts.
I scoop myself up. Wishing I didn't have to stop. I would keep walking.
I wish I could just keep walking...
These dark days still exist.
In me, there is still the capacity for such immense...loneliness.
Is it not inevitable, I suppose.
Cutting myself off, closing myself down.
When I need people they are not there.
A self governing body.
All I want is to be able to fall down, and have someone else pick me up.
The funny thing is, it is only me who denies that very thing.

"I do not fall"... Nobody sees me fall. Only my words exist.

Across a dark field, a fox follows my shadow.
Tiny mangy creature, a little like me...
Then all of a sudden he disappears,
as if he were some illusion amongst my fumbling thoughts.
If it weren't for my camera...I would question his existence.
Almost as much as I question my own.

I look up to the stars where they hang, so full of calm.
Trying to absorb some of their stillness.

But everything shakes.
Everything trembles.

I disappear into the night.

Fragments.

The morning was awful, but then...Am I not awful? For being here clouding his space.
For having no where else to go. Now I feel like a parasite.
The tears feel childish as they fall.
I reserve a storage space, not knowing where it is that I will store myself yet.
I wait, wait for him to leave the flat. So that I can take everything apart.
Throw as much of my life away. Lighten the load. Make it quicker to escape.
For him.

"I don't know why you don't love me"

Where is the point,...
where is the point in trying to explain that I do. Just not in the way he deserves or needs any longer.
How many times can I try to explain my self?

Everything warps. Swelling with guilt. Guilt and sorrow.
For being this...this apparent monster of a person.

I feel like an intruder, upon the sofa.
I move from the room as he enters.
I dare not breathe.
For the air is his not mine.

"Whose fault is it?"

Well, why not?
Why not let's blame it all on me.

If it makes it easier.