I watched the storm and wanted to become her

Loneliness Is My Oldest Lover

You gave me distance

That was your mistake

I’m in love with Misery

Familiar with heart ache

Do not be shocked

That I’m comfortable alone

I’ve only ever belonged to myself

And never believed in home

June Gloom

June Gloom hit my garden in the heat of noon. I had managed through winter and thought that I had escaped my demon’s cold embrace and was not prepared to feel the heat of his touch. Who knew blue could be so warm. The sorrow hung in the air like a heavy humidity and weighed down every sprout I had so carefully cared for. The flowers that desperately thirsted for the sky fell limp on the ground. I have never seen petals such a lifeless hue. Such fragile, tended to blooms were no match for the vicious familiarity. Any attempt I made to water them and bring them back to life was in vain, it is the weeds who would drink it up greedily. They begged to drown in it so they could take deeper root. It was as if I was growing backwards, regressing. It’s strange to have a pain so friendly, and yet the thorns that began to grow and tear up this soil felt well deserved and I didn’t mind bleeding to feed it. They say you reap what you sow, but I have already worked tirelessly in this field with little grown to sustain this weary heart. Perhaps I am that which needs to be reaped. I have killed every seed I have touched and destroyed everything I tried to care for. I always knew I didn’t have a green thumb. I cannot keep things like hope and faith and happiness alive within myself. I am so tired in this heat. The constant weight is killing me. Maybe the only way I will have a garden at last is to bury it all, past, present, and future. With no more night and no more day I could finally rest; my flowers would look better on a grave anyway.

Dark Vision

I’ve tried to find love for this skin

Yet I only find loathing, sorrow, and pain

How could someone ever love something so vacant?

Of everything good I’m suddenly undeserving

My mind is shrouded by a  selective mist

Darkness creeps silently into my vision

I wake up and hate myself for it

Wishing I would have never risen

 

You’re wasting your love

Wasting your breath

I’m too far gone

Within this sick mindset

 

I am not enough, not right for you

And though I try I never will be

Better options lie at your fingertips

Don’t settle for less than you deserve

I am an illusion of ideal, an idea you augment

But I will come up short without fail

My burden will grow heavier until you’re left

With only regret and disappointment

 

You’re wasting your love

Wasting your breath

I’m too far gone

Within this sick mindset

 

You might think you are in love with me

But you’ll find it merely a passing infatuation

One day you will laugh at the thought of

Having ever been able to belive otherwise

And I will drown in bittersweet relief

Knowing you will have finally realized

You’re better off, as all are,

With anyone but me

 

Greatest Enemy, Dearest Friend

Staring into the mirror I see my greatest enemy, my dearest friend, hating every inch of skin, carefully trying to make amends. I hold others like newborn swallows yet do not know how to speak gently to the child beneath my own ribs. I stifle its cries, point out every flaw, tear through flesh with my eyes; I guess that makes me abusive. But words don’t leave bruises and though self loathing hurts, the pain is easier to bear when I know I deserve it. To push myself over the brink so that I might drown and sink to my lowest is somewhat of a comfort. Knowing things can’t get worse and that I couldn’t feel any more hurt than this is the only way to escape. Running is so tiring, my sorrow so alluring; to lie and die with Misery once again is the easiest way to stop feeling.

I think I was made to disappear. I cannot stay in one place too long before I begin to lose all I dare hold dear and fade from the world. It is not that I wish to let go, to die, I simply despise being alive. If I could only cease to exist…how soothing it would be to quietly slip into the night. Living in a dark void sounds rather pleasant; to float in nothingness, rather divine. My bones feel hollow– they echo and ache. This body is made up of odds and ends and expectations, with nothing being truly my own. There is no piece of me I love and yet every inch, I loathe. This heart has never felt the peace of a home. I fear I will never belong to anyone for too long; holding onto a ghost is no easy task, I hear. I try my best to put my demons to sleep so that I might not fear loving deeply, but they escape my grasp and remind me how lovely it is to be lonely. I am fading again.

I had learned how to live with my sorrows– I can feed my demons just long enough to sate their appetite, long enough to hurt just right. Flirting with Misery has made it such an easy lover to run back to when I can no longer fight to keep breathing in life. Being dead inside was the only way I could survive drowning, but now I’m dry and I’ve forgotten how to be alive. My lungs are exhausted, heaving oxygen when they had grown used to water. My body feels heavy on this dry land after floating for years through the trenches of the sea. If only others could see what I see, just how disgusting this rotting embodiment of flaws can be; perhaps then they would realize they do not love me after all. I can hardly withstand being with me, myself, and I. I am the heaviest burden I bear. How could anyone else live with a pile of despair and call it beautiful? How could they sense such a sickness within and proclaim their love? I do not belong amongst the living. I do not belong by anyone’s side. I am an excess burden to bear, I beg you, hold me no longer for your own sake. I would rather tell you the mistake that I am before you waste your time. I’d rather you cast me aside now with pain in your eyes than later with a familiar look of regret and disappointment.

Friday Night Lover

You thought you could be different

That perhaps you would get better with time

Filled yourself with this false hopes of adequacy

Recited all your prayers, all your lines

You poor pathetic creature

You will never feel the warmth of light

Your soul belongs to darkness

It is time to give up your sad little fight

I know you best through years of pain

How could you ever think you could be enough?

You may keep trying to be something more

But deep down you know you can never truly be loved

You are a fucking disgrace with no worth

Go ahead, dig your nails into a fist

It won’t stop the truth of my words

It won’t stop the thoughts of red wrists

I am the only one who will take you now

They are better off without you, don’t you see?

I will keep you safe and care for you

If you promise to stop trying to leave

You wandered so far from your place, my pet

It is time to climb back into this bed of dark blue

You were not meant to be with another in this world

Come, lie with me once more and escape into darker hues

Reincarnation

Perhaps we were not made to only survive

But to live and learn so we may once again die

Death of the body for a fuller soul, a greater divine

~

These bones groan under the weight of time

A weary heart feels the love of a thousand lives

This body is a stranger, I have only my mind

~

It is all I can say to explain this yearning, this drive

For something just beyond my reach, both ahead and behind

As if I were a broken existence waiting to align

~

Maybe I do not wish to leave, but arrive

Where home is found between vitality and cessation

In a tapestry of souls beautifully intertwined

Death’s Song

Lay me now, my demons, to sleep

Sing to me lullabies of inadequacy

I know the words, I’ll hum along

Broken notes drip off a bleeding tongue

 

Awaken the monster with your melody

Ask him if he wants to play with me

I know the game, I’ll play too

After all, thoughts don’t leave a bruise

 

Going about my day I’ll bob my head

To the catchy chorus “you’re better off dead”

I know the bridge, I’ll readily transcend

Over the edge towards the song’s end

Storm at Sea

I do not understand why you chose me. I do not understand how your voice can wrap around the words “I love you” and present them like a gift I don’t deserve.

I am the girl who lives like a storm, coming and going, leaving destruction in her wake. The girl who can’t love without pain and who can’t speak without venom dripping from her teeth. I carry this ocean of sorrow inside my chest, the waves of emotions pushing and waning, constantly wearing down these weary bones. I lick old wounds with salt on my tongue to remember the sting of the memories, remember why I deserve to suffer, remember that I am still a storm lost upon these seas.

Do you feel the thunder roaring beneath my skin? Can you taste the sorrow, so bitter, so sweet? Do you know just how deep these waters are that you are in?

Perhaps it is my embrace you come back to because you are like me.

Perhaps you cannot taste the ocean in a kiss without wanting to drown in the sea.

I am so hopelessly lost.