i played dress-up and dress-down for strangers
i acted as if the world revolved around something bigger
placed the bets, lost the keys
the mirrors are eloquently placed to attack the body at an angle
it suspires and conspires against my will,
the lack of faith has been replaced
by the absence of the bible in the drawer.
there are a mixture of hotel rooms this year in my head
they resonate with not being able to deal.
i like them.
it makes me feel in perpetual motion.
escaping from nothing at all
for only two hours.
the hallways are almost always empty
fluorescent lights guide my nightmares
there are panels i can't touch and there's people i don't want to see
there's no will to call for safety,
the mattress is rusty and unhinged,
how many bodies
have been in your head
this week?
don't talk to me or look at me or pretend to love me.
it's not like i'm here to stay.
the appeasement was signed with blood and sweat,
hands in throat
legs instead
two: a dream unravels
the alarms go off in darkness.
i sit and wait, squint and allow light in me.
then i notice the break in silence. once again the heaviness abounds.
hoping to find safer shores, the wind keeps moving.
it revitalizes my intentions.
though i hear how i have been betrayed.
the dream this time
told the story of how i was once allowed into a place
whilst hearing your voices.
i fled as soon as i could but
there was this room,
and the terrace,
and infinity;
it all stood right behind me.
'i need to leave without being seen,' i claim.
'i need to escape. they could eat me alive'.
as soon as i am out the door,
the vision stops right before my eyes:
her long flowery dress,
her long auburn hair,
(the impossibility of not being dreaming;
the sweat of the fear)
and the knowledge that her presence
was enough
to swallow me whole.
i sit and wait, squint and allow light in me.
then i notice the break in silence. once again the heaviness abounds.
hoping to find safer shores, the wind keeps moving.
it revitalizes my intentions.
though i hear how i have been betrayed.
the dream this time
told the story of how i was once allowed into a place
whilst hearing your voices.
i fled as soon as i could but
there was this room,
and the terrace,
and infinity;
it all stood right behind me.
'i need to leave without being seen,' i claim.
'i need to escape. they could eat me alive'.
as soon as i am out the door,
the vision stops right before my eyes:
her long flowery dress,
her long auburn hair,
(the impossibility of not being dreaming;
the sweat of the fear)
and the knowledge that her presence
was enough
to swallow me whole.
one: rorschach
destruction deems heed
accustomed to policies in vain
a shelter of capillaries that drip
a song unsung and a wound unclean
a soft heart bleeding
a chest bloating; midnight spasms
thoracic cavity wide open.
when she took the test
the images frowned upon me
and i could only look for bodies.
the countless times
i prayed for blood
for a swollen gut
insatiable images of weakness
unaccustomed this time
to the cry for help in silence
this time i hope
i can save myself
from the blindness.
pisces
i am a mirror.
a contained self-reflection that
from within the creation
has solved the problem.
i am the mirror upon which every body
i've ever come accross
has seen a representation.
some of those might have not liked
the true face of chaos,
the bitterness of an unloving childhood,
the heartbreaking reality of a never ending cycle of anxiety,
or maybe even their rusty old bodies.
feels like my body is an ocean.
at times i wish you'd visit my shores.
nobody is there anyway, ever, any time.
i am immense and vast as i seem,
not that it bothers me, it's kind of innate at this point.
it does seem to follow a pattern:
every day i wake, and see more than i want
which in any case will trouble me,
when the light blinds my eyes and sets me on fire;
from the bottom of my throat
water will rise
and will dispense
the calm from which i know
i come from.
a contained self-reflection that
from within the creation
has solved the problem.
i am the mirror upon which every body
i've ever come accross
has seen a representation.
some of those might have not liked
the true face of chaos,
the bitterness of an unloving childhood,
the heartbreaking reality of a never ending cycle of anxiety,
or maybe even their rusty old bodies.
feels like my body is an ocean.
at times i wish you'd visit my shores.
nobody is there anyway, ever, any time.
i am immense and vast as i seem,
not that it bothers me, it's kind of innate at this point.
it does seem to follow a pattern:
every day i wake, and see more than i want
which in any case will trouble me,
when the light blinds my eyes and sets me on fire;
from the bottom of my throat
water will rise
and will dispense
the calm from which i know
i come from.