Inflammatory Essays

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I

I am the ghost in this house I am the pixie in the kitchen I am the car when it’s cold and late I am the mother in a house of strangers I am the idea of love for a patient man I do not want I am the voice that encourages your potential I am the counsel to your darkest secrets I am the lover you never touch I am the clothes that keep you warm I am the lyrics you forget I am the coffee to wake your sleep I am the hand you do not hold I am the shoulder you cry on I am the wife of your house but not your heart I am the breakfast at 5am I am the cleaner and the cook I am the woman you never see I am no one.

[inflammatoryessays]

Graduation

I should come with a Warning, or maybe Later an apology. “You met me at a very strange Time in my life.” I am adrift Anchorless And without direction. Nothing makes sense. I want to do naught because The things I want I, can’t. And the things I know I’d be good at, No one will let me. So forgive me if I think I can’t do Anything, Now I have Graduated.

[inflammatoryessays]

No Regrets (I'm Sorry)

Is it an apology you want? I have a few for you.

I’m sorry that this happened. I’m sorry it got so far. I’m sorry

I’m sorry I comforted you and talked you down when things got too much. I’m sorry I listened to you at 3am and then checked up on you later that day.

I’m sorry I loved you this whole time. I’m sorry I told you.

I’m sorry I made you laugh. I’m sorry I could never lie to you. I’m sorry your words stay in my head.

I'm sorry I trusted you. I'm sorry I believed you. I'm sorry I showed you everything. I'm sorry I helped you when you said you had a 'problem.'

I’m sorry I’m still torn about this. I’m sorry for being a friend. I’m sorry that I’m human.

Lastly, I’m sorry I said hello.

[inflammatoryessays]

Bittersweet

I’m toxic,

I’m poison,

I’m bitter,

I’m mean.

Some of these stains,

Will never come clean.

All that I touch,

Turns into ash,

It burns,

It itches,

It stings like a rash.

[inflammatoryessays]

Take It Back

Turn around and take it all back. I didn’t mean it. Undo. Ctrl Z. Hit Backspace. I want to swallow all the words with shadows. Taste the bitterness in my mouth. Watch your face twist with sour sting. Meet me half way because I can’t do it alone. I know you didn’t mean it too. Complaints fester and turn into poison once said they’re no longer yours. He said she said, games, lies, danger.

And I didn’t really mean it.

[inflammatoryessays]

Untitled (You) I

Smoke curls from wicked lips as lies spark in the fire of your words because I could never see your eyes through the distortion. You said you thought I was beautiful but you just wanted to see. I don’t understand why it meant so much. I thought it was flattering for a while, that I could cause you to stir. If only I knew how many others do the same and better. I wish I believed you’d react the same once you meet me.

[inflammatoryessays]

Cyborg

If what McLuhan says is true, “All media are extensions of some human faculty, psychic or physical. The wheel is an extension of the foot. The book is an extension of the eye. Clothing, an extension of the skin Then could it also be said that the avatar is nothing more than an extension of the soul? Twitter an extension of thought and Facebook no less than extension of the family? “If the face is the index of the mind, then surely the Internet has become the mirror to the soul.”

[inflammatoryessays]

Untitled (You) II

Shattered chalice, though reformed, Can no more hold life, or empty words, Than these hands can cup the smoke, You spread your lies well, trapped in Your tangled web, dream weaver, fel eater Dark whispers, deep desires lost. Naked I quiver before you, ancient wonder lies between us Hands reach, and deceitful lips yearn crystal cheeks damned by floating light illuminating the truth, too afraid. Rituals of blood and promises not strong enough to tie forever secrets to be ashamed of. I have to be numb, to read through your letters, white wolves of broken pearls rings of fake ceremonies. Even though ours is a life of dreams, worlds collide in screams of hope Wings rising from dusty fields. beat blood soaked eyes no earthly honey can forgive hopeless river runs too deep.

[inflammatoryessays]

Untitled (You) III

Melting winter of earthly promise dripping from the sweetest clouds that set your lips. Satin sky tastes the ancient ruby sun as unspoken dreams pillow thy cheek. Tears of words quiver on glass eyes, I bask in your naked truth. While silent, hopeless and empty light smoke blows across the wind river. Roses sting hearts where passion now blooms. So late in the season do dreams shake the the grain in the field of your misconceptions. Yet the heat of deceit will burn the ice of lies, no matter how you acclimatise to the blaze. I sheath you within me, desperate for a way to feel your heartbeat talk to mine. Blindness steals blood from a beautiful castle Of tender petals for twilight wasps. You make quiver under your sweet suspicion .

[inflammatoryessays]

Whore

I'm a whore.

Not like I get paid for what I do or anything, I'm not a prostitute.  just it doesn't take too much to get me to let you cop a feel.  promiscuous, if you would.

I like feeling like I'm loved.  I get that being used for my body doesn't mean love, but making someone feel good makes me feel good, and it's a little like love in that way.

I'm something of a self-effacing monstrosity.  I'm red in the face and so are you as you resurface from between my legs.

I'm a whore.

Slut of the earth.  That's what I feel like when we come out of the woods.  You're so drunk you probably don't know what's happened, and you'd be damned if you weren't having a great time right now, wavering all over the cool grass under the night sky, laughing jovially at nothing but the sounds of crickets' legs locking together like violin strings.

I'm a whore.

It's less being a slut, more crying for help.  Less throwing orgies to get off, more because with that many people yearning for closeness, everyone can be alone together.

[inflammatoryessays]

The Flea

A drop of blood, to rest with every tear, It’s still the same, same as last year; I threw myself down the stairs for you, Something I know you’d never do; But I want to hold you as you cry

I want you to tell me your lies, I’m going to teach you to trust, All feeling’s gone, betrayed lust, I want to save both of us.

We are the same, we have the same scars, What seems so close, yet is kept so far: We are so young but we are already considering Escape from this world, so many times trying; No one understands, so we don’t explain, But I know what you feel, I want to ease your pain. Take my hand, I want to pull you back, From a world which is so cold and black, Deep inside yourself, come back on the track.

[inflammatoryessays]

I don’t know if I can’t do this because I’m not strong enough or if I’m not foolish enough. I just know that I can’t go on like this. It’s simply that I don’t believe the things you say to me. You say them because you think it’s what I want to hear, and because it will get you what you want. I’m good enough to ‘trust’ with the business, to live with, to look after you, to fuck. But not to be with. I don’t believe you any more when you blame A for not being ready for a relationship, not being able to trust women. When you say that you can’t stand women any more, that you can’t be bothered with them, that I’m the only one you can bare to be around. Bullshit. You love women. Any woman who’ll have you. You love that they want you and you’re in control of it. You say that you want to be with me when we’r e older, that now’s not the right time. But we can work together, live together, sleep together but not be honest with each other, to just be with each other. Either you trust me enough to wait for you, to be alongside you, to marry you one day when you want me. Or that’s all a lie too, just something to smooth everything over for now. I know you’re testing me. I know I have to prove myself to you. But I honestly don’t think you’ll ever see me as enough. You bring up that guy, that one night every time. I’m sorry. I regret it. If I could undo it I would. I don’t understand how you’re doing it correctly with L. And I certainly don’t understand where you think you have the right to get angry at me for being upset about her. We were at her house, you told me to leave you there, I knew you weren’t getting up at 7 in the morning to lay carpet with your brother. I knew you were going to sleep with her. And you must have known I knew. How on earth did you think I’d be okay with that. You know I’m in love with you, I’ve told you to your face. And you simply don’t care. You’ll keep me around while I’m useful to you, say whatever you have to to try and keep the peace. You say that you need to be young and free for a few years, and you think I do too, but in reality you just want to do whatever you want, whoever you want, whenever you want. And that’s not fair, it’s just selfish. Especially when you know how I feel. I just want the truth. You make me feel completely worthless and stupid. But I still see all the wonderful parts of you that made me fall in love with you in the first place. I’m so confused, mostly by how the things you say and the things you do completely contradict each other. I don’t know if you think you’re being really smart and getting one over on everybody, or if you genuinely believe yourself. We are so good together, without anyone else involved. I don’t know why you don’t see that. But mostly I don’t understand why you just don’t tell me, if you don’t want me.

[inflammatoryessays]

Visit Original Link

This about sums up my current relationship.

[inflammatoryessays]

Then

I know I am lucky to have so much love in my life. And I’m not being ungrateful. But it’s so hard, to have so much but not enough. At the end of phone calls the last thing they all say “Love you lotses.” And they ring for a chat, or to see how I am, or to ask my advice. I’m their go to person and that’s ok. But when all I hear is how much they love me, and ‘why can’t more girls be like you?’ ‘You’re my best friend, I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ ‘You’d be the perfect girlfriend if we weren’t already so close.’ ‘I’m so glad I met you when I did.’ And we are so close, and I’d do anything for them. And they do a lot for me too. I love them. And cook for them, clean, wash, tidy, shop, bathe in some cases, drive, listen to their problems, offer them advice when they ask. Help them when they need it. Their friends and family like me. Everyone’s happy.

Except that I have to watch them with woman after woman, time and again. I have to help them find her, get her, keep her. I help choose presents for her. I make friends with her. I listen to them when things go wrong. I am always there to pick up the pieces and put them back together again. To watch each of them go and fall in love with another  one. And while I know I am lucky to have so much love in my life, why do they never choose me? Never want me? I know the answer, and that’s what hurts the most. I love them, and I think they’re good people, but if what they tell me is true then the only reason I’m not in some amazing relationship with one of my boys (or at least tried) is because they don’t want me because I’m fat.

That must be what it’s down to, right? I could not physically, financially or emotionally do more than I do for them. And we’re so close already. We have so much in common, interests, hobbies, similar tastes. We get on super well. They like girls but none of them like big girls. So none of them want me. It’s shallow and it’s awful but it’s true. At least part of me hopes it is true because otherwise there’s something else wrong with me.

[inflammatoryessays]

You don’t hate me,

But you don’t trust me completely either.

You’re not leaving the house right now, even though you’re boxing all your stuff up,

But you still want to live with me after June.

You want to work together in your business,

But I shouldn’t count anyone else who’s involved as a friend.

You’ve always known how I feel about you,

But you’ve never wanted to do anything about it.

You’re not in the right place, emotionally, practically, financially or anything for a relationship,

But in a few years when you are, there’s a chance it will be with me.

What happened the other night can never ever happen again,

But you don’t care who I sleep with.

You think I’m beautiful,

But only despite of my body.

You don’t want to be with anyone else.

But you only don’t mind sleeping with me.

You want us to continue as housewife and provider,

But you can’t give me what you think only I think I want.

You could have loved me once,

But now you couldn’t.

[inflammatoryessays]

·         I shall be patient

·         I shall be attentive

·         I shall know my priorities

·         I shall be detached from all others

·         I shall trust no one else

·         I shall not talk about private things

·         I shall not jeopardise the business

·         I shall protect The Boy and his interests

·         I shall keep house

·         I shall be drama free

·         I shall become myself

[inflammatoryessays]

A letter to The Boy.

I love you. As in am in love with you. And I know you’re not. With me. And that’s ok, I don’t blame you for it or anything. I understand. But that’s why I do everything I can for you, your washing and your cleaning and drive you places even at stupid o’clock in the morning when I was asleep. Just so that I can spend time with you, or so that you can notice that I’m here. For you. And it hurts, to be that close and yet be on the sidelines. To watch you with other people, to just let you do your thing. But I just try to get on with it, to carry on. And I know that sometimes, when I’ve been drinking, I can’t pretend everything’s ok, that I’m ok. And I know you hate that, so sorry.

While I stay silent, and apart, I think why you don’t want me. Because I’m not good enough, because there are better people, you can do better, because I’m too stupid, or too fat or irritating. Because I’m not a good person. And it scares me, all these reasons, because they’re probably all true. I believe them all. So when someone who doesn’t know me shows an interest in me just because I’m me there’s some kind of weird satisfaction in it, like they’re disproving all those reasons. That’s why I slept with that guy. And I am sorry. I’m sorry for sleeping with one of your customers. I’m sorry for leaving his friend with you late at night when you needed to sleep. I’m sorry for not thinking things through. I know it was a stupid mistake, and I know it could have cost you.

I only ever wanted to look after you. I wanted to help make your life easier. I wanted to make you happy. But I just can’t do that, no matter how hard I try. I always fuck up somewhere, do something wrong that annoys you, or angers you, or creates some kind of hazard towards you. And I’m sorry for that too. And if everything I do really has fucked you off, then I guess I’m surprised it took you this long to bail.

I don’t even know if you’ll read this, but I do know that I would never have been able to say this to you face to face. But I couldn’t let you leave without telling you. So there’s that. And I’m sorry you ever had the misfortune to meet me.