#writing release

[hayleysword-blog]

Sleeping off nightmares

Theres so many people inside me  Trying to empty my inner peace Struggling to run from my childless disease I can’t be everyone all the time. 

All of these minds need to be exercised They can’t find a home for love to sanctify I’m a failure anaesthetised I can’t be everyone all the time. Every actions a thousand thoughts The dark filters reason my head has lost Feelings in reprimand are astronauts I’m overwhelmed with myself.

Awake in a nightmare I can’t sleep off.

Wingless Words Hayley Frances

[hayleysword-blog]

Wound Up Shy

The mornings are the worst. Muscles nailed shut sore Clenched crying behind tired punctured skin. I don’t want to be outside of myself. Superficial. I cannot create wild imagination with wish dust. I can only re-imagine inside. Bring attention to it. Get to know me a little better. Identify touch that others pretend not to see. 

It carries you to customer service. You become a paper weight for loose sensitivity. You become a cheque swindle, piercing receipts for a second of their time. Air sits on you. Forceful. A coherent mummification.  Wound up tight. You watch someone unpick crochet from a pillow for crafts with a stanly knife  It reminds you how much you want to scream into an empty forest.  But you are too shy for that. 

Wingless Words Hayley Frances

[hayleysword-blog]

The Blanket of Black

About Times sad songs  turned me to glass. The occupants of my torso trickled into chalice. Black came like a sand storm from the deep. 

The mind grew cold desperate fingers searching, love bound, trying to clasp and hold onto the warm. The warm now a blood swill in its window bowl. 

They became glaciers shaking in shocks violence to hold on to drink me up before blacks spike. The glass slipped on losses ice and spread cracks inside me. I stared blankly as black poured into my eyes. The cracks kept growing. I curled up to comfort the break. The chalice under my skin shattered silently as love tried to find a home. It was my rib cage opening. The shards of my beating biology dropped first. Coping collapsed as the edges of the rest crumbled into trauma, tumbling in choked screams into the blanket of black. My tectonic bust separating made way for the climbing dark. A consuming decay ravishing right to the walls of my skin, filling organ robbery with the blanket of black. The black became me, streamed down my face and asked for a painkiller in a sore child’s voice, to replicate the warmth it had eaten. On the first day, hours before the sorrow began, we started the process of getting ready for her arrival and had bought a steriliser in the sale.

Wingless Words Hayley Frances

[poetrybooksandpixiedust]

perhaps

Perhaps our thoughts need to be unchained often, so that society cannot speak on our behalf

Perhaps flashlights need to be used in order to illuminate the dark corners of our souls in order to foster bright stars in personal constellations

Perhaps the scars from shattered pasts can be looked upon as indicators of strength rather than the weak moment when the cool of the blade released hot anger and in return granted the control you could never seem to grasp

Perhaps the cruel reality of having siblings but still being the only child because crack sent you to different locations is not for you to hate but for you to learn, grow and love in both longing and presence

Perhaps I am looked at like less than because of my skin color but when I see me, I see that I am the world's foundation. Half of me kept the world from starving while I died (GENOCIDE) the other half allowed you to sustain economic livelihood (SLAVERY)

Without me you are nothing, Funny when the noose is on the other neck. With every gain I make, the chair that holds you shakes and threatens your life line.

You use your hatred as if it is slow poison, yet it is the antidote to my struggle and the fuel that allows me to continue in my inherited grace intelligence and beauty

Your false superiority that ensued a faulty attempt to brand me with inferiority will never enchain my certainty that I have a purpose and it is not to serve you

Perhaps, just maybe,no one will ever want to know what's on the other side of these notions but I breath this knowledge in order to thrive

Perhaps one day you will too

[poetrybooksandpixiedust]

I had a conversation with my mom not to long ago and she said. "You are a very difficult person. If a person doesn't love you right away it will not work.

I was born into difference and given no filter. Some people's struggle gave them sensitivity to subjects  that never formed for me.

I love so hard that I can be nothing but honest. I have fully comprehended that not everyone can handle that and it is not my job to transform into everyone's needs.

I can only be me. If I was anyone else, people would adore a stranger that turns into an empty shell that will overdose on confusion and be buried in the shame and denial that caused its untimely demise.

I choose to live.

[poetrybooksandpixiedust]

IT'S OKAY

Am I allowed to honestly say, "I know what I want but I am afraid that I will never have it?" I must be allowed to have these thoughts because they creep into my head ever so often with, sometimes, the slightest nudge and other times they hit me so hard my body crashes. These thoughts are normal right? Is it perfectly okay for me to feel accomplishment and failure in the same breath that speaks hope into the younger generations? Do I have the right to grab a soapbox and shout to the mountain tops the do's and don'ts of society? The same society who encourages the pursuit of education, sits by and watches hate, isolation and starvation. The same society that teaches us that only you yourself are important and that your person be protected even if it means crossing every one in your path, burning every bridge that walks the people of battered minds and body in hopes of reaching the silver lining in the cloud they were provided. Is all of this really okay? Society as a whole will never be okay but there inability to be okay does not give them the right to take my "okay ness" away. I have every right to use the mouth that they believed to have silenced with obstacles that I was thought to never overcome. Someone needs to know about the tears shed in confusion, not understanding why my life did not come equipped with a silver spoon. Not understanding why my lifelines spent their lives drunk or high. Others too money hungry to understand the concept of a loving family. Not understanding why the youngest has the responsibilities of the oldest and she's the only one that noticed. Not understanding the concept of candles because the light bill couldn't be paid. Not having dinner on the table because there was know food to be made. Not understanding the movement from location to location at the drop of a dime because the rent was way too high this time. Those things were not for me to understand at the moment but with every new epiphany, it is my duty to teach another. This isn't to solidify higher power over another. This is to help prevent the next person's struggle. I am allowed to say that I know what I want but I am afraid I will never have it. The only thing that I am never allowed to say is, "I allowed that fear to keep me from what is rightfully mine."

[littleblackangelwings22]

And I always get stuck....looking in your eyes. I swear I could trace the outline of your face in my sleep. I miss your scent when you're gone. I'm holding on to my memories of you. I remember each part of you and it's hard to forget. Today I find it hard to be away from your side. But I'll cling to the memories. I couldn't forget them if I wanted to.