From my skin, to yours

I would rather die of passion, than boredom- Vincent Van Gogh

[writtenfrommybody]

bashful

The very first time I saw your blue eyes, I remembered the ocean in hers.

My sweetheart, you are the moon that dances between my palms.

Every time I touch you, I think of angel dust.

My loving boy, my home and heart, the soul of my soul.

You are the reason I know heaven is real

I look at you and I know that you came from perfection.

My darling boy, the reflection of all that I love

the mirror of the one I call my own

in soul, but not in flesh.

You give me a reason, to maintain my divine breath.

It is for you that I hold on to his rope

and for you that I intertwine my spirit into the vine of his love.

My sweet sun, the axis in which I rotate around

the centrality of my life

the inner core of my earth

the beacon of my galaxy

the manifestation of her womb

the manifestation of her blood

the manifestation of her bones.

You are the reason I went from loving her

to falling in and out and beyond myself

for her.

When she held you inside herself, I tried to

turn into air, so she can inhale me

into her lungs

and swallow me

into her abdomen

so I land at

your feet.

Son of hers

son of hers

son of hers

son of hers

son of hers

son of hers

son of his.

I thank god everyday

I never had a

son of mine

so he could never take away from your time.

I look at your father, and I morph into him

so I can imagine what it is like

to be the one at the hip of your mother

and the one who gets to hear your cries.

When we enter heaven one day

I long for you to stretch your arms out to me

and call me mummy

and her mama

and we will be the happiest of families

under the light of god

and there will never be a moment

where I would have to turn my face away

when he neglects to hold her

because I will have my arms

around you both

for always

and eternity.

My, son.

ill never forget the first moment I knew you would come

I fell to my knees, in worship

weeping, in awe.

And when I would rest my forehead against the womb

of your home, I would feel your white light

shine through her yellow one

and everything was starlight.

The first time I held you, I disintegrated

into the earth

and was remoulded and modelled

into being the servant

that submits to your every

cry and wound.

How I love you

how I love you

how I love you.

And the only one I love

more than you is her

for she gave me you.

She is the temple that

hosted my idol

in the den of her

golden roots.

Ill always love you

like I always love her

like I always love god.

My love for you

is circular

cyclical

repetitive

looping

endless

eternal

divine

godly

but only when

no one

but he

is watching

not even

her.

In this world, I will live in the shadow of your father

and when we reach Eden, he will greet me

as the woman of the house

you will call home.

My only

sonshine.

[writtenfrommybody]

Deep breath, shallow heart

Love is the sinking of my bones, love is my skeleton itself.

It is heavy, dense and despite its durability it is both

mendable and breakable.

My skin was made too tight for my own limbs

like I was injected with Botox from  birth.

Except aging was meant to be a natural process

and my heart remained young..

It hurts to have a young heart and an old mind.

It hurts to have a bold spirit and thoughts that are so unkind.

I wonder how ill be able to carry myself with my own two hands.

I am no contortionist I cannot bend over backwards to catch myself.

I find that I grow tired the more I fall in love.

My cup overflows and eventually I cannot see the rim

I am drowning between my own tenderness.

A tenderness that cannot be matched I am silk soft.

They all preach the desire to have unconditional love

yet how can unconditional love exist in conditioned minds.

Most hearts I have met are square, there is always a jagged edge somewhere.

Mine runs full circle, cyclical, repetitive, eternal, exhausting.

I just want to be as free in my flesh as I am in my spirit.

I am art, contemporary.

I dance to the silence of the wind.

I just want someone to hear the way it whispers.

I don’t believe in good and evil

I believe in love and the absence of it.

I am love yet I am the one who is met with the absence of it.

I am too much for this word, for myself.

The ocean is a drying space beside me.

I drown the sea in my own desire.

It is such a joyfully miserable life to love so intensely.

I find myself alone all the time, especially when I am making love.

For I would give my body, all seven layers of it

like heaven.

While most people are snakes, they give you their first layer

and then they shed it

they shed you.

So replaceable you are to most people

but I have never been good at upgrading

now was I much of a preservationist

I’ve always been more

complex  than that.

I want to fall in love with someone who is art

all forms of it.

Who will challenge me enough to want to kiss the devil

and remember his days of worship.

I want to fall in love with a mad man as a mad woman

only then will I feel sane.

My lover is my whole soul

but he is so sane

and it reminds me everyday how mad I am.

I am a poem and he is a manual

and even though everything he says is true

and all I say is whimsical

I wish I could turn his instructions

into abstractions.

I want to tear out some of his pages

and mix them up

so his step one is near his step 10

and we laugh madly at the dysfunction before us

until we find a way to make it work.

He will find another

and another

and another.

He is sane, there are many like him.

I will sit here in my beaming heart

with flesh that rots around it

hoping to be seen

by the delirious

soul in this world.

How irrational is my desire

I want an individual who cannot pause

to stop and stand still

so they can see me

the woman who never stops running.

If I knew that he needed me as I needed him

I would perhaps lay down in the grass

and become a daffodil.

Except I see how he will grow indifferent to me

and this makes all the difference to me.

For I selfishly desire for someone

to have bones that are breakable

if I was to break away from them.

But I have fallen in love with someone who is so mendable

and who has made me so breakable

and I want to runaway from my own fragility

except I am like someone with brittle bone disease

one wrong move

and I will twist

and turn

and disintegrate

into nothingness.

my cracks will permeate into the soil

and I will be buried alive

because I believed I could outrun my heart

that rushes at the speed of light

in the midst of all my darkness.

and I sit there and watch it all unfold

helpless before my own existence

I am flawed

and flawless

and flowing

and fragmented.

perhaps I was made to be tempered glass

shattering the moment I crash

but designed to cut no one

except myself.

What a wonder

this war is

where I will be defeated

by everything

except

by the one thing

I desired to conquer.

My heart.

[writtenfrommybody]

bolus

We stay up the mad men and bounce from wall to wall

like a ping pong, energy colliding we wonder how we

were ever seen as sane at all.

In the day we wear the mask of the mundane

we wear a pressed iron shirts and we

use our birth name.

When the sunsets so do our assets.

The angels and demons in our bones surface.

Everything starts either rocking or dancing.

How do I explain that the only time I can be

completely regulated is when I am in

the most chaotic corner of my mind.

I do not dance with the devil, I simply talk to him.

How can I understand myself if I have never

spoken to the one who runs through my veins.

Angels lie on my shoulder

but the devil lives in my breast bone.

And when my shoulders sink

my eyes fall and hit my sternum.

The devil lives above our heart and not within it.

And as the Romanian schizophrenic says

We have been to hell but we do not live in it.

The difference between fire being above our heart

and not in its core

and us going to the fire

and not the coal

is the difference between

the gentle breeze

and the silent wind.

You need to look carefully inside yourself

to ensure that the lines are distinguished.

Never allow yourself to be tempted enough

to blend them together.

They will never be the mixture of blue and yellow

turning green.

Rather they will be your hopeful heart

mixing blue and yellow

hoping you will create magenta

but envy unleashes

and it is lime in the face

and it sprays in your eye

like poison in the honey

one taste and you will feel

the insides of your bones collide!

Trust me when I tell you there is nothing

sweet about kissing his lips

no matter how much they look like

everything you have ever wanted to taste.

Eden was a garden made for a single apple

to be bitten into, signifying the desire

for something we hold on to.

The reality that, the sweeter the apple looks

the rottener it tastes.

And no bite is worth knowing

just how bitter its seeds are.

I know it is hard to listen

to what the lord says

for you have your own lord

in your mind

we call him ego.

And ego unlike god

is not worthy of being worshipped.

But is always prostrating

to itself anyway.

Trust me when I tell you

I have lived my whole life

hoping to draw out magenta

from mixing blue and yellow

and all I ever got was

green

evergreen.

And now I am moss

you slide on me

and fall face first

when you try

to walk my path.

I am a bumpy ride

that is flat. I know what the apple from the garden tastes like

and I promise you it is

neither bitter

nor sweet

but tasteless

and unlike water

it never quenches you

it leaves you parched.

It is no giver the garden

nor is it a receiver

just a plane deceiver.

Trust me

I don’t just see things

I devour them

and they devour me

and I stand before you

as bolus

chewed

and spat out

absolutely worthless.

One took a bite of me

and realised how

ungratifying I am.

Tell me, why would you choose to be bolus

that is choked on

as opposed to being a seed

that is watered

nourished

grown

and a source of sustenance.

Trust me

when I tell you

I talk to angels

and demons

and neither have wings.

One is all heart

the other all imagination

and in hearts we are found

and in imagination we are lost.

So tell me

do you choose the yellow brick road

or the labyrinth that ends

with you

in the beginning.

[writtenfrommybody]

Thats how love looks like

I never thought I would fall in love like this again.

I wasn’t expecting for my heart to swell, like it was being

Beaten into life, and revived from death.

I fear this feeling, that makes me feel fearless, and life seem

So eternal, even though it’s fleeting.

He has a grip on me that I cannot express, he has a hold on me

That leaves me toppling loosely.

I am free falling and my feet don’t touch the ground.

Because I know for certain I am dreaming.

He is too good to be true, too good, too.

Good.

I keep waiting for the day in which I will become a shadow again

Something that is passing.

I wonder how long it’ll take him to see me with grey eyes.

I wonder how long it’ll take him to shake off the exhilaration he feels

At the sound of my breath.

My problem has always been that my heart is larger than the ocean

More wild than the wind

More encapsulating than the sky.

I feel too much, too quickly, I feel too much, too quickly.

I just feel too much, for a world that does not feel at all.

I am all heart, all soul, trapped in flesh.

My bones are made of light, my breath made of angel dust.

My mind.. The coal lying under the caldron.

I am destitute before my own spirit, I look at it with shame.

I tell it I am sorry for feeling deeper than I should again.

My walls are so think, they are like craft paper.

Except there is nothing artistic about me.

I know if he was to let me go, my soul would leave me.

I don’t think I could revive myself after the death of our love.

I don’t think I could rise again if he looked at me and said he’s had enough.

What will I say to him, if he tells me my time is up?

I’ll smash every clock to exist, and tell him

Time has never been a concept.

Other than eternity, and you and I must be in this together?

I have never feared losing anyone more than I fear losing you.

And I guess, that’s what love looks like?

Right…

I have never looked at someone and found beauty in every crevice

Within them, you could be a mess and in my eyes

You are still sculpted by god.

That’s what love looks like?

I wonder, how I’ll deal with you walking away from me.

Will I fall at your feet?

Will I turn my back?

Will I close my eyes and pretend you never existed?

Or will I plant my feet beside yours

Because I cannot fathom a single breath of mine

Leaving my chest, without you.

You lie, near my lungs, in my breast bone.

I lie, in your rib cage.

You will always be apart of me,

But will I always be apart of you?

Or will I be a-part, of you.

Or will I be, what departs from you.

Will you give me my rib back and stuff it in it’s cage

So I am imprisoned in my own flesh?

Tell me, will love always look like this?

Or will it stop looking one day.

How will love, look like.

My love.

[writtenfrommybody]

3AM THOUGHTS: SEROTONIN, A MAD WOMANS DRUG

Neurotypical, NeuroNormative, NeuroBalanced

Words I have no relatability to, words I have never tasted.

I wonder who was the first person to define those who saw

Beyond the colours of the rainbow, as mad?

I wonder who coined the term insane, I wonder who made it seem

Like we were tumbling down, just because we could hear

Conversations that would happen between the stars.

Normality seems so mad to me, balance so maddening to me.

I could never understand what is so calming, about hearing

A single tone inside your skull.

My mind is made up of an orchestra, a crescendo, an inferno, an entire

Board of different people.

I see the world in hieroglyphics, everything, means something, beyond the meaning

Of the thing, it is meant to be, meaningful towards.

Definitions are so interesting to me.

I wonder who thought of formulating the dictionary, and what kind of dictator they were

To dictate, how we dissect, the way in which people think.

Mental illness, seems like a weak minded mans word.

A term used by an individual who felt inconvenienced by difference.

I could say that those who have never felt with blinding intensity

Have never truly seen.

I could say that those who have never had layered conversations

In the centre of their mind, are mute.

I could say that those who look at skin and cannot see colours

Seeping out of the very canvas that is their flesh

Have never truly touched.

I could say that those who have never lost track of time

Have never understood the depth of what it means

For the sun to rise and set.

Sanity is laced with vanity, the neurologically sane walk on their

High horses, but in my eyes they are all lying flat on gravel.

My neurons were made to float and tip, kind of like the sea

They crash together, rise and fall.

I have never felt more understood than when I am in a room

Full of people of COLOUR

Skin and bones

Mind and soul.

I adore the way schizophrenics take me to the past, present, future

And mould it into one, like pottery they rotate all worlds

Until they form in the centre of the earth

And everything Is dancing.

I adore the way people who are borderline, try to grab you

By pushing you away, the resistance is exhilarating

And I can always keep up, because I love the heat.

I love the way people with ADHD can grow so lost

In the cracks on the floor, I adore the labyrinth in their mind

I zoom in like they do, and trust me the first person to see a rose rise

From concrete, was someone with ADHD who paused for 2 hours

To peek, into the seeds growing in places no one thought to look for.

I love the way autistic people stim, the way they rock, clap, flap

And coo. The way every feeling is APPARENT, you never have to guess

Sarcasm goes out the door, their literal nature is so grounding to me.

I love the way people with bipolar, look like the middle of the forest

The heat of the desert, the middle of a typhoon, the calmness of a lagoon

The way they speak like the words are tumbling down, except in a contradictory way

They tumble UP, two souls In one body.

I love the way people with DID, are able to dedicate an entire identity to a single trait

Tell me, what kind of mind does one have to posses, to birth 30 people into one body.

I will converse with each one of you, and I will never mix up a single name twice.

You could never see what we see, you call us freaks, yet we are freaked out

By your placid, stable mind.

If we were a museum, we would be contemporary.

If we were music, we would be electric.

If we were art, we would be abstract.

If we were poetry, we would be spoken.

If we were a season, we would be a summer

In the middle of winter

Or an autumn, in the middle of spring.

If we were a colour, we would be magenta blue ( you wouldn’t understand).

I wouldn’t trade my splattered canvas that is a mix between blood and holy water

For a single thing.

I would rather spend the rest of my life, whispering to trees

Dancing with bumble bees

Talking to the faefolk

Having lunch with the crows

Speaking whale

Then live a single day, speaking typical.

Those who call us mad, are just infuriated by the fact that they could not crack us

Even though to them we are nuts.

Some things, are not made to be torn open by just any pair of palms.

Our delicious vulnerability, is only reserved

For hands that glow in the dark

And carry angel dust between their fingers.

As for you, with your hands made of plastic

And ashes, ancient and dead.

Keep them off me and my mind.

In my dictionary, and world of definitions.

I see you, as completely dysfunctional

Sick

Twisted

And absolutely

Insane

For seeing

The sky

As

Blue

Cant you see

That it’s a thousand shades

Of orange and pink

At 12AM?

Or are you still blinded by

Your straight line

And consistency.

How utterly…

Dull…

Grey was made for you

Normies.

We will happily take all the colours there is

Stick to your comfort zone

For we, never felt uncomfortable

In the first place

Except, when we look

At something, as discomforting as you.

Ill seek comfort, with those

Who are seen as deviant

And sit with them, in the temple

Of their holy world.

Where whispering to yourself

Is always

Seen

As a prayer

And never

A curse.

[writtenfrommybody]

I smell of gardenia and burning wood

My bones were never made or marble like white milky structures,

 they always resembled the branches of trees.

My veins never held warm blood mixed with venom, 

but deep roots that give life to all that is within them.

My heart is the nectar of flower beds and my mind is the fruit of trees.

My soul is the smell of gardenia and jasmine.

My fingertips the rustling of the leaves.

My Breath rosemary and basil laden, fragrant as the earth.

My eyes like the honeysuckle at the end of fig trees.

My life is the roaring storm, a typhoon and of itself.

My road like rocky dessert with miraculous pine.

My past resembling a series of unfortunate events.

My love, my love, my love.

Exceeding of it all, there has never been a loveless moment in my life.

Even when the winter came and the darkness was the day.

Even when the screaming of men and the breaking of glass on my flesh

was the daily instrument of my waking.

Even when the witches and the wizards cursed me and my feet turned to ash.

Even when the scent of my flesh was burning carcass and i wounded.

Love set me free, love gave me wings, love gave me.

Love, love, love.

When one has love, one has life.

Nothing can take away my soul, i am immortal.

I have drank from the elixir of the goblet of life and found

the magic was never in the cistern, but in the flask of my soul.

in the face of god and his infinite loving existence.

Tear me apart, i will just have more of me to give.

Turn me into dust, i will just pick up and spread around me.

Pain is apart of my healing, suffering apart of my whimsical soul.

I do not fear my vulnerable existence, i only fear being worse than stone

plastic.

I am the river that continues to flow, even when it is dry, it waits to collect water.

Even when it bursts, it learns to settle.

I am the river and he is my constant.

None can break me but the one who saved me

and he does not break a soul

only pieces it together.

My beautiful artist

i am your forever changing work of art.

Your brush is always working at me

and i twirl and mold myself into whatever you wish to make me. 

And you have always turned me into different

shades

of 

love.

[writtenfrommybody]

I will love you when your cup is full, or half full, or empty and when you are empty i will fill you up. I will ensure that you are always quenched, and never parched.

[writtenfrommybody]

Most adults do not remember the magic that emanated from them as children.

But I feel that I have grown in age, but have stayed child like in my wonder.

I am a believer that the moon looks at me like a guardian angel and that the trees

Hold the secrets of the ancestors of the earth.

I am convinced that the animals can hear my heartbeat, I am convinced when they touch me

It is because they know I need mending.

I am convinced that the stars sing acappellas in clusters and each note is written for me.

I am convinced that the wind is actually the universe shaking me.

I wish I could show the universe how I saw it, I am made of earth.

We are all made of soil, but I have never felt detached from it.

My hands are link branches and my veins like roots.

I am intoxicated by the breath of life, I get high off the smell of the ocean.

I wonder if this world knows when I walk it I am aching for it to ground me.

I fly but I do not have wings, I crash but I have never existed in flesh.

I feel life so intensely, I can not ignore a single thing.

I feel the atoms swimming within my skin and I feel how tight this flesh is when it encases my soul.

I never forget a hand I have held, I memories every crevice between its skin.

I never forget the lips I kissed, each breath still leaves a memorable taste in my mouth.

I never forget the tears I have caught, they are collected in jars and used to cleanse me.

I can not stress this enough, I feel everything.

Oh my little heart how you expand with existence

I wonder how my heart fits in my chest

How it has not broken my ribs

How it has not crushed my lungs

How it has not reached between my lips and ripped out my tongue.

How does my heart stay so silent in this body of mine?

I have an entire tribe of lions within this lump of flesh.

They roar oh how they roar.

I need to tame myself, but I can not.

I need to tame myself but I am made for the wild

I am the wild.

I can not be caged, I will just find a way

To cage that cage itself.

I am a free child I free woman I free human.

I am so much I am too much even for me.

I am always in and out of love

I am always in love

I am always love

I am always

I am

I

I

I

I

Who am i?

The little girl who is magic

The lusty woman who has a past that is tragic.

I wonder how I will stop wondering

I want nothing more right now than to make love

Under the watching moon

The singing stars

The wise trees

The shaking wind

And to cum before them all

Until they look away

And I have some privacy.

I want to  fuck so hard and so long that the earth cloaks the sky and  send all the elements home.

I want to be the observer

I want to be the one who sings out each moan like it is holy

I want to shake so violently in the hands of my lover that my lover mistakes my climax for an earthquake

I want to whisper the secrets of the earth into their flesh

Until they release their sap

Down my throat

Like honey.

My eyes are a storm and the autumn leaves falling

And the summer heat sweltering

And the blooming of the roses.

I am all the season in a heartbeat.

I cant tell you how my mouth waters

Thinking about the taste

Your saliva

Running down my throat.

But I must end this poem

I must put an end to my passion

I could write all night about love

About making love

About breaking from love

About becoming love

About walking away from love

About giving up on love

On love I could talk all night

I need to stop cant you see how I slowly break

As the night progresses.

There is no refugee for me

Other than god

And he is watching

And he is the love

I need to hold on to.

Right?

[writtenfrommybody]

My heart was molded in such a way that it will constantly break, yet stay intact.

[writtenfrommybody]

Let me be, let no harm come to me.

Loving you is sin and a I am trying to be holy.

[writtenfrommybody]

I want to crawl into my bed and revisit your lips on mine, and replay it over and over again until you appear before me in flesh and not in my dreams.

[writtenfrommybody]

Have you ever had to swallow the love you have for someone, whole. Not chew it and savor it, but let it tear at your throat choking you. Have you ever had to completely switch off the melting pot of honey in your eyes seeing them? Have you ever had to stop your hands from touching them and your lips from kissing them? Have you ever heard of two soul mates meeting, but love not being enough.

[writtenfrommybody]

tasting heaven in the glass of a demon

This heart of mine is made from the temporary ashes of all the lovers I have had to burn and leave behind. My heart is made up of all the lifeless kisses that were so fleeting in time and endless in memory. I want so desperately for someone to see me, to know me, to touch and love me.

When I saw the one who saw me, my eyes became like darkness and light amalgamating into a chaotic luminousness of utter destructive tranquility. I swear to you his lips tasted like a hellish heaven and a paradisiacal eternal inferno. I swear to you his salty musky sweat on my tongue was sweeter than nectar found at the end of figs. I swear to you his hands were more dangerously delicate than the fragile and fluttering wings of a venomous butterfly.

When we held on to each other I did not know if I was more desperate for him or he more famished for me. We held on to each other like the world was ending and we are born again. I sat there whimpering like a toddler and a lioness. I clung to him like he was the thorny rope of god and my only salvation and my rescue.

Our passionate tongues like silk and sand paper dancing to the same song, He was the beastly beauty and I the beautiful beast, he the leader of all and not a soul to lead and I was his willing servant at his feet ready to be ransom for him.

I whisper desperately carless, what am I to you? He beats himself and says my rib. I tell him we are soulmates and he says we are mating souls. I just don’t know how I can let go of you twice, the first time almost killed me with the sheer life of it. This time I will have to inject myself with lithium and the breath of god so I can survive it.

I crawled into the cocoon of my mother when you walked the first time, I did not think you could see me tangled like a wired cord. Just when I thought my entire immortal soul would leave my flesh I felt your hands on my ribs and I whispered is that you Adam and you crawled into my arms and said my wretched eve. And we kissed like it was our first time of endless passion, we kissed like it was the last time of mortal distraction. We kissed in harmony and sync, god blew once when he moulded you and I we are one naked breath.

I touch my neck and feel you choking me like the Daddy I always dreamed of and you bring me to you and slap me like you are reality itself and we kiss like mad men in the sanist of moments. Then you come and I swear I did not know if it was daises or your sweet lips so tenderly and lovingly all over my roughened calloused skin. I rocked your hands in mine and held them to my chest like they were the limbs of a baby I thought had died but I opened its eyes and the complete miraculous of it all leaves you empty.

You crushing my cranberry nipples between your fingers and I releasing my juice all down my thighs was like the first moment you ever feel a rush. I look at you and say you’re so vulnerable and you tell me, no it is you who is vulnerable. And then you kiss me and kiss me and kiss me. I never thought I would finally kiss you, it was a dream I cut the power off and that is only because the dreams were petty near your hot tongue.

You look at me with your deep night sky eyes and you say you have the smile on an angel but the eyes of a devil, you look like a huntress and the pray. I tell him I am both and none of it at all, he says which one wins? I whisper that it does not matter. Your hands are the iron that protects me and the iron that beats me to the ground.

I don’t know if I can tell you no ever again, I don’t know if ill ever recover from this one time kiss that will linger and loiter until I fall into the abyss. I don’t know if I could last another second without touching you yet an entire life time. You tell me do not kiss me just whisper against my lips and I kiss you in whispers because I can not do anything but taste you when I am with you. You say pull my hair and I cant do it because my fingers are butter when they touch you. I want to be your sacrificial lamb, I want to raise my neck to you and fuck you while you slit at me mercifully. I want to be your little kitten purring on your eyelids and moaning on your sheets. I want to be everything for you, I want to be for you, I want to, I.. too… Want… You.

When will I see you, never

Again.

[writtenfrommybody]

I try to not think about your breath, one i do i can no longer feel my own.

[writtenfrommybody]

To the love that was felt, but never had the opportunity to unfold, i still grieve over you.

[writtenfrommybody]

There are no stages to grief

There is this sadness in me, that creeps up on me like death creeps up on the youth that feel too young to die, forgetful that their death lurks in the shadows. This sadness is an abyss that I have put a long sheet of fake moss around and a garden with roses that have no thorns, when I forget that it is all plastic and walk towards it I fall. There is this long lost bridge in my mind between the past and the present, with a gate that blocks my future and I feel like it is a vault that is shut and I can never open it. I am so full of this heart-wrenching grief and there are no stages to it, it is just endless. There is this crumbling pain in my gaping heart and it is like I was born with a hole in it that never seals, blood spurts out and spills onto my stomach where my intuition has been scarred and the tissue is revoltingly fleshy gutted pink. There is this blinding horror in my soul and I wonder if God breathed into me too much, or held his divine breath and skipped my vessel and left me in this mouth wide open silent screaming mess. There is this raging manic senseless demon that lies between the layers of my skin and I can feel it boiling me like I am a cauldron and it is creating a recipe for disaster and I wonder when it is done how I will reverse the spell of my anger and if I will ever be able to cool down once I burn wild. There is this perplexing vividness in my memory, and it feels like every moment I have ever lived is not flashing before my eyes, but playing in slow motion. I swear to you If you asked me what I ate for breakfast I would not have a clue, but if you told me what was the first kiss with a fist like I will break down each component of my meal of malice like I am a food scientist. Nothing is like that mild sorrow, I wish it was hot. Maybe my tears would scald my cheeks and make me feel slightly human. Instead, it is this after taste in my mouth, it takes a few swallows to recognise that it is there and once I do even if I wash my mouth out with gasoline it will still be itching in the back of my throat. The last of the lot is the loneliness, it accompanies me everywhere and holds my hand so tight I can feel my fingers break one by one. As I whimper at its debilitating grip it kisses my lips and sucks all the peace inside of me and it is like I have made out with a dementor and there is no turning back. Despite this I feel the warmest love envelop me, I can’t help it I promise even when I break I'm thinking about how sweet it is to be touched. I can’t ever love a little less, there is only more of it inside of me… This is what I feel the most. My sadness Is love, my pain Is love, my grief is love, my rage is love, my memory is love, my sorrow is love, my loneliness is love, my time is love. I swear to you I promise you I can not ever see beyond this love in me. So long as I am intoxicated by this wonderous love no sadness can take me, perhaps it could shake me and beat me it may even crush me into a million pieces. Those pieces will be scattered on the floor, crushed under boots and left until they look like stardust and soak the soil of my life until I grow into a grapevine and I am wine at the lips of a lover and I will come full circle again, being dismantled but never owned. I choose this dignified agony over the sweet ease that will strip me of my honour. I find no fear in being wounded, leave me open and gaping I will call the wolves with my tongue and howl and watch them eat from my flesh and I will break my rib and feed it to them like I am adam himself and I will not shut my eyes nor will I plead! I will watch with eyes wide open as they tear into me! I will embrace my crime scene of a life and I will always ALWAYS live in love! Even if it is constantly fleeting. Consistent fleeting love means I get to trip over my feet and have an entire farm of butterflies that were made by lovers I could never touch nor meet! God look at me in all my forsaken glory! You are everything I have and everything I do not deserve! But it is only you who will ever hold me. And this Is why I am so warm, even if I live in the middle of the ice. I am never frozen cold. I do burn through, I burn ferociously! That is why in heaven I want a bonfire I can dance under! You could not take my flame because you are the one who put candlelight in my chest! You are the one who made me so sparky! Tick tock tick tock my brain it works and gears and is wired like an electric fence! Yet I do not kill the hands who touch me! I do not kill the people who have slaughtered my spirit! I put myself on a spit and I tell them, I hope you are satiated at the taste of my resilient flesh! I can never be tamed I wish I could but I cannot. I find myself feeling contentment at my savageness, I am hunter hungry yet monk mellow. Paradoxical being I am, yet incredibly simplistic. I am all the shades of grey and I make each shade look like it is a daring magenta. Put the mountain on my shoulders, I will let a village of people live alongside my backbone and I promise you it may bend and break, but I will never be swayed nor broken.

[writtenfrommybody]

There is only this exhaustion that settles in my bones. Sleep only makes it worse and waking makes it beastly.

Ijust want to be free.