Drowning In A Sea Of Indifference.

On the bottom looking up.
Reflection. Refraction.

Water sinking in.
Breathing in the lack of oxygen.

The over use of metaphors that aren't methaphors at all.

The sand fixes itself between the spaces in my teeth.
Choke.

Cough the particles up into a painting of shame.
Silent. Clean. Free.

Freedom comes in chains of guilt.

Feed me your love in spoonfuls.

Gorge me with your need. My need. Our need.

I want to take the air you breathe and secure it in a jar.

My jar.

Answers to Nothing, for Everyone.

There is a mess of sin yew pushing from under this membrane.
Veins. Feelings.
It's a game beneath my skin they say. We want a race! The first to the top wins salvation!!
Ignoring them proves useless.
Complete. Unsatisfied.

I've grown out of myself. No longer fitting inside.
Craving. Desiring.
The closer I get to nothing, the more of everything I receive.
It's a well restricted chaos. Nothing of what it is and everything of the same thing.

I'm building up for something great. Shhh.
Creating an end. Constructing an exit.
Exiting the construction site. Ending the creation.

Mirrors reflecting mirrors.
Images of images.
Scenes of scenes.

Mock Life.
Mock Peace.
Mock Mock.

It's the unit circle at 0 and 360 degrees. Meeting.
Complication. Implication.

The secret is that for completion there must be destruction.
For the perfect life, all life must stop.

The end is defined by the end.
Stop thinking.

Quite a Sinking.

My skin died a few weeks ago.
I tried reviving. Cuts and burns don't touch me.
More proof that I'm no longer real.
Fading into my own mind. Escape. Comfort.

Catatonic.

She doesn't know she's killing me.
Words I've repeated over and over till my throat is sore.
I think she knows I don't exist.
White shadow. Brilliant. Blinding.

I'm over dramatic and paranoid. Destructive. Constructive.

What I want is sleep. Deep and dreamless.
Under a puddle. Shallow sinking.
My head has been held up by the ends.
Pulling.

Rip apart into myself. My real self.
Who she is...well she isn't yet.
I'm creating her by destroying the unreal person.
She who squeezes into my skin each morning.
Leaving me awake and shivering when I try to sleep.

My Darling Muffin, You're Rotting In His Mouth.

I've been sewing and sewing.
My fingers pricked to strips of skin.

She tore me open. Ripped me.
Lullabies. Love. Lies.

I'm out of thread.
All the spools couldn't hold enough.

There Never Was A Once Upon A Time

The problem with birthdays is that we expect everything to change.
We think that overnight our faerie godmothers will come and sprinkle dusk over us.
Thinking that when we wake we will be the little princesses finding amazing meals and silken gowns.
Our expectations are set so high that we believe people and situations will differ from the norm.

The reality is this:
When we wake nothing has changed.
Because there is no faerie godmother. There is no glorious feasts or magnificent gifts.
The poverty that once was still is. The angry people are still angry.
Hearts are still broken. Feelings are still ignored.

There is no ball.

For me there is only one thing that's for sure.
Instead of midnight ending it all and changing everything back to the way it was..
Midnight only ends it. Nothing changed in the first place.
I was never a princess.

Something is still wrong with me.

Silence Is Golden But Gagging Is Messy

Swollen cheeks and a blistered mouth keep ruining my mask.
I've held back for days but I feel weaker. Disgusting.

Paint me a new mask. Something beautiful and clean.
I want to swim in porcelain. Colour me pink with wild eyes.

I haven't slept for years and I dream everyday.
Ears filled with bloody songs and lips like sand.

I once read about a girl who would say "Once when I was a real girl..."
Now I know what she means. Reality is a fleshy memory that swings on wires.

My existence is tiresome and an enigma of twine.
A tangled mess I don't want to unravel.

Carousel

The carousel is spinning.
No sign of stopping.
It's never ending ups and downs.

Hold on tight.

She brings me up.
Flying.
I'm starting to feel again.
The blood starts flowing.
Existence is kissing my fingers.

The hunger still gets to me.
Growling. Crying.
Feed. Purge.
That moment when my painted steed goes down.
Hold on tight.