Esoteric Distortions

I wonder who would come to my funeral; and throw dirt on a grave of someone they might have never known.

I wonder who would weep and exclaim that I deserved better.

But never had time to give they better they believed I needed.

I wonder who would visit; who would feel as empty in my absence as I have felt in their presence.

I wonder who would remember me after; a me that maybe I myself never fully met. And maybe never wanted to.

Life and death are a linear voyage.

I set my sails north, I drift to absolute.

I haven’t felt alive in a long time,

Strike me as many times as you want

I've got mud on my party dress But I attend anyway

Because I wear my stains from the inside out.

Everyone stares and I get called peculiar

Which is a nice way of saying I make them uncomfortable

Or they avoid eye contact and mask their sighs as yawns

But I'll stand there and smile while I chew the inside of my cheek

Because nobody has asked me to leave yet

Or told me I'm too much. My mother has always looked through me

Until I tracked dirt into the house And I was told I was no better than the disarray that followed me

The best my body ever looked was laying next to yours The smallest it had to shrink, and the emptiest it felt

Suddenly you aren’t nineteen anymore

And you aren’t dead like you begged to be

You don’t wake up disappointed by sunlight

And you wonder what the forecast will be

Suddenly drowning no longer sounds as euphoric

And a car crash seems unreasonably expensive

You have a favorite cup and movie plans next Wednesday

Suddenly you realize a dull ache still quivers inside you

But you don’t grapple with standing so close to ledges that it makes your friends nervous

Sometimes you still stare at tv static while watching reruns in your head

But you share your home with pain now, and offer to make him tea

So maybe you’ll linger a little longer,

and plan your birthday party

They say we're so developed for our age

Everything inside me is held together by tape

Adhesive is fickle and so is my sense of belonging

I apologize when my insides leak out of my eyes and down my cheeks

Because nobody likes a pretty girl that can't stay intact

My jaw hurts from filling comfortable silence with the noise of needing to be noticed

Once I am, I shrivel under spotlight

And continue to flail on stage

Because an once of observation could pay my rent for months

But nobody gets to see the price tag, or the tape peeling off

When I feel uninspired, I hang myself by my shoulders

Choke me.

Rip through skin and tell me that I've earned it.

Turn romance into a dirty secret that secretes mutual disfiguration.

A warm smile that asks to bare teeth to chew through innocence.

And when we're done

Entangled in fluid, regret, and each other

The Holy Trinity

Consensual emotional ruin

If you had to save yourself

When I lay in bed, I feel homesick But all that lies in front of me is endless pavements

Despite bleeding feet, I continue to walk..

Then crawl

Searching for permanence while objects around me morph into every almost

Rooted out of reach, mocking my outstretched hand

But, I'll continue endlessly seeking shelter that's familiar enough to feel like hope, but new enough not to remind me

Maybe if I stopped long enough to look beside me

I would see that these pavements are not linear

Every frayed string I've pulled has unraveled until I was nude well before anyone had asked me to undress

I think everything I do is with a slight touch of cyanide

Because I have an insatiable and innate wisdom on how to systematically poisen the fresh and alive

That stumble blindly into my life

I am rotted, under clothes and behind a temperate demeanor

And after we're done, you too will be untouchable

Because that is my perogative

And my mortal wound

To make you ache like me in a way that will make you understand,

Modesty Doesn't Save You,

Someone once said that I’m addicted to my own sorrow and suffering. 

Periodically I’ve sat with that thought,

And the notion (hopeful, childlike reckoning) that they could be wrong..

But probably aren’t

Because, for as long as I can remember, there has been comfort in the most familiar feeling I have always possessed..

The soft, syrupy awareness that drowns me in the understanding that:

despite whatever I do, the most solace I’ve ever felt is within the emptiness of complete abandonment and ridicule.