Rie Writing

how I use / how I let myself be used / and to find peace / in all the wrong ways / to seek risk / to want a pain / how it feels so wrong / in the right ways / how I collapse into nothing / how I let myself / sometimes I feel everything / and how the chaos stayed / but I grew / and how I cried / how you wept / how love didn't heal / and how you tried / but now / there is only now / I sedate myself for it / slowing down / swallowed in it / again / how I embrace hurt / with open arms / how I hate my being / with such ferocity / for the mistakes / how love isn't easy / but self destruction is / I stay hiding / from myself / I go in circles / never learn / refuse to take care / of this body / because I do not know how / and it is tiring / to climb up / and always fall lower / but how I fake it doesn't hurt / how I can make it not hurt / how those are my nights / intoxicated / and maybe tomorrow / I will face the world / how tomorrow might be better / how tomorrow might be worse / and how it doesn't matter either way / how I will be still / and possibly whole / one day

What would he think when he realises just how I live?

The week always ends

I'm begging, so crashing, soul cracking, just a child, moody girl    but high equals healed    temporarily perfectly perfect    the fire within me dies   God where are you? Where are you?      

I am lead, mercury, heavy, poisonous And you are the ocean I sink in

I ebb and flow Just like the water Gently, gliding I let the rocks and bumps pass I am learning to let go And let this current take me To where I need to be

This is for how you closed the gaps you fell between, the heavy discomfort of being, how you filled it with pills and powder, and buried pain, your hands aching from the work.

Try and focus on making yourself content. Break things down and look at them hard. Kick it up and let yourself use whatever energy you have left. Be gentle, cause hey, endings aren’t always bad. So look at things practically and act. Ask “what can I do now?”.

Together we are light. The smell after rain, the adrenaline with pain - screaming to exist together - as if we know nothing else. You are an orchestra of perfection and I am calloused fingers, a wanting mess of a person, conducting with my love. We are rhythm. We are miles and miles of beaches. We are dancers, lovers, sometimes angry souls. We are needing more than loving. We are harsh love, with warmth, longing. God you are so beautiful I could cry.

So thank your body for carrying you through the worst of times. For rocking you back and forth. For giving you arms to wrap yourself in.

Hey?

Misery, My Baby