the blight.

My brain matter is sticky and
entangled are a hundred different people,
millions of fractured thoughts,
the sludge of wonderings I don’t need,
anxieties I shouldn’t have,
it’s all stuck with me and I’m peeling apart my scalp
because maybe if I could reach it, I could get better but
brain matter is all over my fingers, spreading,
trying to cocoon me alive
and I’m crying tears of frustration and fear
because I don’t think this will ever leave me alone,
and I so desperately want it to leave me alone
because I’m sick of reaching out for a better life
only to be brutally yanked back so that it
forever lies just beyond my reach,
tempting and taunting me
so when you asked me why I can’t just make it stop,
why I can’t just stop thinking about it-
as if it’s that simple-
why I can’t let it go and why on earth
I can’t just get over it all
please believe me when I say I’ve tried.
____you asked me to try harder and I had no answer.


the world has always been
shrouded in darkness, the galaxies
are entire masses of empty voids and
universes ravaged by black holes that
consume the impossible and threaten to
rip apart the very cosmos and
are the clashing of fires that burn so hot
they freeze and the scattering of
stardust and exploding galaxies;
yet you wonder at this
consuming intensity in your soul?

of growing distances.

I’m doing what’s best for me but
what’s best for me is toxic for you;
I guess what’s best for me isn’t really the
best for you,
but won’t you ever wonder
why you’re no longer the best for me anymore?
I changed,
but that’s what people do,
why didn’t you call it growth and
most importantly why didn’t you
grow with me?
-I guess the only option left was growing apart.

a promise kept.

was always falling apart, you
just never saw how the effort of
keeping myself together tore me apart
and I
painstakingly stitch myself together
because you don’t deserve the
pain I carry cradled next to my chest
but I
walk around with veins running on empty
because 365 days of simply breathing
will never equate to living;
you made me promise
I’d keep breathing and so
I did;
you never asked me to stay
alive, and so
I didn’t.

Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

Yesterday they took me backto the hospital and I thought of you
(I always do you know) 
I can’t tell you why I was there but I think it was something to do with you
or maybe that’s just me
and I’ve always been biased;
today they asked me why I am the
way I am and
I lied. 
I told them 
did this to me
and they tell me it’s like
cancer, it’s no ones fault and I
have to start living, 
but they’re wrong because
it’s not the same, 
there’s no day the pain ends 
and I’m pretty sure I
invited destruction inside me
because I loved how he played
with my demons but then he
they don’t know I laugh in the
face of adversity because nothing’s
ever made me feel alive and I
keep searching for something
that will, they’ll never know how 
hard I try, even if I chase 
all the things that are bad for me 
and they’ll never understand 
what it feels like to be so 
you’ll take anything you can get just to feel real again,
and they’re wrong because
it’s my fault 
and they’ll never know, 
it’s my hidden secret and 
I hope it can lure the Devil to come
play with me again

I talked to the devil yesterday:

My soul is under mortgage I think.
‘What makes you think I’d take yours when there’s so many prospective souls in this world?’ He scoffed.
I should have been happy. Instead I mulled over it.
What’s wrong with mine? I asked him, annoyed.
He sized me up.
‘Too much baggage.’
That’s all your fault.
He quirks an eyebrow at me.
‘Oh right blame the devil, what’s it with your species? I have better things to do with my time than waste it on your insignificant existence.’ He turns away once again.
I’m surprisingly stung. And I’m sure he can tell. He chuckles.
Offended, I turn away to stare away at the horizon of red and orange. I have no idea where we are this time.
We sit in silence for some time but I know it won’t be for long. It’s not very day he gets someone to talk to.
‘I suppose that does beg the question, if it isn’t me, who is it?’ I sneak a glance at him but I needn’t have bothered. He’s somewhere far away in his thoughts, eyes fixed in the distance. ‘Personally I’d say you humans are fickle creatures. There’s so much evil inside you and yet you all fight it on a daily basis. Some go out of their way to do it. I fail to understand. Why do you do it?’ He turns towards me but his eyes are unfocused.
‘What’s the use?’
I say nothing.
‘That’s why I was against your existence. Don’t get me wrong, this-‘ he gives me a faint smile, gesturing between us, ‘is very enlightening and all.’ Troubled eyes now search mine, ‘But the sheer insistence that you’re light and pure when your track record says otherwise, when both you and I know you’re all just fooling yourselves everyday? When everyone knows it’s an effort to keep the balance tipping towards chaos. It baffles me.’

He sighs.
‘Maybe the reason I fell is my pessimism. Maybe all I needed was the belief in the goodness.’
And for a moment I see wistfulness flit in and out of his face before its replaced by determined seriousness.
‘But I can’t lie to myself.’
I don’t really think my answer matters so I stay silent, instead thinking about what he’s said.
We don’t look away as we each ponder our thoughts. I realize this is the first time I can really see his eyes without their red glow and for the first time I can clearly see the detachment there, as if he’s seen all of this and it’s no longer worth his time. I stare and centuries of wisdom stare back at me.
Maybe it wasn’t your fault, maybe it was how it had to be for the universe to keep from stagnation. What if it was more Fate than anything else?
I hear the words, then come to the startling realizing it was me who spoke them.
He gives me a sad smile. As if I’m just arriving at a conclusion he’s thought about for far too long. And there’s grief in his voice as he replies.
‘But then what about the love?’ He hesitates. ‘I sometimes wonder if I made a mistake even when I know that there’s no regret where I’m concerned in terms of how it all went down. I just wonder how it was so easy to guillotine me. And the world went on, everything fell into place. Except me. And for the life of me I can’t decide who to blame: myself or the Fates. But I hate myself for wondering wether or not I’m even to blame; if this is just how it was supposed to be.’
And I notice what he doesn’t say. That theres still someone he can’t ever blame and I understand that all too well.
And I wonder if what he did was, for him, his own version of love.
So I just brush off the grass as I stand up and offer him my hand. He looks at it quizzically.
I think
, I say carefully, sometimes, things go wrong. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe it was Fate. But I think we all get a say in where we are.
But mostly
, I sigh as I rake a hand through my hair, Mostly, I think it matters where you go from where you are.
And I for one, am not that ready to go to heaven after being struck by an errant lightning bolt.

He bursts out into surprised laughter but gives me his hand and I heave him up.
‘That really says something doesn’t it?’ He says as we navigate our way downhill.
I pretend not to have heard him, but I can’t help the wonder as I glance heavenwards for the tiniest second.

Of Humanity.

I stopped shedding glitter when I
learned the concept of humanity
and how deeply I feel it;
Instead I drip the blood of the fallen,
the tears of the broken hearted,
and sometimes the waves of emotion
project for miles around me
threatening to tide me over,
and any glitter I may have had in my
heart is wrenched out from the
deepest recesses in my body.
So no, I don’t leave fairy dust
in my wake anymore;
Instead you can trace my path
from the broken trail of
smudged words
and crumpled papers as I try
to give a meaning to it all

-I am a writer that tries.