i know a boy
who feels his skin most alive
when his hands are wrapped around his folded legs
against his chest
as he softly rocks himself to an invisible beat
that he wishes will cure his piercing anxiety
and thoughts that no one should have to endure.
all he can see are his knees
destroyed by asphalt roads,
decorated in lines that make a maze
that he could get lost in for eternities.
because no matter how endless that labyrinth becomes,
he will always choose that
over even one quick glance at the world around.
all he will ever know
is the water trickling down to his waist,
as he tries to validate his tears
by making himself appear a lonely child again,
cooped up in how own sorrow
that he knows to be meaningless,
but no one can truly know the cause of a baby’s cries,
so he deems his own silence all right.
the world shouts at him to get up,
but they cannot compete with the screams within his mind
that traverse galaxies despite being hollow.
he says he dreams of remaining in fetal position forever,
and as the days pass by,
his hands are still glued together
and his whispers are so nearly inaudible,
i have begun to think he just may get his one true wish.
sometimes goosebumps seem to be my only friends
because they alone perfectly know my skin,
the folds and elevations and scars
that are so close to my heart
that they know to multiply to fill up the void within me.
but only razors have managed
to reach the undersides of my skin,
and they feel the sting of my soul
better than anything else that’s merely grazed the surface.
they say those closest to you are bound to destroy you.
i guess sometimes,
if my only reasons to not hurt myself
are wanting to avoid
seeing the sorrow in your eyes
and feeling the disappointment in your words
and knowing the worry in your heart,
i will challenge all the sadism in my mind
and hope that one day i will slay it,
and i’ll continue fighting until that happens.
because seeing you smile is worth
every ounce of sweat and every tear
this battle makes me shed.
you deserve to be at peace,
and one day,
i hope i will be too.
Walking on Coal - n.f.
Lately you’ve been saying that you’re proud of me,
that I’ll make it through this and I’ll stay strong.
And I guess the joy you sparked within me lit up too quickly
so the fire burned your words to a crisp,
destroying its own inventor.
When my smile has been stripped,
you find a way of becoming the King of Curves,
taking the edges of my lips as your first subjects.
But gravity always ends up winning and bringing me down in the end.
I have fallen again,
taken every step back
when I thought I was just about to pass some kind of finish line.
I have found sick comfort in crimson
even though a field of green was right in front of my face.
Trembling and fear have disguised themselves
as my sanctuaries
but I know they are nothing but jail cells.
But for one more night my rational did not exist
and my mind was swarmed with desire
that didn’t have a song of its own.
How do you silent already muted voices?
The invisible impulse to act,
with hollow words that carry the force of armies.
They have become nothing but enigmas but god,
what little fuckers they can be.
I guess I’m nothing but a masochist,
I have been destroying my brain
for destroying my body
because I cannot stand to picture your face
when I tell you I fucked up
even though I promised I wouldn’t.
And I swear,
my love for you supersedes that of a newly dashed thigh
but I can’t figure out why I can’t have you both.
My tears of regret pour out
but still, I find myself craving a return.
I want the idea of cutting to terrify me into paralysis
but I see it with angels’ wings
and I don’t know how to rip them off.
I want to know how to tear them off.
But my dear,
it is not your fault for not finding out how.
I don’t know what causes all of this,
but I promise you have never been my storm cloud,
and I need to discover this on my own.
Some days I think I never will,
but pessimism and lies will get me nowhere,
so I share with you this:
I have failed once but that doesn’t mean
I’m destined for defeat.
I will need some hands to help me up
but unless I teach my feet
that walking on hot coal
is an idiotic risk,
I’ll be burning my feet forever.
The coldness of concrete will first seem like torture
and I will miss the sting of heat
and thirst for it
and cry over it like I have done for months,
but eventually I will move on.
I cannot promise that I will be my own hero today,
but I’m getting there,
and all I can wish for is your patience
as I learn to pave this asphalt road
and your love
when I finally make it there.
it has been so long since these sad eyes defined me
but who can expect to look at the sun for so long
and not begin to squint and turn away.
the darkness has called my name
and i refuse to keep my loves waiting.
"it has been 13 days and i already miss it" (11-9-13)
you say some shattered bones
and damaged limbs
make the air i live in dangerous,
as if those were to be broken beyond repair.
but you don’t know that
without the specks of sawdust
and waves of laughter
i inhale each day,
i would no longer be here to protest this.
do not destroy my safe haven
over something fixable;
see the magic it has
in preventing a tragedy more eternal.
let me have my life and i swear,
one day these infested lungs will thank you.