menutup mata

there are moments like these when
a passerby shows her magic tricks
but she sees right through it
moments like these when
she wraps herself up and
closes in away from the world

she can see her future burning
and she's run out of extinguishers.

she sings now without emotions
because there are certain songs
that hold too much of

it is a sickening gutfeeling when
you realize there was almost a pinch of something real
and you almost feel
what you've never felt in a while
and you remember
what it was like
to have feelings

but feelings never last, because
you're too scared to accept them

there are moments like these when
big words numb her
and she sits on a windowsill
counting the stars
on the tip of her fingers

she closes her eyes
and wishes for eternity

close your eyes.


unwashed cups loose paper
a cigarette box
the fight club dvd
out of the box
wet hoodies battery chargers
tangled wires
a fan
the overused black and white bag
crumpled towels
slung on the bedpost
pages torn my favourite french deodorant
drops of idon'tknowwhat on
floor tiles laura dockrill is a good writer
stuffed toys piled like
dead bodies
peace-of-mind tablets i do not take
6 different pair of shades
a messy closet full of
messy clothes a handphone face down
alarm clock's set to 9am but i don't
think i will need it pink curtains
pink ribbon - what is it doing there?
the telephone on the chair
note to self: don't sit on it
posters of unfamiliar faces
i don't know what to do
unfinished coursework
unfinished thoughts

i might as well stop.


i never lived with walls
for i never believed in
harm nor knew things that could
break them down

until i met you

fear would slip out of my fingertips
unable to stick with someone
like me
for i had no business with fright until
the first sharp pain i felt in my gut and
that sticky burn in my throat
that tasted like rust
the day you first
choked up my veins with words that killed me
and did things that blinded others but
revealed ugliness to me.

'a year ago
i would never have imagined you like this'
they say

and i agree
because 275 days ago
i was life in a candle-flame
on a calm night
swaying and

i am still life in a candle-flame
but i have tasted the risk of
being blown out.

i never lived with walls but
now i live with 275 of them;
it isn't just a fucking ugly coincidence
that it was a saturday, a 17th
two days ago.

i have lived the past few billion hours
trying to manoeuvre the right way
wondering why smoke leave no shadows
wondering why sleep is such
a difficult concept
wondering if anything can make it better
things do make it better
until the next dip
and i cannot cling onto the changes

they told me to let it go
that i am strong
and i tell myself to
fucking forget all of it, already
but i am not strong enough.

it's been long established that
it is easier said than done

because it has finally revealed to me
that despite how hard i have tried
building walls and
distracting myself
there are still things like
one text message on the top floor of McDonald's and
seeing a friend of his outside Starbucks
giving me dirty looks
that affect me
and puncture me with bulletholes of feelings that i thought
i would never feel again

it is a disappointing stab in the stomach
when you have spent the past few months
trying to forget his number
and the pain the torture
gulp down the lies
the accusations
and one memory decides to revisit
any point of any day
and everything comes gushing back at you
crushing down your walls and
drowning any speck of happiness you
managed to recollect
the 017s and
254s and
fucking 1842s.

and i want to kill my mind because
it is killing me.

no, i don't fucking love him anymore
it is his inflictions that i live with daily
i do not miss them
i want them to go
to go
leave me

i had managed to stop myself crying
unable to digest that
the last time i cried was because of

it isn't a fucking ugly coincidence that it was
a saturday, a 17th
two days ago
and i cried again
because of him.

birthday thoughts

Dancing in the sky
I find beauty in things that
with time
Blinding my eyes
And I feel free like seconds
and Ants on my skin
I find beauty in things that
don't exist
Like happiness and memories I
try to keep
I waste my time trying to find more
Realizing too late that there's
none to save
I am still locked in, locked
out of home
Maybe things will get better,
maybe I won't

drawing smiles

there, a girl sits
with a pen in her left arm because she tries
to feel different
she has smiley faces on her arm
well, she draws herself smiles and
pretends she is happy

she covers her head with her hands
and tries to see the world when
her eyes are shut
but she still sees a knotted blur
of what she used to
know by heart

there, a girl sits
and writes poetry
singing songs she used to love but
feels nothing towards them, really
she looks at the smiley faces
and tries an attempt
knowing she's been trying to hard
to draw smiles on her face
to pretend she's happy

i don't like eating

i hate the way my tears dirty my face
and they feel horrid on the tip of my lips
but at least it was anger
not a cause of my depressive state.

i was locked in my heart's cage,
screaming for death, his hands around
my neck and i'm screaming
"kill me" -

why the fuck am i still here?

i like the idea of dying and
smiling at the pain, laughing because
the pain is the only thing that
remains real.

His slap tasted good and felt like

I save sundays to starve myself and I want to
twist, i want to coil up and split
open my intestines and

page breaks

there are fullstops in life
and i stand on a ground of
hopes and dreams that are meant
to come true
and it's crumbling beneath me
like broken ice and
psychological landslides.

i used to stand on tiptoes -
but where is my balance
where is my strength?

i fall upon cushions of rocks and
sharp knives and i feel safe
torn and tattered
i feel secure under
broken roofs
because i know now
that i can go no further
than pitbottom and
life won't hurt me
as much as it once did.

i drop
i am free.