world records

there is a clamp in my head

tightening for what seemed like weeks

and will continue for remaining days

until i reach the second my heart and soul

turns one year old.

it feels like an egg cracking, these

unwanted, murky, irksome feelings

leaking through me

spilled and unable to fix

as the day edges closer

and closer

and closer

like reverse, a reverse effect back to

when i died and was reborn

as nothing; a blank paper, torn and crumpled.

one year ago.

-

feels like quite a while now,

many things i have forgotten beyond

that night

except the incidents that led me

to living this new, semi-unwanted life.

recycled.

i partially enjoy it

the new lengths i push myself through

measuring how hard my cover is

and the lowest temperature of my heart;

the many times i can look at my arm

without crumbling.

-

i took a huge risk allowing the wounds

to be wiped clean

knowing from then on,

they will never heal, dirty as ever,

and will never heal

and i could no longer live the way i did

because i woke up the next morning

with no recognition of life

and its definitions.

i started from scratch

without a purpose or a scrape of hope

screaming for some incomprehensible need;

no one understands the language

of a newborn.

one year ago.

-

i am breaking my own world record by:

:testing my limits.

:raging multiple wars within myself.

it was always a war between peace of mind and pain,

but fighting for peace never really works, even in the news.

:lastly, having two birthdays to celebrate.

one for my life and

one for the loss of it.