nineteen days

cracked lips.

a faint flicker of shine

leaking through the webs of my mind.

littlethoughts.littledreams.little

blatant and tempting

like frivolous passion under clouded

stars and puntured moons

where there is no space for me

to breath.

curved in.

warm and safe

a body, an artwork

eyes of daylight and

lips of a religion i conjured from my

heart.

they are strange words

but familiar to a dream long forgotten

a beautiful dejavu.

cracked in.

curved lips.

whisper.

3 lines

I try to say things

but it is difficult when you are

colliding with emotions that confuse.

a dream that loved me

the waking dream that found the glitter

in my eyes and kissed the tangles of

alcohol staining the roots of my hair

the dream that planted a mark on my body

like a white flower in a garden of green.

fluttering above me like a halo

leaving tingles on my neck and

whispers on my ears, a hot breath that never fades

it was a dream that taught me passion

and grew on the tip of my lips

as it kissed me under the rain

and told me to stand for who i am.

fresh air;

an escape from the nightmares i lived,

a hand that found my sensitivity

and caressed my weakness, telling me

a biggest secret,

feeding me strength and leaving sweet

aftertastes in the center

of my body

warm and whole

a dream i will wake up from

and smile at the memories

when they revisit

every once in a while.

alone in a square box

my breathing is loud,

a condition one would relate to

anxietyangerinsanitypain.

i name it a condition because

it arrives unwanted

and i hate people i truly love;

uncalled for,

like accidents in the middle of the night.

i like to talk to myself, as if

i am

the rest of the world,

regretting my good intentions

that led to the loss

of control and fear

of tasting solitude

- though i spend many conscious nights

alone

because

alone

i sense myself

coming back to

life

.and the blindlights hitting me as i stand up too quickly

is beautiful.

there are those who make things better

yet they are them

that make things worse

all the same.

i forget the meaning

of letting myself feel

happy.

everything is around me

i feel heavy

standing by myself.

the first

raw skin underwater.

a pain that reflects

catharsis

momentary scrapes of hurt that

paints my picture

spells my life

until it fades.

escaping my fingertips,

it is a second of

letting strength escape me

and the past foil me

but i am done with facing

the same page of my

clustered, depressed thoughts.

i am ready to take one step away

from carnage

and leave the burn that once

scarred decay on me.

will you trace my steps

and lead me through

my holocaust?

will i drown?

i speak to nobody

and somebody replies.

flourescent

my first cold blink of bare truth

when everything fell into reality

took place in the air

where clouds beneath me

gave way

and sent me headfirst

towards gravity.

this is the part when

you lose your right to dream.

every wash of hard, icy life

drowned me in a pitfall of dull

colours that never seemed

to fade,

the hideous artwork of my mind.

i am like the sky

churning towards dark

swallowed in behind the grey

taints blanking out

the rainbows and

taste like afterlife.

the rain is singing

a beautiful pain i can understand.

one a day

it is only because

the whole world goes still

and i can hear my thoughts

slither into place and

feel at ease

just for a while,

watching my breath form

unspoken words

soaring into the sky

until the last of the ashes

explode on the surface of reality

and create heavy, uneasy sounds

of my mind

waking up.