As I Let Nature Reclaim Me I Slowly But Surely Delete My Ties To Slavery Swiping

I am made of flesh I am made of bone

most of which is my very own

I am made of muscle I am made of skin

the likes of which resembles my kin

I am made of stardust I am made of rain

I carry with me my mothers pain

I am made of laughter I am made of sorrow

I am someones dream of a better tomorrow

The anger was just boiling up. I didn't know what to do with the excess water. It was overflowing the styrofoam cup and I needed to put it somewhere. I needed to throw something. I had to punch someone so hard it hurt me more than it ever hurt them. I grabbed my scalding cup and poured. A whispering drizzle ran down the hill side drilling into the dirt digging at the rocks breaking the dam of soil to bring forth a rushing river. Hurt yourself. I pounded my fist into my thigh. Hurt yourself. I scratched at my arm nails on a chalkboard. Hurt yourself. I didn't stop when I started bleeding. Hurt yourself. My skin was stuck under my nails. Hurt yourself. I was drowning head down in the deep waters so hot it was icy cold to the touch. Hurt yourself. I liked it. That hurt the most.

You know when you wake up and your body hasn’t yet adjusted to the new day – and your mind is still congested and confused? Well, you can awake in that mode, and suddenly have a great fear for the future. Yesterday it was about money. And wondering what to do about getting some proper work later in life. You’re fine for money, at the moment. But, will you ever figure out a way to earn a decent amount? It’s okay right now – but that won’t last forever. And at the same time, you’ve just come out of sleep and you really need a pee. So you head along to the toilet, feeling monstrous. And you sit on the toilet and piss, and look in the mirror next to you: and you look like total crap. Heavy eyelids, grey hair, rough beard. You used to be semi comfortable with your looks, but, not so much these days. So you get up and head back to your bedroom and get into the bed again. Knowing that you won’t be able to sleep again. Because when your brain turns on in the morning, you can never switch it off again quickly. But what you can do is go back to that childish comfort of the warm bed. Just to stay there for a while. In the warmth of your covers. Especially with the one degree temperature beyond the window. Just reside in the heat for twenty minutes or so, so that you can regain a little physical power. After that, you can get up and put the clothes on and start the day for proper. And try and not be so afraid any more. Even if that’s often impossible to do.

how do i tell her i made it?

all those nights dreaming of what waking up might feel like. all those mornings still stuck in a dream.

how do i tell her that every week day i wake up at six to greet the blue haze outside my window while i dance to the radio station and put on way too much highlighter?

all those hours longing for satisfaction. all those minutes longing for routine.

how do i tell her my days are full of a life which i live?

all those poems praying for my flame. all those prayers poeticizing the mundane.

There was nothing resolute you could do about sadness, you were finding. You simply had to embrace the forlorn notions, and live out across the day, finding concentration in the other things you loved. Whilst realising that that thing you once loved was never coming back.

I dance around my room on halloween at five in the morning, so I can wear my costume to school, and I listen to three cheers for sweet revenge by the alternative band my chemical romance on cd.

I have been looking for that cd for almost a year now I just got it over the weekend

I have had you for almost five years now I don't know why I'm still looking for you

If I were your girlfriend I'd be the summer to your tom

i wanted to be my firsts first and now ive lost the purity in me to something dirty and it makes me feel sick. i have nothing to repent for yet i have a need to fall to my knees and beg for something.

All Girls are Angels in Their Dreams.

writing: Everyone is watching and looking and judging. I'm just meat to be consumed by others, I'm for others. And I should be grateful, oh please eat me and spit out what you hate. Pretty please sink your teeth into my flesh, eat me. Don't worry about the pain, I should he grateful. I am. I am. Don't yell. Use my flesh to silence your anger, your pain. Please. Oh do I hate this dream.

If I am to become another berry picked too ripe so I can be sold to the masses I will use the cut I was given so you can rot away in the warm sun on the vines. I won't let you, my daughter, be eaten by the people even if you must eat me alive in exchange.

snippet of Dear Daughter I Never Wanted