Some kind of longing - Some past repression of belonging

If heaven opened or existed or attested my commitment to destructive behaviour
I might behave more
but discreetly I fantasise about my inability to commit
or adore
in totality
in purest form
I bask as though the ultimate fem
when reality assures me that I’m an assault on the painful self loathing nature I attend

I’ve never known serenity as much as I’ve known
howling under a desk,
waiting for recognition that my feelings which existed were allowed to exist
by the compromise of your own admittance

there was no face behind my eyes
I lit candles not to mourn or to enjoy but to continue to endure
with a softer vanilla scent than before
fatality or totality
I can’t believe I didn’t die
I longed for you
almost as heavily as I breathed
in those few seconds before a train hit the platform.

You bit into me
gentle nothing
don’t mask the handprints on my walls that came
as you leaned to tie your shoes when you threatened to leave
and I wondered if my sleeping body
was more like a corpse
or a coffin
not flowered
I don’t know if I ever flowered
draped in a different kind of sheet
one of both our flesh
and tendencies to exasperate ourselves with pleasure rather than thought
dying in your arms as I opened myself raw
this ode to a love I hated
combined with a dependency that forced me outside of myself

don’t shriek
don’t screech
don’t lie-
on me
beside me
or too me


my glowing skin residual
to my frame
a thousand chances to speak
instead I cried
became a baby at your feet
in your hands
as you gripped my waist I felt a lift between my bottom rib
and what I can only imagine to be my lungs
we slept continuously with the TV on
now I wake even more overcome
feeling something rather than feeling none
nice to know where you stand
when you constantly question if you’re alive or living
or how quickly trains move as they’re stopping

Don’t beg for me
flatter yourself
into thinking this is any kind of chase
I truly have abandoned taste

beckoning beauty
why don’t you recede
when you see my ignorance plainly
to be pretty but to be bleak
or to be full but to be meek
what a fucking waste

flowers and
what else
reproduce myself repeatedly
in the hope that with one swift peak
I might become entirely
what I’d hoped I’d be
I can’t breathe
I never could
but even less so with the pressure of 4 extra limbs
beside me
I could care more for those 10 toes than you care for me
but instead i’ll victimise myself
until hysterical doesn’t cut it
and melodrama doesn’t cut it
and I cut it
and you tell me to throw all my pain out the window
but I know it will lay there on the ground beneath my room waiting for me to beckon it back in
eyes blurred grabbing every sharp object in sight
to shine a sharp knife, reflecting white
light a lighthouse for my sadness
to my window it’ll rise

tiny unwed fantasies
don’t promise me an end
in small laughter
and friendship
when I can’t speak of death
like I speak in my head

I told a boy I couldn’t understand his will to die
but unconvinced
by my own lease on life
I question whether you forced this reality on me
or simply made me aware of it
was unhealthiness profound
before you made it known
aggravated the cut until it seeped
and I could no longer control the flow
of blood to my muscle
cells begin to die
revived by a harsh intake of sense
what if sensibility is the lie

dear warrior woman
I see your death as bright as I see your beauty
as fearlessness came in your life and not in the ending of it