NaPoWriMo2024 collecshun

{1/30} ~ 04/01/2024          
         
to you who keeps my skin in a mason jar ~          
         
grey skinned man          
with your baby bird bones          
sheltering          
a warzone          
in which you cannot win          
{i          
have known no peace}          
unarmed          
& late to the front ~          
… already invaded,          
halfway conquered          
before we began …          
we slept          
while it lay siege          
ever so silently          
digging a trench          
thru you          
from the bottom up          
as tho it intends          
to devour you          
whole          
& so i write this          
while you're          
slowly dying          
         
  //        
       
2/30        
       
on the day death came knocking ~ {i was drinking a venti mocha, dark roast, two pumps of caramel, three pumps of vanilla} //it tasted like ash//        
       
you said it        
around two        
on an ordinary        
afternoon        
so matter of fact        
explaining point a        
b, c, d        
omitted e        
what the f’        
ugh ~        
you had        
already        
died inside        
during the drive over,        
cold hands in mine        
asked me to        
turn up the heat        
when it was 40 outside…        
… i        
can't remember        
your face from before        
the moment you        
opened your mouth,        
but i        
recall the minutiae,        
soap suds        
& my cigarette        
burning down        
between wet fingers,        
the filter too wet        
to suck succour from        
       
//        
 3/30      
       
good morning, i am falling apart from holding everything together {&} would like to schedule time for the mental breakdown i deserve.  okaythankyoubye.          
       
i had        
no time to        
mourn        
the man      
who slept in glass        
beside me        
each night      
{&} if i        
had not sold the house        
before,        
i would have        
set it to flame        
the day after…        
… i couldn't sleep      
between        
the dove grey walls,      
changed the linen        
to      
duck egg blue;        
unable to      
wash sweat-memories        
from the cotton        
{such a        
small cleansing        
of a necrotic wound}      
the festering hidden        
in sweet bergamot,      
but i can        
see it there        
beneath the veneer        
       
//    
4/30    
     
it's 4am and i'm staring at my reflection, trying to write this while you sleep ~    
     
{iii}      
i don't want to      
confess    
how ephemeral      
my self-worth is,    
so threadbare      
you can see      
right down    
to    
my insecurity,    
the utter lack      
of dignity      
because there's      
no time      
like the present      
to be a fool      
for you      
     
{ii}      
somewhere,    
maybe in      
the bottom of      
my teacup,    
i may      
find the answer to      
what in gods name      
is wrong with me      
     
{i}      
one pet name      
was all it took      
& i became      
pathetic    
   
//    
5/30    
   
subnormal ~ {iii}    
   
you're static.    
stoic replies    
my awkward, post-mistake    
vagaries    
as tho we    
are strangers    
who    
shared the same    
fractured breath    
for a    
sickening moment    
{&} i    
want to scream    
at the me    
who existed    
just days ago,    
she who    
spent months    
trying to    
scrub your memory    
from her bones    
with salt    
and regret.    
she was    
innocent in all this    
   
//  
   
6/30  
   
this is not a love poem ~ {iii}    
   
wishing  
this was    
effective,    
the way    
coarse pink grounds    
pepper the earth    
in the wake    
of unwanted guests;  
tho i    
cannot salt    
away    
things that linger,  
intrusive whispers    
echoing    
indefinitely    
beneath my skin,  
indelible memories    
{&} small dreams  
confessed    
to the nothingness ~    
i    
want to    
inhale the space    
between us,    
swallow it    
whole    
pretend  
the divide    
doesn't exist    
tho    
it rends me    
in two    
//  
 
7/30  
 
if the state of my manicure was indicative of my mental health, i'd be on a grippy socks holiday ~  
 
saw her  
for a moment  
just a  
breathless second,  
she was wild  
& beautiful  
unashamed,  
flayed alive  
inside of me  
whilst a mouthful  
of  
heathen confessions  
writhed on my tongue:  
i  
couldn't keep her  
safe from myself  
{sweet scented harbinger  
of self-destruction}  
or the flames  
in my belly,  
a pyre on which i  
let him  
put us both to  
the torch ~  
his whims,  
a match  
struck within  
my darkness  
so our shadows  
might  
play on the walls  
 
//
 
8/30
 
i wanted to say something important but i then i started thinking of halsin's sweaty chest in grymforge ~
 
twixt the lines  
i  
read your palms,
scry scattered  
memories on your skin,
my cremains  
sooty smears,
a mistake in  
the greater scheme  
of  
things still left  
unsaid ~  
{&} i  
cannot wrest  
my spine from  
beneath  
your feet  
for long enough  
to stand up  
for myself …  
… folding  
when you snap  
your fingers,  
when you  
whisper  
sweet everything's  
into the  
lonely echoes  
within me  
 
//

10/30

on printing missing posters for my spine:

steeping
in the
peony belly,
a handful
of pink leaves
drift
leaching into
the steam ~
i
cannot scry
sense from the
warm flowering
before
roses wilt
& hibiscus
withers
& the water
offers no more answers
than
the mute tongue
with which i
stir
honeyed lies
into my lungs….
… comfort
is sweet but
fleeting
evaporating
from the
hand thrown hive
while i
lose myself
between one cup
then the next

//