Hell has found me yet again,
I live here, these walls of white and black,
All this fullness of empty,
These memories I rotate around,
Like clockwork, the untold stories,
The forgotten ones, hidden in china pots,
Drunk over tea with my family who lie that anything happened,
That nothing was real here.
Even when they found me broken in different ages,
Scars left on my skin,
Words that killed whole parts of my being,
In different realms, and spaces,
How me and my brothers wore bones for breakfast lunch and dinner,
They only ever fed us half full,
In charge of children,
Spoon feed us fear,
Everything in limits,
Love always on condition
Always wondering why I could not lot be loved whole by them,
Hours became years,
Lost I find myself trough my ages of hell,
Days would drag into decades,
I struggle with time always now,
Everything feels upside down,.
The sky is not Up, and the ground is not under my feet,
I seem to have fallen sideways into another space,
A place where I cannot tell what is real anymore
They tried to end me, an assault,
On soul and body,
My spirit was already dead,
But they got me this time.
Then as life does,
Life prepared roses for me,
To gift me the blood from its thorns,
To ensure all parts of my chest were war torn,
Love is not an easy endeavour in the end,
I know of lost love, of friendships missing,
Ex loves that got tied in knots of clouds,
In times where I did not know what I now know,
And how I bled for I could not breathe anymore,
Responsibility sworn into my tongue,
For J know my heart is unique in its making,
It’s not whole,
Yet my care for people took up the space of whole Homes,
Whole rooms full of Muses, curiosity and inspiration dripping,
The wonder I had in my People’s beauty,
Their characteristics, in their uniqueness, the contours on their fingers, and their laughter’s,
Their interests and how they even walked,
Now even in their absence I pour roses and hibiscus across our graves,
For the love I believed in, lives still.
I just am rung up in a fear that reeks,
Soaked in mistrust that they gifted me,
My world, in constant collapse,
How can I trust the believers who could not show in the end?
Instead now,
I wear my skeleton, a dying body,
Begging my skin to Wake up ,
My heart a horcrux, not sure where it begins or where I lost it,
Cannot locate it even if I wanted to,
Deadened in it’s tracks by mistreatment,
Both presented upon Me,
but also the self hatred I spoke upon to myself,
Not my voice, but there’s, but still Mine.
In correction,
I die and I wake daily,
Wondering if I ever will forget my loves and these memories of old,
And this empty, and fatigue,
Even when I dream and knit with the stars,
Even when I weave with the heart of the sky,
I find myself delusional,
Wondering what the fuck all this is about?