#wordgasm

I have spilled pieces of me that no longer breathed. I feel dead, inside and out. Yet I try to smile because I don’t want anyone to ask me what’s wrong. If only I had known what’s wrong, I might have done something about it. But I don’t know. So I live –like a burden upon myself.

I have to dream it all over again. I have to murder the old characters —the smiling faces. I have to envision a different story and paint a new picture. Same place. But a different soul to bond with. I have to let go of the part of me that existed in micro moments and flashes.

I chose a wrong path to infidelity. I tied my limbs to unbreakable bonds. I lost my breaths over moments that did not exist. I let myself burn in ashes and smoke away in ghosted air. I have been my own enemy.

a dream so beautiful it aches.

I have this vision that encroaches my mind like a pandemic. I am looking out the glass window -upon the tall buildings and bright, flickering lights from a dark bedroom dimmed with pure darkness. You walk to stand behind me, wrapping your careful hands around my timid waist. Your chin on my shoulder as we hear the entire world going silent. Everything in slow motion, everything vanishing in the background. It’s us against the world -just as we craved for. A dangerous feeling that makes us feel safe for the one and only time. We are here every night resting our realities to a graveyard where dreams live.

I am the sinner and the saint. I am the broken and the healer. I am the whimper and the laughter. I am the ocean and the sky. The day and the night. I am nothing. But I am everything.

I thought I had a shoulder to cry on.

Until I woke up and realised it was a frozen plank.

I am ashamed that I cannot figure out yet what I want. What I have always wanted. Because what is life without longing?

She drew in trouble wherever she went. There was something odd about her. Maybe it was the way her eyes laid on anyone. Or it was the way she couldn’t let anybody help her. They all thought they knew her. But it wasn’t what it was. They only knew what she wanted them to believe. Nobody knew her. So when she disappeared, she left no traces behind. Some say it was a getaway. But I know. I know she was taken.

I am throwing my own body in the ocean full of giant whales with sharp teeth to rip my body off as if it never existed. I want to let the wolves have the big sacrifice and feast on it as they’ve been longing for. Here, in this place where they kill, I found love. I’ve found it where it wasn’t supposed to be.

The last time I saw her she was blooming like daisies, wearing a weary smile, cloaked in hopeless gown of despair. She told me she was scared of something -or someone. Her dreams caught the best of her, fell down trying to fly so high. She told me she had left God behind and she was ashamed. The last time I saw her, she was fading but she was alive. They killed her. Piece by piece. Second by second. The last time I saw her I could hear her breathing ashes of her broken soul.

And you don’t even like me. But you like the idea of me —the idea of having me.

I need somebody to save me -literally.

From this point on, I need someone to hold my hand tight, hear my heart breaking, let me cry with my head against their chest. Sit with me in silence, for a little while.

I need someone to do a ritual, cleanse my soul. Bury my sinful soul and burn it. To help me get out of this vicious cycle of addiction. I cannot do it. If I could, I would. But I have certainly crossed the point. 

I am unaware of the days and nights. I am unaware of my whereabouts. I don’t know who I have talked to. I don’t know the people I see everyday. They look like walking corpse to me. I am already living in an apocalypse. And I need help.

This unfaithful sobriety from the taste of you -I almost once had in my mouth.I am staying quiet and I am staying shut.

I am aware I am not allowed to admit that I miss you. Because you gave me no reason to. Even if it means death, I want to die whispering the truth,

talking to your heart, before it stops beating too. 

I do not have a promise to make while my existence is vanishing. I hope you can forgive me for not existing -because I am but not here. It worries me to think of who is going to take care of you once I’m gone, it cuts me to my core. But something has been pulling me to the other side of it, and I’m afraid I’ld have to go.

I exist —only in a memory.