Memory Foam

Memory Foam

Uncertain who is holding the other

but one of us forgotten, foraging through our home in desperation to remember

what we did not know so cannot name

nor assure this body it is safe.

Blessed are we whose bravery guards the doors and windows

long past signs of danger, so fierce in our defence

it greets each demon as a stranger,

sounding alarms to activate emergency procedures

when the threat is but a spectre

with unfinished business.

Feeble and listless, these spirits will float

amongst the source of their affliction and our sickness

until they find in us a friend.

The Melting Point of Perception

The Melting Point of Perception

You can yell at me till spring turns to summer

turned to leaves turning yellow

but still these demons shout louder.

Here arrives as a long winter path paved with ice,

falling facts shatter on impact

across my frozen feet. It’s snowing glass

and their light rays bend blind eyes to a different reality;

one convinced the past is all that’s left of me.

I pinch the sun between two fingers,

beg for the burning present,

just one beam to heat each muscle,

aching to move.

Remedy for the Body Lost

Remedy for the Body Lost

Steady rhythm, pounding feet

and rising heart beat, caught in a battle of wills

with a maze of mental hills to climb

but covered in a sweat that is finally mine, from my skin,

a body I can again feel alive in through the out breath

where you left, no, where I left you

to starve on the side of a deserted road

with nowhere to escape my precious sunlight

and waiting a lifetime to be rescued.

Now it’s your turn to go through hell,

hear the bells ringing as your time has come

and I am running,

running with power,

power running through my blood.

Choking on Thin Ice

Choking on Thin Ice

The results are in;

I have seen their Instagrams and painted frames

and we are nine tenths not the same.

It will take all the strength I don’t have

to lift this sadness

off this second-rate skin cage,

I could never measure up to win a single round.

So I will count my losses in pounds

and my doubts as all the demons

who never leave my side,

but still I shall smile like I am fine.

Drink this whisky like it is poison

because I have developed a thirst for oblivion,

drowning in the curse of my own antipathy.

Wreckage

Wreckage

The edge of a cliff is a beautiful place

but I misplace confidence in my footing,

forget the risk of mud slides,

the effect of tears on mossy rocks.

By now, the fall should not come as a shock

and the shore breaks waves

like I am sure to break bones.

Blown away are the foundations

of a love to come home to,

for who could ever soften the landing

of a heart demanding to spill its own blood.

You Say I Am Still Beautiful, But I’d Rather You Told Me I Was Brave

You Say I Am Still Beautiful, But I’d Rather You Told Me I Was Brave

Sometimes the only pain I can carry is the one that burns, that draws blood, because beating myself up is the only bearable unbearable way I know to bruise. Shallow breaths don’t support screaming, starving turns dark thoughts lightweight and lightheaded means less space to care. Wait till you see my bones and how the hurt just falls off me when it has nothing to hang on to, wait till you hear my heart rupture and rush red through my ribcage like it was running for its life. Then watch how love pours out my arteries and leaves when it believes I’m better off empty. You touch this frozen, unfeeling skin but all this shrinking means I shall slip through your fingers. Taste me on the breeze, somewhere not here.