So Long and Goodnight

"It is, at the most basic level, a bundle of contradictions: a desire for power that strips you of all power. A gesture of strength that divests you of strength. A wish to prove that you need nothing, that you have no human hungers, which turns on itself and becomes a searing need for the hunger itself. It is an attempt to find an identity, but ultimately it strips you of any sense of yourself, save the sorry identity of 'sick'. It is a grotesque mockery of cultural standards of beauty that ends up mocking no one more than you. It is a protest against cultural stereotypes of women that in the end makes you seem the weakest, the most needy and neurotic of all women. It is the thing you believe is keeping you safe, alive, contained - and in the end, of course, you find it is doing quite the opposite. These contradictions begin to split a person in two. Body and mind fall apart from each other..."




So keep yourself intact because I won't be coming back. In a phrase to cut these lips, I loved you.

Spiritual Warfare

I cannot be rid of it unless I fully surrender it. He knows, He sees, He hears. I told Him that I don't want it anymore. But I still have it. Man. I have to tell her. That's part of surrendering, I guess. Because if she knew, she'd do everything to make sure that I didn't have it anymore. That scares me. So I guess if I'm scared of losing it, then I'm not giving it up. Logic sucks.

It's 1 AM. I got off the phone an hour ago. I'm too exhausted from this thorn in my flesh to move, too exhausted to sleep. It has become such a large part of me that I don't know where to stop. I want to stop.

Wow.

What do I have if I don't have you, Jesus? What in this life could mean any more?
Nothing, nothing.

Everything is meaningless.
There is no life without Him.
I feel dead.
I felt so alive, but now I feel so dead.

Oh, make me bold.
Beat me down with a stick until I learn what it's like to really suffer.
I am so unworthy.


Please die ana
For as long as you're here, we're not
You make the sound of laughter
And sharpened nails seem softer


It has become so much of me that I no longer exist. It has hidden it's pain and end results with false beauty and manipulation.

Holy Spirit, pray what needs to be prayed. I don't know anymore. Thank God for You.

I was in the hallway, making my rounds. Every day for as long as I could remember, I would start at the end of the hallway and knock on every door, excluding the one at the very end of the hallway, in the center. The cracks under each of the doors that I knocked on revealed no source of light, but I prided myself in standing tall in the darkness. Outwardly, I was strong, I was tough, and I was threatening. But inwardly, I was no more than a black hole.

I've Been Dirtier Than You Wanna Know

We were in an empty room. The walls were blank and there was no pressure from the outside. We were not close, but close enough to feel each other's body heat. He was incredibly, strangely warm. And he was so clean and proper, yet simultaneously disheveled and casual. There are people that you meet in this world that seem to glow with life when you speak to them, but none could compare to him. His illumination filled my world and for that moment, my heart's previous, superficial desires were quieted and all I wished to do was capture a single beam of his light. I wanted to hold it in my hand, touch it to my heart, and let it fill me as I had never been filled before. He knew my thoughts and took my hand. I resisted, for I did not know him anymore. He was beautiful and gentle, but he was a stranger to me. As I pulled back, he continued in his advances, never ceasing to reach out to me. I eventually gave in, and let my fingers become woven in between his. As we sat like this, holding hands, I felt as if I had caught some of the light that I craved. I shakily stroked his palm with my thumb and felt the familiar scar. We turned to look at each other and his eyes were large and sad. I looked at the box down at the box, which rested at our feet, and thought about the gift that lay inside of it. Once again, he knew my thoughts.

"I cut out my heart for you," he said.

I sat in silence, staring at the box.

Hello, hello,
Get off my back.
You've got me so pressured,
I might collapse.
What good would I be
if I couldn't breathe?
How would you live
vicariously
through me?
See?
You need me.
This is parental dependence reversed.
Yes, I've rehearsed.
I wanted it to be clear
when these words hit your ears.
Although you won't admit
you'll never quit
relying on the things I do,
all the different attitudes.
It breaks your heart
when I start
to sound like you,
to reason as you do.
I've never understood
how it's for my own good
to build a life in unhappiness,
to avoid every form

A Bed, A Book, And His Absence In Between

Two days of obsession
have led to an overall depression
that I cannot, will not, must not shake.
I know this digression
only adds to the many transgressions
thus making me, naming me, proclaiming me as fake.

I say, I say,
I will end this today.

But
Words are only words.
Weight is only weight.
Time is only time,
and I am running late.

They said you'd take this,
but I continue to break this
vessel you've provided;
I am a human divided
in two.
What can I do?

You say, you say
just end this today.

But words are only words.
Weight is only weight.
Time is only time,
and I am indefinitely late.

I say, I say
goodbye.
You say, you say
but why?

Words are only burns.
Weight is only pain.
Time is just a game,
and I am no longer playing.

1

1

9

.

8

Kill me.

Deal With It

I'm cold, and I can't express my thoughts the way that I want to.

I whine, I whine, I whine.
I fade, I fade, I fade.
I fall into the numbers as they rise.
How can I accept letting go of my life?
I see sunshine, but I am being pulled away.
I sit on the floor in dismay.
How can I do this another day?
It's sick, it's sick.
I make myself sick.
As the clock ticks,
I can only focus on this.
I cannot love you today
if I am this way.
Unconditional love?
It is all I wish to give,
so how can I live
when I am this way,
unable to love, unable to pray?
My prayers are dissolved into insolent pleas:
Please let me be, let me be, let me be...
I see
that I am on the edge, dancing with death,
bordering on the cessation of breath,
but what can I do anymore
when life has become such a bore?
I shudder at every knock on the door.
Every pat on the back,
telling me to relax
feels like a threat,
filling me with regret.
Are these people on to me?
Can they see what I can see?
Oh no, it cannot be.
They cannot tell
that these dizzy spells
tend to serve me well.
Stumbling a mile
brings only a smile
as I strain
to get rid of the gain
that covers my frame
in flesh and in shame.
I whine, I whine, I whine.
I fade, I fade, I fade.

Oculus

Eyes, eyes,
all you are is eyes.
You see so much,
you see inside
of me
every time I let myself breathe.

When I made building walls an art,
you ripped them all apart.
How can I even start
to hide from you?

When secrets become well kept
you prove them to be inept
as you always intercept
to find what's true.

Your eyes, your eyes,
I pray they never go blind
because no one else
would ever find
life
in this endless strife.