All Nighter Numbness

I know they are working. Despite the fact that I had everything I have ever feared thrown at me in the past four hours, I am unable to get emotional over it. My mind just drifted over to something completely different. I feel kind of guilty for letting any sort of positivity stream into my mind but I need it. Now, more than ever, I need it. My mind has been numbed so much that I am not freaking out or running away from what he said to me, I am just kind of accepting it honesty.

I don't know what I am trying to say One of those side effects they forget to tell you.

"Yeah, you will be fine; you won't go crazy, but, you won't know what the hell you are thinking or trying to say either. Enjoy kiddies."

I hate this. I hate not knowing how I feel. I just sort of am? I know I am unable to handle the sheer magnitude of emotion that could be crippling me right now though, so I am just going to put up with it.

I wish he would talk to me. I really do. I miss him, and need him more than I need anyone in this second. I wish he wasn't angry with me or that he didn't blame me. I'd do anything to prove to him that it wasn't me, that I didn't do this. Literally anything. I shouldn't jump to him so much but he is the only one that will always have my back when I need it, except this once.

He doesn't know that I am the one talking to the doctors.

He doesn't know that I am the one that will make the final decision.

He doesn't know that I am the one talking to the Funeral Home.

He doesn't know that I am the one trying to get Fi clean so that she can mourn her daughter.

As far as he is concerned I am ignoring the whole situation.

At this point though, if he thinks so little of me or who I am, what is the point in telling him that. I am pretty sure he will just assume I am lying to him anyway. I want to prove to him that I am not the selfish fuck up he knows me to be, and that I am trying to help in whatever small way I can. I just refuse to resort to playing "Show n' Tell" with him. I'm not doing this for him. I'm doing this so that no one else has to. I'm doing this, because it is the only way I can have her back on this one.

I am doing this for her.

Like I said though, I wish I didn't have to do it alone.

I simply just don't have a choice in the matter; I'm fated to deal with it all on my own.

The Rain Was The Only Witness

The rain was the only witness.

Pain scorched down and wood met bone. My fight was running its course and I couldn't find a place to hide. She turned up.

"Keep breathing, Babe. I'm here now."

She shouldn't have come. It wasn't her fight. It wasn't even my fight anymore but I had taken the reins and I wasn't going to back down.

"Never go down without a fight, Babe."

I never do. Ever. I just think that if you are now, why can't I? Why aren't you pulling through this. You are a soldier. You're supposed to be able for this. You weren't supposed to be the one I lost. It was always going to be the other way around. You saved my life. You should have let me be the one to take this.

"The wrong person was in that fucking car."

Yeah. I know. I always know what you're thinking, you don't even have to say it.

You always know what I am thinking, which is exactly why you do. You know how to make me feel, especially when I don't want to.

"He's just upset."

No. He's just honest. It was always the way things were supposed to be. It is the natural order that I would be the one lost.

So Stupid.

"Just keep going, babe. You know you're not weak."

I'm not strong either. I'm not able to do this. Positivity just isn't an option right now when all I can hear are the voices that cut through any confidence I can muster up.

"I am fucking untouchable."

Such silly immaturity. Such a hard headed way of looking at things. Machines beep to keep you alive and I know that you're probably wondering what all the fuss is about.

The clocks keep moving and the rain is the only witness.

If I think about every memory that involves you, it kills me. If I think of your laugh or how you used that voice to get me to do things for you. If I allow myself to remember that conversation where I cried about him, I can't help but break down. You always knew how to fix everything. You only talked to me because of him, but stood by me even when he wouldn't. You understood me more than most because you went through it with me. Now, every comfort I once had causes me nothing but pain. I can't breathe. I can't see past the fact that a I type this, you are idly fighting for your life and I am not there to help you. I am not there by your side during the biggest battle of your life, even when I swore blind that I would be. Do you remember that day we made those promises? I won't back out, but know that if it comes to that, he will hate me forever.

Turns out it's a habit of mine.

How can I honestly live while I know you can't? How can I bring myself to face him, when I know he blames me for everything. I am willing to take his blame as long as it makes him better. I can't stand to see him hurt. I am getting unnecessarily angry with stupid stuff that shouldn't even matter. I just want to be there. I know I can't help, but I can at least be there for someone instead of stuck here doing shit all and wondering if he is hating me as much as I do.

"I could never hate either of you."

Turns out you were wrong. I'm sorry, I truly am. I know you hate me, and I shouldn't expect any different after everything, but not this. I didn't do this. You know I would have put myself in that car sooner than I'd have let anyone get into it. I just need you right now. A lot. I can't do this on my own, Jack. I can't. Do you realise that I care more about your opinion of me than I do for even my own? Don't hate me for the wrong reasons, please?

"Why the fuck did you follow me down?"

"Because you would do the exact same thing for me."

I am sorry.

I will never forgive myself.

"If this was the last day of our lives, what would you do?"

Not this.

Axe Murderer

I am so lost, I think I might be numb. I don't know.

I am so self involved that I can't make a right move. I don't know how to deal with all of this properly. Who can I honestly turn to right now? I'm taking so many people down that I'm pretty sure I am standing alone in all of this. What do you honestly do when your whole life is crashing around your ears while you're trying to hold up the lives of other people?

Old habits die hard.

I'm tempted. I'm trying so hard to cope right now, it's only a matter of time before I buckle.

I am not strong enough to keep my head above water any more.

I am not able to keep everything standing.

I'm sorry.

I wish I could help.

I'm making things worse.

I wish I could just disappear.

Nothing can go wrong, and I can't hurt anyone.

I don't even have the strength for that, to be honest.

Russian Roulette

Sweat drips,

Hearts beat

Decisions falter

And the weakening vigour of my ego drops.

“Won’t be me”

Assurances that can’t be felt

There are six barrels and one bullet.

Beatings rain down

Wrong move

Crack.

Wasn’t me.

Tears sting

Pulse drops

Thoughts suffer

And the relief of my suffering ego sighs

“Can’t be me”

A denying urge not quite believed

There are five barrels and one bullet

Bruises kiss my skin

Blood pours

Crack

Wasn’t me.

Scars shine

Beats get thicker

Faith erupts

And the disruption of my ego remains

“Won’t be me”

Positivity that can’t quite be sustained

There are four barrels and one bullet.

Skin slices

Ripping painfully

Crack

Wasn’t me.

Fingers grip

Breaths quicken

Images flash

And the suffering of my ego is evident

“Can’t be me”

Hoping against blind reason

There are three barrels and one bullet

Wounds swell

Painful tenderness

Crack

Wasn’t me.

Sobs control

Empty heart

Nightmares screech

And the remnants of my ego search for a home

“It might be me”

An understanding of inevitability

There are two barrels and one bullet

Bones snap

Muscles destroyed

Crack.

It’s always me.

Faith

Finger tips slip helplessly from afar;

A dagger shedding moments of hysteria.

Nowhere is there such a gripping hold

than right where I am laying my head.

Lullabies of Genocide and cartoons of disaster

missing my body by inches

Strength in numbers protected by angels

Belief in what only might be.

Faith grows stronger with every new second

Bibles burning ferociously beside us

A glide of the yesterdays that haunt our lives

Obliterated by a glow of power.

Crosses hang melancholy backwards and askew

A society which neglects to notice

when shoeless feet tread shards of economy

There is nothing to blame but ourselves.

While we look for escapes of the reality we have

Blaming what we don't understand

Tiny miracles occur unnoticed

Salvation for one hopeless soul

Hate burns wildly in the eyes of the messenger

Red pupils spitting fragments of ignorance

Put down your gun the message is flawed

Chinese whispers don't warrant a bullet

Huge picket sins and screeching letters

Decorate the roads in protest

Of what we can't change in who we are

Nor want to become in the future

It is not what belief is supposed to be

when the wind whistles by in no judgement

When kisses are laid with such tender approach

how far must it go to be seen?

Clouds of desire and true adoration

buckling the argument of hindsight

Tomorrow's victory can only achieve

one more silent but perfect miracle.

Daybreak

Milk bottle squeals

to last minute groans

of blown out candles;

wax dripping helplessly into

puddles.

Greying feathers

upon a dried up arch

haphazardly edging outwards

fuelling the bristles of

bushes.

Immaculate days

brought to light on

the wings

of juggling residues;

Shooting Jupiter with beams of

laughter.

Sworn out faces

clouded in masks of wool

and glitter

Beckoning a demon of

ignorance.

Anonymous plays

on the brow of intelligence

regurgitating vowels;

cess-pits of

humiliation.

Here We Are Again..

I am back to how I always have been. I have my anger back, I have my laugh back and I have the need to be with her firmly gripping my being. I can't not think about her. I can't sit and pretend that she isn't on my mind when in reality there is nothing else on my mind. She consumes every second of every minute and I am quite happy to allow it. I am completely happy with knowing that for as long as I can sit and think, I can sit and think of her.

I need this. I need this desire. It reminds me that I am still real at times. It keeps me in the knowledge that I still exist, that I can still feel and that I haven't allowed myself to numb to the emotional warfare that takes place on the planet on a daily basis. I tried for so long to avoid it that to need it has become a huge shock to the system.

I have done some regrettable things. I have acted out against the feelings but I have recognised it as wrong and fixed it. I am so lost in everything that I want that I have forgotten not to hope. I have forgotten broken promises and empty desire. I have washed away the filth of what has happened in the past and I get excited at the prospect of tomorrow.

I have bad days. I have days where I want nothing more than to walk away, but painfully, she comes to me and I am once again reduced to knowing I couldn't ever just walk away. I am helpless to everything that she stands for and every day I try to live up to the expectation and perfection she deserves. I am nowhere near but I am not done trying.

I am back.

I have my thoughts back.

I have my words back.

I won't let the doubts of others become mine.

Blegh

I don't seem to care anymore; about anything. I get so wound up that it is impossible to ignore that I do. Simple things set off the most complicated of mood swings. Regurgitating anger aimed at someone else and shooting it in all directions.

I need to stop letting these things get to me.

I am not this person.

I refuse to be.

It's in your head

It's going nowhere

It's building;

Exploding into a

m i l l i o n p i e c e s

that won't be

ignored.

It's in your head

It's keeping you company

It's straddling your thoughts;

Holding them

down

and

taking them as a

prisoner of war.

It's in your head

It's the way speech slurs

It's the way hips might move

It's holding the hand of

every fear

you once had

and making it stay quiet

in the midst of

breakdown.

It's all in your head.

It's all keeping you down.

Safe from the height of

trouble.

It's all in your head.

Memories,

hopes,

fears

and

dreams.

It's swallowing you whole

and

It's all just in your head.

Rant.

Okay...Enough.

I am allowing this bullshit negativity manifest into an uncontrollable surge of complete despair too easily. The violent sobbing is inducing a dry heaving of complete doubt and an upsurge of acidic rage. I am letting this go too far so I should just stop it. Stop letting things build on to my shoulders. I can't hold them all up. Not now. I am weakening past the point of no return and I am fighting with every part of my soul to stop it. I refuse to let myself get that far into the hole again. I refuse to let my determination waver in anyway. Yes it would be easier just to pack up and fuck off back home with a sob story and a broken ego, but then I would be proving them all right.

I think my pride is the only thing that keeps me from doing it. The fact that I won't let anyone be proved right is keeping me on my feet. If I fall I will have to stand and receive the "I told you so" glares and the torturous glances of judgement. I'm not fucking stupid, regardless of how many times you make me feel it. I know I am capable of doing this. I know I can be everything and more. I just need you to believe in me for one second. Stop throwing the doubts of finances and worries about my job at me. Look at the bigger fucking picture and stop being so ignorant.

You tell me that I am being naive. I call it being optimistic. I can't let myself think that it might not happen because then I will get comfortable with the idea and give up. You really want me to come home, because you think I would be better off? Or do you want me to go back because you can't get your head around the idea that I may have found a way out of that miserable existence you call life there. I will never be that person. I will never ever be satisfied with what you have. I will never be able to get excited with the things that are so ridiculously basic. You call it snobery, I call it ambition.

I can't believe you actually told me that I shouldn't rule out a career as a shop assistant. Honestly. Are you fucking kidding me!? I have a dream that is, I have to admit, completely achievable for me. I have the brains. I have some of the skill and you want me to keep my options open in relation to working in fucking Tesco for the rest of my life. Great fucking role model you are. Seriously, you should write a self help book on how to turn your ambition into shit.

I think sometimes you want me to turn out like him. I think you are scared that I will be a success. I can never be happy in that life. Ever. Every single time you tell me that I am in some way lesser than him, it rips a small hole in me. Small enough that I can hide it from you, but big enough that I actually start to doubt who I am and who I am meant to be.

He is a fucking addict.

He has no job.

He is facing prison.

I have never touched drugs.

I have my own money.

I am in University.

And I am the one that is failing, just because he has a girlfriend and a home now?!

I think you forget that I am still 6 years younger than him. I am six years younger yet I have already started my own life completely independent of you and your fucked up priorities. I will never be like him, no, but unlike you I see that as something to be proud of.

We're actually starting to get along for the first time in years, and I can't help but envy him because regardless of how much he fucks up, I will still never be as good as him. I resent him for your comparison of me to him. It's sad really.

Not as sad as knowing that regardless of how amazing my life is, you will never ever be able to let go of the minor fucking details, and you wil never truly know me.

I love you, but please just leave me the fuck alone.

Scars

A silvery shimmer of ghosts from the past

Swim

s u g g e s t i v e l y

in the air around my head;

Bringing back

temptations

of how it

used to be

Transparent tails

l i c k

my cheek softly

Seducing me with attitudes of who I used to be

Angry red eyes

b u r n

into my skin

Showing me that I haven’t changed all that much

Shiny self inflicted scars

Replaced so...

w i l l i n g l y

With deep black etchings

Each line

scratched

with a story

of untold

misery

Each black shape

drawn

with memories

of time

never

to be forgotten

Sincere moments of how it should be

Covering

linear

blood

shed

(over the uncontrollable)

Fists grip

and hold on tight

Not knowing what will happen next

So

out

of

reach

Yet

still so mouth wateringly

destructive

Nothing

could be more perfect

Than the

tantalising sounds

Emitted

from the one source welcomed

Nothing

more pleasing

Than the situation

As it stands

Simple

words

Simple

gestures

Simple

seconds

Laced

with toxic yesterdays

Nothing

more enticing

(Than knowing it is a phase)

Nothing

compares

(To how it should be)

L e v e l h e a d e d

and

drowning

A new sort of overwhelming urgency

Smothering

in a blanket

Hiding

the (necessary) from sight

Throwing

obstacles

in the path of success

Throwing

problems

in the (well executed) solutions

Pockets burning

and

bruises forming

(Heads melting without need)

Old

wounds

healing

and

new

scars

forming

Another memory

carved

into sensitive limbs

Another war story

to be told

to willing ears

Another art form

to be portrayed

in proud shame.

Nanna...

I guess I should start out by saying I miss you. It just doesn’t seem like it is enough though. I miss everything; I miss how life was when you were around. Your presence alone made everything seem okay. Every day I wake up and I live my life trying to prove to the world, to you, that I am capable of being mature and sensible in my decisions. It is so hard. I just want you to come home and tell me that it’s okay. I need you to hug me and tell me you forgive me. I don’t want to live with the regret and guilt anymore.

You know, I think of you every day. I find myself idly stroking my right arm constantly, just letting myself get lost in the memories. Do you remember the day you bought me some play-doh, even though you knew Mam would have a stroke? Or that Christmas that I bought you the ballerina bear and you laughed at his tutu? Do you remember how you used to let me run through the sheets when you were hanging them on the washing line? Or how you used to let me ask silly questions about the alphabet? I do. I remember it all so well that I sometimes make myself believe that it is all real again; that you are still here. I can still smell that familiar scent. I can still hear you singing our song. I still let myself be comforted by you.

The day you died, I broke. I stopped being myself and told myself I would never let myself be that hurt by someone going again. I was hurt, and I hate to admit it, but I was angry. I was angry with myself, I was angry with Granda and I was angry with you. You were the one that taught me that God would always be here for me. You promised me he would help me through anything and never let anything bad happen to me. The day you died, it felt like he turned his back on me. I know you would tell me I was being silly, but I was heart-broken. You were the only one that was always there. You were the only thing I could ever rely on completely. You still are. Without you and what you taught me, I would be a different person. I don’t think anyone will ever comprehend how much I adore you. You are my heart and my fears encompassed into one and I wear you on my sleeve. You’re probably shaking your head at my tattoos but, it just means I can have you with me forever; exactly where I need you.

I am so sorry. I am sorry for not being strong enough to be there when you needed me to be. I am sorry I let my own selfish emotion get in the way of showing you that I love you. There isn’t a single day that goes by that I don’t feel the sting of guilt and self disgust about that night. I tried. I know I didn’t try hard enough, but I was literally being torn in two. I wanted to run. I was right there. I can only hope that you know that. I didn’t completely abandon you. I was at the door, I was merely steps away, but I couldn’t stop the tears. I am sorry for every moment of shame I may have brought upon you. I lost my way. I was selfish and I know that everything I have done is a complete contradiction to the morals you gave me. I can never really explain what I done, I just felt sorry for myself. Everything that happened after you left was battering me from every angle; nothing was easy. I wanted to be as strong as possible. I wanted to show people that I could be everything that was expected of me. I hated feeling so fragile.

Even when I needed someone to help me the most, I would never admit to it. I could have saved myself more bloodshed than I care to mention had I let anyone see how much I was hurting but I just couldn’t. No one ever got that close to me. I’m starting to trust people more now. I still refuse to let myself be vulnerable but I am getting better. I still need your help, though. Do you remember telling me I was beautiful? I believed you for so long. No one else told me that as a kid, ever. It is silly but I always felt so mature when you told me that; so grown up. I lost the ability to accept that compliment when you died. I self destructed on so many different levels. Even now, I can’t believe it. How could I, someone so capable of inflicting pain, be in anyway beautiful?

There is so much that I wish I could tell you. There are so many people I want you to meet and so much that I need you to be proud of. I didn’t run away from home, I am doing what I think is best for my own life and I hope you can see that. Maybe I should be at home to help fix things, but I am sick of being the one that is left with the mess. I don’t want to have to fight other people’s battles for a while. I will always go back. I will never abandon anyone, but until they truly need me I need to try and fix my own path; I’m using the first gift you gave me. I only ever want to make you proud and atone for every mistake I have ever made. I hope that someday you can forgive me; that you can see that I never meant for it to be this way. Every single thing I do is for that purpose. You are my hero and I don’t think there is a single person that has ever touched my life like you did. Every single time I have that dream, it kills another part of me. I can’t keep losing you - the pain is too strong; even now, the tears are laced with acid and sting just as much as they did that day.

Thank you... for everything. Thank you for loving me when I thought no one could. Thank you for the gift of language. Thank you for every kiss and every hug - for every comfort. Thank you for being there for me when I needed you. Thank you for your innocence and for your strength. You know even the doctors were amazed at how long you fought. They gave you 12 hours and of course you had to prove them wrong by giving us all 72. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.

Thank you for giving Granda back his will to fight. I don’t know how you done it but I can’t explain how happy it has made me. I need him more than ever. I need him to keep the memories of that house alive for me. I know he is a cranky bastard but I idolise him. I’m growing up to be just like him, and I grin every time I am told that. The two of you gave me so much; I literally owe everything to you.

Thank you for giving me back my will to fight. You are the solitary reason I refuse to waste a single moment of my life anymore. I want to love and be loved. I want to experience everything I can. I want to trust and see the best in people. I’m trying. Even now, I fight the urge to just pack up and run; to destroy another vital part of my life. I won’t though. I won’t prove the rest of them right.

Most of all, I want to thank you for your belief in me. You gave me the time I needed to learn new things and you always were the one to encourage me. You saw whatever potential there was and tried to show me. I know I didn’t see it for so long but I am starting to now. Your belief is my strength, and I know I could never have gotten this far without it.

Happy Birthday, Nanna. The only gift I can give you is to represent you down here; to be the best I can be. The next time I see you I want you to be proud of me, of who I am becoming. You weren’t just my grandmother – you were my first best friend, you were my secret keeper, you were my teacher and sometimes even my mother. I will be forever grateful for being allowed the opportunity of knowing you.
I love you, never think that I ever didn’t.

I miss you and can’t wait to see you again,
Kerri x

Random Insomniac Moment

I do not fear death; it doesn't scare me as much as maybe it should. I fear nothing but fear itself. If I a allow myself to be afraid then I am giving into every part of the person I don't want to be. Yet, the irony is that, in fearing fear and trying to avoid it, I am allowing it to win. I am overtaken by the throes of anxiety in single moments. I break out in a cold sweat, my breath becomes ragged and I am a mess of emotion. It is not the prospect of my death which brings it on, but the moments before it; hurtling toward the ground with nothing to do to help myself except scrutinise mistakes and recount moments of how I could have changed it.

Lack of control is alien to me. It was alien to me at least. I despise the feeling of not knowing what will happen next. I hate not having the steering wheel, I loathe flying and I am uncomfortable with other people's decisions because there is nothing I can do to avoid the fear should something go wrong. Being at the mercy of someone else leaves me vulnerable and feeling naked against the elements. I should trust more, right? I should but to place my whole existence, and with it sanity, into the hands of one other person is like allowing someone to manually pump my heart. One idle error could end things in an instant.

Night time hits; insomnia. The anxiety I feel showers down upon my body and the paranoia at everything sets in. Not a single part of my life is safe from the sleuths of wrong doing as they take the reigns. Every thought that filters through my sleep depraved mind is given volume and I am unable to ignore it. It screams at me. It asks me the questions I try to hide from and it throws details at me. impossible to silence the stabbing pain as they thump by body violently.

I am happy. Sincerely, I have never been so content. Day comes and I am perfectly satisfied. However, the nightmares of self reliance and control keep me awake and steal the control from my grip once nightfall surrounds us. I am trusting fate in so many ways that I am slowly learning to like it. I just have too many unanswered questions. I have too many plans and uncertain outcomes. I am no longer selfishly pursuing what I want and so I have other people to take into consideration when I envisage something. My presence hangs in the balance as I attempt to reassure myself and put the beasts of burden back into their holes.

I need to sleep.

Silent Night

Submerged

in what could be;

Brain matter enveloped in strands of desire,

Glittering aspiration clogging decision valves,

Indulging in the forbidden wants of time.

Daydreaming

clouding judgement completely;

Simple words being exchanged,

Easy touches being shared,

Expected reactions expressing need.

Effortlessly.

Losing myself

in plans and extremes;

Fantasising a constant

Engulfed in a certain perfection

Envisaging the satisfaction and joviality.

Finding depths

I believed to be non-existent;

Dwelling on finer details

Blinded by colour and emotion

Comforted in an unknown familiarity.

Together.

Secrets

Some things are best left unsaid; holding your tongue at the right moment in order to save yourself from a fight, keeping secrets you know should stay that way, holding on to memories that belong to just you, keeping an air of mystery. Every reason fits for something I have within my mind. Excuses pile up and suddenly the silence is the thing that dominates. Words left hanging on hooks of sheer breath; balancing dangerously from the tip of your tongue, in order to keep the air untainted.

I keep secrets in order to leave what has past where it belongs. I destroy the urge to spill what is left of their decaying bodies and smile inwardly at my digression. No simple answers will ever be a true compensation to their meaning in shaping who I have become, and not a single second of what I experienced has gone unnoticed by my growth. I am everything I have lived through encompassed into a single representation of lessons learned.

I keep secrets in order to hold sacred the brief moments of rarity. Moments I will never see again with the people that had the most influence over my thoughts. Every precious memory filed and labeled for my own visitation; yet still I am unable to deny them. When asked I delight in some detail; my pride and undoubted contentment within these moments being shared with whomever asked. I become too enthralled in reliving the minutes to care about hiding them; a total trust being created.

I keep secrets because some things are supposed to be discovered. Desires, future plans and opinions all need to be worked out. Your silence being an incentive for people to try to understand you. Your every move and word being scrutinised for a deeper connection and comprehension. Nothing is for certain yet, details can be retained to allow a deeper interest. Human nature is to want what we can't have. We delve into forbidden treats to keep a fresh outlook; to find an impossible originality in our day to day lives.

I keep my thoughts to myself in certain situations in order to avoid the creation of new secrets. No longer do I need to keep myself entertained with the pettiness of others, it bores me. I feign interest in new drama and keep words captive behind sealed lips so as not to encourage its development. I know when enough is enough for the first time in my life and I exercise it whenever possible.

Secrets are a necessary part of life. Coaxing too much can cause heartache and disappointment yet leaving too much hidden is dull and lifeless.A thin strand of acceptability stands alone between two extremities of life; shielding one from the other like a referee in a death match. Divulging is a luxury I can't afford, yet simple dabbles at the fabric of my psyche are essential for my sanity and the satisfaction of others need of details.

Untold Readiness

Sitting in the corner, a white glow highlighting a multitude of unwelcome emotion. Seething anger burning holes through the screen; spitting acidic words onto the alkaline white. Blind rage being tapped rhythmically onto the unsuspecting keyboard. Eyes glare, tongue clicks and breaths become ragged. Ghosts of what could happen linger in the thickened, tense air. Scenarios of anguish and despair laced with an excitement which should be forbidden. Gunshots resound; a fear bursting through its steel encasing in an instant, throwing the whole mess on to a higher platform. A standing of a deeper consequence which can risk our most basic form.

Heat builds into an unyielding cesspit of passion and lust. Every thought adding to the discomfort and frustration. The smallest things setting the patterns into motion; tiny details making the story. Suddenly, a feud is in full progress; two essential parts of life battling it out for priority. Sex or violence. A red hot hatred burning through to my crotch, expanding the tension. Focus is lost for the briefest of seconds and everything fades away, the wash of white glare dims.

Guns strapped, fists smashed and bones snapped.

I fear the inevitable in so many ways. I am petrified of what I must do yet, I am ready. Things are falling into place, everything I have tried to hide is standing in the foreground awaiting my response. I have a lot to learn, I have insecurities to face and I have skills to obtain from others, but I am a hungry student. I know that the experience is reliant on me and me alone. I decide how it ends, if it ends. I decide if I end. I do not fear others, their power is nothing. I can handle the kicks and the bruises. I will bleed if I have to, but I will draw blood and leave marks of my own. I am merely afraid of my own stubbornness. My inability to walk away when beaten will be my downfall. Weapons will be drawn and danger will ring heavily around me. I will not run. The bells can be smashed as long as I can keep pushing against them; the cold trigger will press hotly against my quivering fingertips.

Fingers pulling, teeth grinding, and lips pressing.

I fear the inevitable; in the least frightened sense of the word. I need it. Frustrations can be brought to down to simple gestures and an unending battle for control. Strength relies on will power and ability. Blood, sweat and tears can only go so far. Hot skin presses together to create a mist of gratitude and longing, a withstanding force of its own. Blood rushes to the surface of the skin, scarlet desire rouging cheeks with steamed lust. I know what I have to do and once again I am ready. A new and very different fight awaits my tired mind and battered body. No longer do I hide from the underlying emotion behind the need of the softer trigger finger to touch me. I take it and make it mine, I keep it at bay visibly. Its damage eating me internally in a pain that caresses my every pore. Flames rising from my chest and breathing against her ear, whispering nothing and everything all at once. I can handle the absence, I can handle the tiny droplets of condensation gliding sensual lines along my torso; I will draw moisture too. I will get what I want and fight until the last second, until my last willing gasp. The tension gets deeper, a twisting creation tying everything it surrounds into a bass of absolute greed. Octaves later the battle enters a diminuendo and power is reinstated to the losing party. Satisfied fingertips press warmly against opposing palms, softly.

Sitting in a corner, a white light glaring into the face of nothing. A grin, a snarl of teeth and a seething hatred shooting through busy veins. A face, which can never be read honestly, is highlighted against the bland backdrop of indifference.

No Point In Fighting It Anymore

No, I'm not that person anymore. No I won't allow myself to be controlled by my anger. I am reasonable and logical in my decision making; rational. I try to keep myself out of trouble and I ignore the uprising of adrenalin in my vessels. I fight each and every day to suppress the battles that take place in my mind and body. I've lived a life of instantaneous moves and unrelenting consequences. Ive taken the blows, Ive healed the wounds and Ive nursed the scars. I gave it up and I live my new life denying that side of me. For what?

I will ignore it where possible, but push me far enough and I will take you down. I will only try to hold it back to a certain point. Push me to that point and I will retaliate with all of my strength; I won't stop until you are down and begging for my retreat. I make the rules, I am the only thing that matters and I am the only thing that you should fear.

Every second I think of you, I envisage your bloodied face and shrinking vigour. Every wrong move you make, I watch and I take note. I'm not ignoring it, I will not let it go. Keep pushing and brace yourself. For every second of silence and ignorance you live within, I live another second of growing strength and unwavering determination. It no longer becomes a matter of my lack of self control and temper; lines are crossed and I am in complete control. Every move is choreographed and defiant, every decision is scrutinised thoroughly.

Fuck with me and I will make your life a living hell.

Fuck with me and I will leave you begging for air and dripping with your own blood.

Fuck with me and I will destroy you.

Lyrical Mindset

Instantly we are thrown into perfection

Step by step, soft threading

And the souls of oxygen surround us

Strings of passion tying us in a loop

Under siege by the fists of doubt

Powerlessly fighting to break free and break out

Choking slowly on words unsaid

Silence unbroken in pure fear

Windows of lust left fogged and unclear.

And yeah I feel it

And yeah it’s finally happening to me

I’m right there with you, baby

For as long as you let me

And yeah I want it

I want everything that it could be.

Battles of denial end with a kiss

A single bullet through my efforts

Your lips, your eyes, your everything

A new rush of blood for my corpse

Building a life on foundations of uncertainty

Shaky yet withstanding against brutality.

Pleasantries awash with suggestive undertones,

Smirks painted with sexual torture,

Words laced with untold emotion

and instantly everything makes sense.

Circles

Walking in circles

Destroying the shape

Wanting to break free of the cycle.

Kicking up heels 

In a cloud of clear dust

Explaining the thoughts with simplicity

Turning the corners

Intriguingly real reactions

Brought forwards on wings of demons

Wounds bleeding heavily

Flesh torn apart at the seams

Hemorrhaging unwanted details obtrusively

Tongues clicking secretly

Words built with thick cement

Falling and crushing all arguments

Walking in circles

Feet bleeding and sore

Trying to break free of the cycle.

Rant...

Am I seriously supposed to hold loyal to the thought that family is the most important unit of my life? Am I supposed to drop every single ball I have juggling in the air to help him out? I mean I could, I could bring myself to go home and take care of it; appease his selfish belief that I owe him something just because we so happen to share a mother. 

Really?

I can't get away from his bullshit affairs and half arsed promises. He erases two years of my life and throws me straight back into the cesspit that was my life before I dragged my ass out of that. I fixed my attitude and dismissed those people from my life. If I can do it, why can't he?

For years he was my idol.. the one person I looked up to when I needed something; guidance. He could do no wrong and I defended him against everything. Even the drug thing didn't bother me so much. The night he snapped at me for refusing to take it, I accepted his apology. The slaps I got for thinking I was better than the people I was surrounded by, I accepted them too. He was my brother. His affection was boundless, always willing to drop what he was doing for me so that I would smile. I listened to every syllable that he spoke with such care that I was slowly evolving into his carbon copy. 

I don't want to be him. I can't allow myself to be when I have worked so hard to escape the grips of his ignorance. He throws me straight back in every time he asks for a favour. I know instantly that it is going to end in my arrest or hospitalisation. I need to get away from it, yet I feel instantly gulty when I say no.

I get nervous when I am with people that I know are on drugs; an indescribable need to get away from the situation takes over and I become a total introvert. I exist in my head and can create a total barrier of protection. If I refuse to acknowledge the 'threat' it can't harm me.

I am totally willing to help him. I want to help him fix his life. I wish I could instantly take things and make them better for him. I would give him whatever he wanted if I could guarantee he wouldn't throw it back in my face again within seconds. I would fight his fights, I would listen to his woes and I would break his habit if I could. I would give him the air from my lungs if I thought I could have him back.

He is a stranger to me. I love him more than anything but I dislike him just as strongly. I cannot confide in him like I once could. I fear his reaction to my life, keeping even the simplest and most inconsequential details to myself because I know that within one minute he will degrade it and make me feel like my excitement is fruitless. I know he is wrong yet I fear his disapproval about all aspects of my life. 

I hate that I have to whine in a fucking blog because she refuses to believe he is an ass. Her blindness to his bullshit tears me apart and every single time I do something I get judged against what he has done. His actions always seem to please her more. I can't seem to just let it go though.

Sibling rivalry?

It can't be, because he isn't my brother.

Apparently my brother got ground down and snorted.

I want my brother back. 

Peanut

Tucked away in a small dark room, candlelight flickering seductively against the sweaty walls, he sips his drink in complete solitude. Voices of strangers cloud around him in order to orchestrate a cacophony of hysteria. Excitable nonsense of vital importance – to someone. He didn’t mind the noise so much as the people creating it; arrogant suits of sheer ignorance. People really just didn’t understand. They really don’t want to he supposed. His mind drifted quickly to a wildlife show he had been watching recently; alpha males and the hierarchy of packs. It seemed fitting.

Peering into the depths of the glass in front of him, swirling the dark liquid slowly, he sighed. Thoughts permeated the thick layer of silence he had built and it wound him up. Every second in which he sat still a war of words took place within his mind. The decision he faced in his every day life began to creep up on him slyly, making him nervous and leaving him in a state of depression which he couldn’t quite lift. Draining the glass of its final mouthful, he stood quickly and brought the glass down upon the skull of the loudest man he could hear with enough force to render the man unconscious.

“It is simply fucking unnatural”, he bellowed quite obtrusively.

He held himself with the vigour of a man that believed quite stubbornly that his opinions were always right. His party of four other men were quite sheepish in comparison. They had a tendency to nod meekly and sit on the fence when asked about anything which may be even a little controversial.

“Sex just shouldn’t be had between two people of the same gender.”

They all laughed heartily, ignoring the looks of everyone sitting within earshot. The quiet man two stools down looked like he had been kicked in the balls. The torturing look on his face was enough to make them all a little wary of him.

“I mean I am a red blooded male, don’t get me wrong,” he continued, “two men fucking turns my stomach- two women on the other hand..”

The shards of glass rained down ferociously. His large, limp body hit the floor with enough force to shake the bar stools the length of the room. Gasps of timid horror went up amongst the small grouping of men, their childlike apprehension at the subject suddenly becoming more apparent as none of them had the courage or the stupidity to protest.

She idly fingered the ring of water which had collected in the space where her glass had been. Her eyes roamed the room, falling upon the group of men laughing raucously. She couldn’t quite figure out why she didn’t like them. Their sharp suits and handsome features should, really, have been reasons to be attracted to them. However, the nervous looks on the quieter faces and the arrogant way in which the louder man held himself made her suspicious of them.

Slowly drinking her water, she looked at the silent, lonely man a few stools along. He looked sad, deep in thought at things unknown. She was curious, she wanted to believe he was a kind hearted man; his eyes lowered just enough to hide any sort of clue within them. She couldn’t help but want to sit with him, even if it were to be in silence.

Looking back at her watch, she became frustrated. She was late again. She always does this, she thought absent-mindedly as the irritation within her grew stronger. She really should have known she would turn up to meet her with empty apologies, bottomless excuses and breathless promises for their next meeting. Smiling suddenly, the irritation subsiding a little, at least the sex tonight would be fantastic; angry and apologetic – her favourite kind.

As the smash cut through the air, she was ripped violently from her little fantasy. The gorilla in the suit was on the floor, passed out seemingly. The quiet man was on his feet, seething, blood trickling slowly from his closed fist slowly, incredibly slowly, rolling down his arm.

“Didn’t see that one coming,” she laughed softly to herself.

Just as she was about to give up, she tumbled into the room.

“Hey peanut. I am so sorry I am late.”

“It’s okay, baby. Let’s get out of here.”

I never wanted to dance

Another old one that I decided I would put up...

I never wanted to dance

I don’t believe in fairytales

Things don’t go

Happily ever after

For me

I never wanted to whisked away

Carried off in strong arms;

Arms which will shelter me,

Protect,

Love,

Support,

Me throughout life.

I never wanted to cry -

[Joy]      filled     tears

Streaming

lines

down

my

face

Mapping stories of perfection.

 

When perfection comes

Life acts

What you want is taken

Abruptly

Cruelly

Predictably

Leaving you with empty hopes

Turning your wanted life

Into a cadaver of stinging disappointment.

 

I never wanted to dance

For to dance

I would have to believe in the

music

And to believe in the music I need to

Lose all inhibitions

All memories

All scars.

Raindrops slicing new wounds

Blades sliding

Ripping

Bleeding

Warning me

I can’t cry

For if I start I fear I will never stop

I will continue through sleep

I can’t

Believe.

I can’t pretend

That all things will come good

That this is just a glitch

A momentary misjudgement of my emotions.

 

I never wanted to dance

I am not that girl.