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.