poison woven into tissue,
sepsis radiating from the site
where unspoken words putrefy
in anger and hope, toxifying
blood, anxious for salve.
dreams and wishes withering
under reality’s hot sun, lost;
an empty hole in a brick wall
betraying its completion;
absence yearning for touch.
desire unnamed, the chafing
of which tears the hole wider,
fraying thread and loosening
buttons until the entire fabric
compels thorough refashioning.
a deep wound beginning to heal,
some days i wonder if
i'll ever stop sleeping in corners,
my back and sides protected by the walls,
so that i can only be approached
head-on.
heartwrenching, piercing sobs shook his shoulders.
eyes clenched,
snot running down his face,
he heaved out every pain she ever inflicted on him.
insults.
threats.
bruises.
rape.
and i sat there, burning holes into the wall.
i couldn't even find the will to move.
how can i be any better than her when all i do is nothing?
how can he think i am anything worth his time?
I'm just a brick wall
Sitting here proud and strong
But it comes with a price
I'm always alone, no people to lean on me
If I crumble there's no one to repair me
So that day when I crumble
I'll just sit there
More broken than I am
The enemy doesn't stop beating on me
Pounding me, trying to get me to crumble
Sometimes people come and help
But usually they leave before the enemy is done
The enemy slowly beats me, the brick wall, down
And when they finally manage, it's chaos inside
There is nowhere safe to hide
They can only stand and fight
As of the first day,
Cliques are formed,
The bullies and jocks,
Geeks and band nerds,
Slammed into the lockers,
Fearing the halls,
Forced to do the bullies’ homework,
Getting pushed against a wall,
The teasing is constant,
Hatred and enemies result,
The principal wanting to stay out of the way,
Fearful, having been bullied in the past,
When their faces aren’t buried in the books,
They become hesitant,
Indecisive,
Irrelevant,
I see patterns on the walls.
I see them on the floor.
I see them on the ceiling.
I see them on the door.
I don't know why i see these things,
Sometimes they're really scary.
These patterns try to tell me things,
Some things can be quite merry.
I've seen these patterns for a while now,
The doctor said it was fine.
They show me how to write a poem,
But i still don't know how to rhyme.
I'm done.
I'm sooo done.
Expressions flattening.
All for You.
Ah, yes, this is your way.
Your usual way.
Walls building.
Always for You.
You think it's okay with me to just insult me like this?
YES?!
I see.
That's the way it is, then.
No more words.
You. Me.
You. Me.!
Safety breaking.
I'm complacent.
stuck in the same spot.
never growing. never progressing.
cornered.
All of the walls i've built as protection are slowly crumbling,
Like they were never there in the first place.
i scramble to put the pieces of my life back together
but it's no use.
shattered.
everything i thought i knew went up in a cloud of smoke.
now polluting the earth.
my grey cloud is now yours.
call me run through
call me a hoe
call me what you want,
because i know.
i know that i've made mistakes in partners,
and i've started things i couldn't finish,
excuse me, im here and i fall
i stumble at points,
so i've built up a wall.
walls that confine me to me and you.
and i've never been truly happier
here in these walls they've seen the best of me.
The Walls are shedding
They dispose of the lies and tears
The "no's" and the "you can't"s
Everything they've seen
Everything they've been a part of
I wish they could speak up
Because only The Walls know me
They were there for every broken heart
Every time I thought I couldn't go on
I still question even that
The Walls are melting
They can no longer withstand the pain
The pain that I feel everyday
As I struggle to sleep at night
And stay awake during the day
The Walls are gone
Strange hand that appears
held out towards me asking-
"Am I changed so by coming
from under this toilet partition wall?"
I love you has been said before by somebody else.
Someone else could be me or it could be someone else.
I can speak in my own language without having my own voice.
The human animal recognizes her cry as her own and not her.
This is community.
How rooms are occupied and what is left afterwards
is a proper subject for the imagination.
No one will ever know, first hand,
if the scent spread by the lovers remains in the room
after they have walked away. Guessing is easy
but not knowing. We can't be where we aren't.
My thoughts of you do not produce you. I think they do.
How much of my own voice is my own imagination.
How much do I want to love you. How much do I.