A Damn Mess

I was licking my wounds
but you stopped me.
You wanted to do it
so I let you.
You licked and sucked till
my wounds became scars.
Then, you cut me again
at the exact same spots.

So, here I am, a damn mess,
studying our synastry chart
for the 50th time,
fiddling with tarot cards,
tiredlessly hoping you’d come back.
I want your tongue and yours alone,
and I know that even if you return,
you would lick me up
so you can cut me again.

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Addictions

Why are you looking to the
devil to set you free?
It only tightens your chains;
is that fact so hard to see?
The devil comes in white,
the devil dresses in pink,
the devil desses in gold,
the devil desses in green.
The devil dresses in several colours;
don’t admire when you ought to flee.

It numbs your pain, and in its absence, it puts you in pain…

Decide Now

Emit a change;
it’s high time.
Come to your senses;
I’m losing mine.
Make up your mind;
I mind.
There’s only so much
that I can take;
wake.

‘No Use’ is Abuse II

She used to miss him more
when they were together
than she does now.
His absence was difficult
to deal with when he was present;
it isn’t now.

Broken

Laughing in pain,
slowly going insane.
Hiding the stain,
praying for rain.
Ignoring the knife,
pleading for a new life.
I’m breathing in death,
desperate for rebirth.

Hurt Water

Pain comes,
pain goes,
but sad memories are permanently injected into you
as you experience these woes;
your hurt-water still flows

Letting Go, Letting Grow II

Everything is in place except your heart;
everything is well except you.
You’re strong,
but your soul is not.
You possess this and that now,
but you don’t have the one thing
you so badly want back,
so, you have nothing.
You’ve lost one thing,
but you feel like you’ve lost everything.

Your red blood is now light grey;
your saliva tastes like sorrow.
Your pain-filled heart is now broken,
and its contents are running through your veins,
mixing with your blood,
harming your soul,
harming your self.

The sharp ends of your heart are pinching you.
You’re too sad to cry,
too sad to groan,
too sad to sleep,
too sad to live.

You’re dying;
you’re experiencing death in life.
You’re letting go of your old self,
and you’re birthing your new self.

He’s never coming back.
She’s never coming back.

It hurts.
“Aaaaargh”, it really hurts.

I am Not a Savage

written-words-4-oil-on-paper-12-e1524982328435.jpg

Pretending not to have a soul
while desperately needing a soulmate.
Proudly stating that one is a savage,
and one does not have a heart,
while constantly feeling one’s heart ache.

Not being vulnerable is
what we consider honourable.

We become honourable,
yet not able,
not able to freely live,
not able to freely love.

We put ourselves in chains
because we don’t want to be slaves,
but by doing so,
we become slaves to ourselves.

It’s okay to address and discuss emotional issues, even if the events that now hurt you happened when you were two years old, and perhaps you tried to talk about it but you were told to shut your mouth. Proper healing is essential for good survival, because you deserve a good life. Even if you have two more weeks to live, do so with true peace in your mind. 

I recently had a conversation with my mum about an event that happened over a decade ago. “Mum, when I was like five, you flogged me for this and that reason, but this was what happened, if you’re ready to listen.” She did, and she apologized. Look, I am not a ‘savage’. I was hurting, and she needed to know, so that we could be true friends.

The thing about not addressing issues is, you might not just hurt yourself, you might hurt the people who love you, the people you love/will love in the future, consciously or unconsciously, in a bid to not get hurt again. Sometimes, you’ll get defensive when you don’t need to be.

Also, if you think you are going to hurt people by discussing the reason why you’re hurt then it’s necessary that you do so. “Dad, when I was three, this and this happened and you didn’t listen.” When you ‘destroy’ old structures built on lies, you’ll be surprised that they can be ‘rebuilt’ in 3 minutes when the foundation is placed on the truth. Maybe those old structures don’t even need to be rebuilt; maybe they need to be replaced with trees that give lots and lots of oxygen.

My point is, help yourself, or let someone else help you, if you’re hurting.

Give yourself closure.

First Aiders for Broken Hearts

Wind-Song

“Wingsong” by Michael Escoffery

No one can touch
a broken heart like a writer.
Even doctors are not skilled enough
in matters of the heart like that.

The writer drills the love-hole in
the reader’s heart further with their pen,
which may or may not be painful,
removing the rest of the waste
that was left behind,
or that the reader had tried to fill
the empty space in it with.

Then they may fill the hole up with words,
promises of a love that would be easier and sweet.
That is the most the writer can do,
for no one else can completely heal
the injured heart except the one
that the reader truly loves.
Else, their heart may never be fully healed,
and they may hurt themself and others.

If the reader does not dig the writer’s words out,
and they try their best to trust again,
they may be fine till “the one” comes,
the new one that will give them new love,
for the writer’s first aid keeps the
heart alive till the reader meets
and becomes their own healer.

Transition: For Jean Cora

Women-in-Green-oil-on-paper-12

Michael Escoffery

I didn’t realize that you lived
inside my heart till I lost you,
till I experienced the absence
and emptiness that it brought.
With that feeling of emptiness
came great pain and terrible weakness;
how can it be that I won’t see you again?
Why am I experiencing this great loss?
I play memories of you
over and over in my head,
and my hearts bleeds in tears
before I struggle to pause.