Clean

we dirty ourselves before we can become

happy

we bury ourselves in the ground before we become

alive

crying alone in a room we wonder

dreaming

nightmares clouding present thoughts

walking

backward motion unsteady falling off cliffs

jumping

up toward the sky we look at the stars

loving

sabotaged by our own knives

cutting

breaking through into

darkness

entombing ourselves...

killing ourselves.

we wrote to each other

through the stars

hoping their beauty would

show you how much

I loved you.

But all my words

fell

or were lost in the expanse of darkness

disappearing until

you couldn't see how bright my emotions bled for you.

But then again maybe you did see and just didn't like the shade of red that ran along my thin skin.

Distance was our enemy

and love was our war

but in the end, we lost.

I was glass

strong

clear on my intentions

of finding love

of WANTING love.

You were a rock

flying at me

shoving your emotions straight at me

but it wasn’t love you were flinging

it was

oblivion.

causing me to crack only slightly

before you bounced off me and moved along.

(but what you didn’t know was that the glass, was my last barrier to my heart)

I knew that falling out of love took months

but I suppose this time I was blindsided

clinging to past realities

I am content now but there lingers this pain

the pain that I don't feel the same

because you have changed.

my heart grows weak

unable to withstand all the pushes and the pulls

when you started to play the guitar on my heartstrings instead of your own.

You keep turning on me

and I no longer feel secured and loved by you

only your lingering judgment and your hesitancy.

That's not what growing old together should look like.

We do not grow weak

we grow stronger despite age

I am falling out of love because I can't hold on any longer when you give me nothing to hold on to.

They say that colouration is a collection of dirt, a stain of purity

that the mixed are monsters, a sickly stain of purity

but I refuse

I refuse to believe that your heart holds a darker shade of red when you haven't done anything but breathe the same poisoned air as me.

purity and perfection are invisible standards held to masquerade the impurity spewed

and I refuse to let it fool me from the truth that lies underneath.

I am moving with my body,

but my mind has not quite caught up.

Going to school and digging holes in the air,

getting jobs that shake me with vigour and cause my skin to dance with electricity,

moving out with the ability to stretch my arms out fully without feeling their weight, without touching the sides of my confinement,

and loving someone.

loving you.

I continue to run into the future,

but you hesitate and draw back into the comfort of your corner,

alone.

and so I am left loving you, left loving a wall as you melt further into the concrete until your form is unrecognizable and I can't find you, I can't find the human I love.

Does my running scare you? When I reach out my hand begging you, telling you how much I yearn for your hand to slip into mine with ease,

to kick off together, running together to the unknown,

but you refuse my hand.

So I lower it and go on, walking.

But my mind has not caught up.

It is lost wandering the maze you have trapped it in.

How do I look at you again knowing you have held back your hand and regected my proposal? How do I look you in the eyes and open my mouth when you have glued it shut out of fear of being turned away forever? How do I welcome you back when goodbye lingers on our thoughts?

If the sun were to rise in the west and set in the east,

I find I would want to run with it's uncoordinated direction,

propelling myself into unconventional momentum.

I do not wish to follow the way of the world as it is now,

I do not wish realism, I miss the radical romanticism that possesses my heart and trails into my work.

If snow were to rise in solid formation towards the sky

I would want to rise with it.

I wish to stand tall

not cower

not fall.

These daydreams hold me in lull with the poles

but I continue to feel suspended,

gravitating towards the earth following the right not the left, clockwise not counterclockwise,

and it feels wrong my compass feels off,

heavy,

broken,

the needle bent from pressure,

it seemed I have always felt off.

when I met you it changed,

for once I was being unconventional with you

and I was happy

I felt free

I felt alive

finally floating upwards

chasing those dreams even if they set in the wrong direction.

But I am sedated and the world passes me by in proper directionality

missing the feeling you gave me

missing my daydream

where I could make decisions without doubt

but now

now doubt restrains us

grounds us to reality

switching our thrusting to pulling,

maybe it is just growing old

and making substantial decisions

but I have slowed down

slowed down

and my heart beats ten beats less than before

I am faltering

my compass is wavering

But maybe looking backwards west has always been my problem.

The sun does not rise in the west.

it will not rise no matter how hard I wish the light to bask me

no matter how hard I look into the past

I will not see the future

(it won't give me life just moments).

so I suppose I must look to the east

look up to see the snow fall so that it may rise again in another form,

I've been looking in the wrong direction

the direction that has been crushing my heart

confusing my heart, my compass

and it is time

that we look forward together

to not regret what we have left behind

but rather what will come of us

what will come of how we chose to embrace the constants, the unchangeable.

what will come is up to us

it is up to me

and the direction I shall chose to take.

to the people who tried to shame me,

do you ever wonder if it worked?

because I spend days thinking of all the hurtful things I said

I spend days pondering what I should’ve done

or how I could’ve been better

I spend days counting the days till it will finally be over

to the people who screwed me over

do you wonder if I’m fine

for I create clocks and fixtures in my mind to hold my thoughts hostage to specific times.

I wander through alleyways of these passage-veins that circle and circle throughout my brain

i create cycles of patterns looping round and round so that I will not forget

to those who laughed

to those that left

I am one of you

one who let go of human empathy to stick to the concrete sound of melancholy memories

drifting to haunting taunts

as I screamed at those who were inferior

at those who were crazy

at those who were hurting

at her

at the one person I truly. loved.

to those who punish themselves

who create killing karmas to punish their own actions,

it’s okay.

the truma will soon fade to a less frequent pain

it’s okay.

the world is a terrible place,

but you have a lifetime to improve it

to believe in yourself in others

to hope

to breathe

to live

to those people

to those people who really need to hear it

its okay,

I forgive you.

to be free

to hold my own life

in my own hands

to be free

to release the stagnant possibilities

and embrace the progressing unknown

to be free

to be able to breathe

as my mind unlocks its cages

and my spirit bursts from its cocoon

to be free...

(am i finally free?)