i bob up and down around the surface constantly

it's not difficult to slip back down and keep going

the first time this year that it happened was a while ago now

if i'm being specific it was in march

if i'm being specific it was the twelfth of march

i don't want to make this about her again

because it should always be about you

i dropped all the way down through my new normal

to a place i almost didn't recognise

you sort of gripped onto my hand

on the side of the bathtub and up the road

you didn't leave my side for the week

i don't remember it well i think my brain slowed a bit

but i'm grateful for how much you didn't mind

when i couldn't stop crying

we'll be together forever because otherwise

i don't know how i'll exist

for what it's worth

i think you saved my life

more pain

more pain

more painful things

turn into paintings

tears wet

colour discs

on a palette

that were dried out

and crumbling

juice joins

dusty fissures

makes pigment bridges

hydrates bristles

feeds pictures

more pain

‘it’s the colouring that concerns me’

truth be told

more pain

summons rufio

lost boy

art studio

more pain

more pain

a molotov

for the person

that was

more pain

triple x pain

peter pain

cry like a cockerel

fly again

‘it’s not your fault’

when life serves unskippable ads

big sad

pull out a pad

sketch a draft

new neverland map

never doubt the fire

more pain.

The desolate chill numbed my soul

A winter like no other pressed me to the edge

Recoiling in horror at the heart I once knew

A stranger lived in my head

Someone I never knew existed

Pushing me closer and closer to the jagged, icy crevice

Silently stepping off solid ground into the void

Broken wings flailing at the laughing air

As I tumbled through the emptiness

//////////

Swallowing me up

with unthought words

I would have cut my heart out

And traded it for a bit of peace

Barely clinging to myself

Fears, delights, anxious nights

Scratching at the door of my mind

Begging for entrance as I pushed back

Against the frigid winds

That threatened the life I loved

////////

Spring breezes have melted the icicles that gripped me

Softly sweeping away the gray snow that blinded me

Bringing me home to myself

Letting me breathe again

Letting me feel again

Buds on the trees remind me

I survived

I made it though

This Winter of unbearable discontent

So much pressure

In the dark and dank

All alone

Inhaling water

Salty water I can taste

Some little drummer boy

Makes a water torture

Relentless cadence

Rhythm just at me

Pa-rum pum pum pum

Oh, pressure

Peaking

Plateauing

Peaking again

Pa-rum pum pum pum

Stop pushing me!

It's so crowded in here

Even though

All alone

And the hat doesn't fit

A square peg

Out of a round hole

The hat-band stretches

To accommodate me

Tight--hurts my head

Stop the pushing and shoving

Leave me (alone--too late)

Pushing me from behind

But The Outsider is here

Seizes me from above

With salad spoons tight tight tight

Gains purchase of my swollen head

Synchs the asynclitic

And pulls so hard on me

So hard on me Par-um

I'm between worlds

Between Heaven and Hell

In a place for infants called Limbo

The person pushing and the one pulling

Conspire to resettle me

At the end of my rope

My valve is closing

I'm a beast with two heads

Ripped asunder

And thrown center stage

I appear and my heart races

I grimace

I struggle to move

I gasp and

I score!

How soon forgotten

Is the land of dark and saltwater,

The leeching and selfish

From the light and the sound and the cold and the drummer

I seize my own drumsticks: Pa-rum pum pum pum

Icarus is swallowed by the murk of a blue-black ocean,

The sun forgotten.

Light is so far from him, now

That he has forgotten the feeling of its rays.

Oblivion has taken what made him dare to fly that high in the first place.

He only struggles to stay afloat.

He is dragged under again and again,

Sometimes so far down he's sure he will not make it this time.

And he doesn't...

And then he does and he does again.

On the surface, he calls out to a saviour.

To his father.

To the sun.

To god, man or devil.

He would give his life to feel alive again

But all he does is drown.

Endlessly.

For too many years.

He thinks it a punishment, at first.

He thinks he deserves it.

After all, who was he to disobey?

Who was he to want more and reach for a celestial entity, blinded by his curiosity, instead?

But soon, he will learn that the world and the gods and fate are not necessarily vindictive,

Nor are they kind.

It is only a matter of individual perspective.

And that, really, is all it takes.

A shift in perspective.

Icarus goes from fighting and clawing his way through the dark blindly to remaining still..

He becomes one with the waters and learns how freeing it can be to let go for a while.

How little things matter except the things that simply mattered to him.

The water was a mirror to his soul..

Dark, violent, terrifying, beautiful.

All at once.

His body is pulled and prodded but the exhaustion has seeped in so suddenly

That he can't fight with himself any longer

And one day, he is finally left to the surface by the bored, disappointed whirlpool beneath.

Slowly, painstakingly, the young one sows in himself the idea that perhaps the light and saviour was him all along,

Daring to swim ashore and begin anew once more.

Wake up. Roll over.

Fail to recognize an endlessly blue sky.

Linger for a moment or two. Or maybe until another hour passes by.

The gleaming alarm clock reads, "Fifteen minutes to go."

Always fifteen. Always on the go. Always rushing nowhere to be on time

as you wade through the molasses and the cold.

Get up. Brush teeth, wash face, comb hair.

Take daily showers, try to rinse yourself away;

try to get some sense of feeling back into your skin.

But you don't. Because you can't.

Because every day it's getting harder and harder to keep up with the mask.

You haven't been outside in so long. Does it matter?

The air beyond these four walls is just as stale as the one in your chest.

Mechanical motions:

Breathe in, breathe out, eat, sleep, wake up,

brush teeth, wash face, comb hair,

stand in front of the mirror, stretch your face into an unrehearsed smile.

It looks unnatural. It hurts the corners of your lips.

Suddenly, one day, you see Something.

On your balcony there is a potted mint plant.

In the mint plant, there is a caterpillar.

It is...fuzzy? Get closer. It is.

It is black, with reddish tips, a row of petite boot-like feet.

It is...cute?

When was the last time you referred to something as cute?

When was the last time you felt genuinely curious about anything?

A voice in the back of your head says you should leave the caterpillar alone.

But really, how much of a chance does it stand against any kind of bird,

against the pelting rain, against this suffocating molasses?

It is there, all alone, with nowhere else to go. Just like you.

So, you grab a proper container, cut open holes into a lid,

reach into the mint, carefully placing

Bonifacio the Caterpillar into his brand new home.

Bonifacio munches through the leaves with remarkable speed--

Hungry hungry caterpillar, indeed!

You still struggle to pick up the pieces, to take care of yourself,

but it gets easier as you care for something that needs you to keep it alive.

When Bonifacio needs a bigger home, you make him one.

When Bonifacio needs fresh food, you go outside on the hunt for different

caterpillar-approved salads.

And you actually chuckle for the first time in months as he eats a leaf

while sitting peacefully in the nook of your hands.

And suddenly, it stops.

Bonifacio buries himself in the earth.

He is either hibernating

before he morphs into an agreeable tiger moth,

or he is on the other percentage leaning towards 'probably gone.'

You nervously observe for the longest month.

And just as you think, "I should've never interfered.

I should've left well enough alone."

You see him again, from the corner of your eye.

Fuzzy. Pearl-white, tiny black legs,

beautifully-patterned wings.

He flutters and stares.

When he is ready, you release him,

and you finally remember the names

of your gleaming, bright stars,

as you look up

at the sky.

'Twas my first day

I was shy, cute and nervous

Though it wasn't hard to see you from faraway

Fifteen minutes left, but I was still anxious

Finally, the bell chimes

All in the class including you, smiles

My heart hammers within my chest

Only you can put it to rest

All I wanted was to be more than a friend

But all I got was to see your very grisly end

The coward in me couldn't ask you to stay

Perhaps that way, I could've kept death at bay

I thought I was the only one to desire you

But the Grim Reaper had other plans too

Here we are, wearing clothes of ebony

Gazing at your epitaph is more than agony

I could've given you the gardenias you so admired

Perhaps a secret gift to get you all fired

I did not get a chance

To tell you how special you were at first glance

But then the rumors say that you

Had most likely loved me too

My heart hammers within my chest

But even in death, only you can put it to rest

But your love is sufficient

Because lately I feel less reticent

I feel it spreading like poison in my veins

I'm dancing while it rains

Tears of joy and pain

How I would to see you again

But for you I'll be happy

Because I have your love blooming inside me

My chest burning with unspent emotions,

choked my voice;

Unspoken words residing inside me,

rot my mind;

Desperation clogging my heart,

made me dizzy;

But a part of me, broken but still alive,

reminded me, the simple pleasure of

being alive,

Tugging my lips into a bright smile

out of habit, further chipping away

my resolve to end it...My Life...