Ink Stained Metaphors

Simple words cannot articulate these anything but simple thoughts. SO to understand me put on your thinking caps and pull out your microscope as you dive into my riddles and metaphors that wash out of me in the way black ink spreads and spills from a shattered pen. You can dress it up in ball point, stainless steel, or even be as extra as using a feather pen. You can change the ink to whatever color, and even add a scent or some glitter. But at the end of it all it still flows the same way, chaotic and ruining everything in it’s path once it’s free. Once the tame pin point no longer provides perfect marks when pressed on paper, it proves to be pointless. Uncontrollable. Covering all your notes and markings which you’ve made to solve my metaphors. Wipe up the ink, grab a new piece of paper, and we start again with an inevitability of another mess.

When He Said “How are you?”

“How are you?”

Keep it in and everything will be okay. Just keep it in. Just breathe. Breathe! Just fucking  breathe; you are so incapable of anything, my God! Breathe. Keep it in. Stop shaking. You need to stop shaking. Stop shaking right now. I’m so sorry that I am… shh stop keep it in. Pretend it’s not there. I can’t; this is… stop. Stop breaking down. You don’t matter. You don’t get to break down. You need to be okay. Be okay. Keep it in. Bottle it up. I can’t. You have to. I hate myself. No one cares, now shut up. No thoughts, no feeling, no anything, just be okay. Okay?

“I’m okay. How are you?”

Liquid Love

And like water leaving the pond your presence evaporated from my sight. When I reached into our glass the liquids felt warm. The fill here line no longer being caressed by our fullness. For a part of you has vanished from the eyes and now the line looks of a marking of incomplete. But anyone who knows the laws of matter understands that loss is impossible. And although I cannot see you, you are here. In an almost weightless form you linger within our glass and I feel your slight pressure weighing down on our water to remind me that you’re never leaving me. A slight touch, less than the preferred hold, but always more than non-existence. I wait for you to cool and join me fully again in our glass. As we join together we surpass the fill here line, with more to us than ever before. And anyone who knows of the conservation of matter understands that there is no gain. But instead we learned from our state of beings and grasped onto surroundings to learn, to grow, and to fill passed set expectations. With each separation we come back with more of that is already out in the world waiting for someone to grasp onto. Waiting for someone to learn to understand and form into liquid in a glass. Liquid in our glass which is now cooler and condensed like rain drops that have returned home to their pond.

Romanticized Suicide

I just want to cry in your arms until I fall asleep. Fall asleep in your arms one last time and never wake up. I want you to hold me as my mind finally finds peace. Hold my hand while I pull the trigger. Help me fill my pockets with stones and hold my hand until you can no longer stand in the water. Kiss me on the forehead right before I swallow the pills and hold my body tight until I overdose, until death. Wipe my tears as you look into my eyes and see how hopeless I can be. See how weak I am, how sick I am, how tired I am. Look into my eyes and see what it’s like to be dead inside one’s body.

Type of Man

But then there’s the type of man

When I say I don’t feel well and ask to just stay in today he said “of course” and says he will take care of me. But then there’s that type of man which smiles because they don’t have to spend money for Netflix and chill.

When I say I am cold he wraps me in blankets and holds me close to his chest. But then there’s type of man who ignores you, proceeds to remove your clothes, and says “oh baby don’t worry I will make you feel good”.

When I say I am I tired he lays with me and runs his fingers through my hair until I fall fast asleep. But then there’s the type of man that will kiss you, hold you down, and f*ck you because he’s not tired so “open up for daddy”.

When I tell him my throat hurts he warms up some soup to ease the pain. But then there’s that type of man which will tighten his grip only releasing to shove himself down your throat, because he thinks his magic f*cking jazz will cure all your problems. Who needs medicine when you have a man to f*ck you right?

“Hold still, come on baby I can make you feel good”, as he shoves into you roughly. Your body moves with him involuntarily, while every other part of your being shuts down waiting for it to be over. He holds you down because he doesn’t need to get consent; he is only raping you after all. And really what is rape except a few minutes of his pleasure and you being spread open for his ego to fill you? His male privilege deep inside where it does not belong. His ears trained to hear your “no” and screams as consent, moans, and “yes daddy f*ck me harder”. The type of man raised by our patriarchy, a rapist.

 

Bullet After Bullet

I rest the barrel against my head as my eyes water. My eyes water, but not of distraught or pain. But of hope. A hope of peace and a hope of being settled. A smile forms across my face as my finger clenches against the trigger. A ringing fills my ears as my soul steps out of my body. I look down upon my lifeless body doing nothing more than making a mass, taking up space. The ringing stops. I feel it in my chest. I feel it; it is still here. I drop to my knees as the demons walk out of the shadows. “Oh honey did you really think you could get rid of us that easily” I grab the gun from my dead body and raise it to my head. I pull the trigger and the bullets shoot through me into the wall. Bullet after bullet until the chamber is empty. Laughter fills the room along with my now hopeless sobs. I crawl to my body and lay with it in the pool of blood which has formed. I cradle my dead body in my arms as the torment continues. “You will never escape us” They surround me and I realize I will never be free from this.

A Heavy Cuff

And in that moment my cuff weighed me down. Heavy like my heart. Heavy like his chest, like his arms, like the pressure on his shoulders pushing him downward. And in that moment I wanted to break my chain from him, to relieve this feeling, but the thought of him barring this alone made my body go limp. I could not move as I stared down at my cuff which reminds me of my commitment to this shared weight, to this shared love, and to this shared life. And as I cry and feel pain I remember that love would nothing without knowing pain.

Laying with My Future

And when I laid my ear against his chest, I heard his beating heart. I listened to the sound of my purpose singing back to my silent thoughts. My mind still and quiet in a moment of discovered peace. And as I exhaled I felt no pain, no pleasure, and no anxiety for once. Each time I am with him my mind revels in its sweet serenity, embracing the beat of love filling a never soundless place. I lay with my future in a moment where time and troubles are nothing more than passing thoughts amongst an era of love.

Sex and Self Harm

Careful to wear baggy hoodies and sweatpants to avoid the attention of a man.  Head down, eyes low, and hair covering your face the way society has taught women to behave. Hopefully he doesn’t think you’re pretty. But he does. And when he says so you make sure to be polite and thank him. He smiles and asks for your number and of course you give it to him because……….And when he texts you and asks to come over at 1 am you say yes. You make sure to wear tight revealing clothes so he will think you’re worth……When he kisses you make sure to pretend you really do want more. And when his hands grip you pray that he didn’t feel you flinch. When he removes your clothes you hold your breath because he might actually realize you are there. Then when he tells you to turn over, get on your knees, and come closer you obey. And when he grabs hold of your shoulder to hold you in place you bite your lip to stop it from quivering. Remain silent until he is done with you. Wipe your face quick before he sees. You don’t want him to know you’re there. You don’t want him to see you as more than what you really are… BPD.

“I lost my virginity learning how to hurt myself with someone else’s body. What is assault if it is self inflicted? This illness was built on the same bones of misogyny that taught him it was okay to have sex with my dead body”

Coral More

And baby when…

And baby when the sun dried up the rainforest into a desert I walked amongst the remains thinking of you. When the ocean swallowed the mountains I saw in the waters wanting you. When a black hole devoured the galaxy my body floated in the nothingness hoping for you. And baby when the impossible was done I had you. Now I question, when the rain regrows the forest, the ocean spits out the mountains, the galaxy is freed from the darkness, and I am left will you be mine still.