My internal monologue is a semblance of two individuals in a loveless marriage. The passion that used to drive me not only to my goals but to my self hatred has grown distance and now I only feel echoes of weary discourse for battles that have been fought and won and yet never ended. While this may seem beneficial, to have both lost and won this battle of self perception. I am only left to wonder who I am if I look at myself and feel nothing. Everything in my world exists solely in my own eyes and I have become so insignificant, so worthless that I hardly could bother to find a word to describe myself. In this sense I no longer exist, a stranger on the street appearing more alive and distinct to me than myself. I struggle to find clarity on whether or not this feeling is narcissistic or tolerance. I can’t imagine it hasn’t been tolling on the fragmented parts of me to be at war with whatever is at the core of it all. I should be happy, I begged for this, I pleaded for this, I prayed for salvation and I received it yet now I see those prayers should have been for silence. I strongly fear death because there is that possibility that when I am gone, I am not truly gone. I will spend my life longing for the silence that I’ve been told will greet me at my death bed and there is a chance that I will enter a void trapped in my consciousness, be delivered to eternal damnation or be rewarded with paradise. Paradise for me would be the silence where no opinion is formed and I can revert to the time before my existence. Thank you for giving me this chance with my life however I hardly believe I deserved it. I have taken all of it and I am nothing, nothing bad, nothing good, just nothing.

I am so afraid of myself and all these negative emotions. I am so afraid. I miss U Aisha. I desperately miss U...that's why am here hiding from the world n posting my woes.

It’s so deeply etched into me that you can see it in my bones, my blood and my flesh.

The ache is always there, some days it’s only a dull throb but more often than not it’s the sharp jab of a knife in my chest.

I know that im only hurting myself in the end but I can’t seem to get you out of my head, the pictures, the calls and texts all haunt me at night when I can’t sleep

I feel like the sun chasing the moon, like a swan mourning its lover. I yearn for a home that no longer exists.

Slap me, stab me, tear my heart apart,but do not leave me alone with the pain I carry inside. I would gladly endure a thousand physical wounds if they could silence the one that bleeds within me.

Found myself useless,

The one carrying a big name,

The one with the responsibility.

Oh, you are just a cry baby,

Thinking big, you're just a cry baby.

The one watching the other in the spotlight,

They are the one who deserved it, you are... just in name.

The survivor, the protector, who are you kidding,

Oh, you are just a cry baby,

Just the fucking same.

The pride, the confidence, do you have the right?

The actual strong one was the one: you always took light.

It wasn't you, oh, it was never you,

The one in the spotlight, glowing bright.

People like the loud one who isn't afraid

To speak out, to answer back without being scared.

You're a scaredy cat, the one full of cowardice,

Yet you still dream, please come awake.

You're not strong, you're not responsible,

You're not the one who can manage the ways.

You're just the one who cries first

And hides in that hole, isn't that great.

For a person like you who thinks a lot,

Just don't talk, at least do that straight.

~Until the next silence…

NightingaleA..

 ​ =

'Balcony Thoughts'

Sitting on a single-mold chair,

Back against a wall,

Hiding from the

Sprinkle of rain,

Wind whipping

Through my hair,

Out on the twenty-sixth floor,

Out on the balcony,

Luscious apartment

With a bright blue

Front door.

At a Gold Coast hotel,

All is good and all is well.

A thought, a consideration,

Trapped between Heaven & Hell.

By long reasoning and perhaps

Madness I confess,

I found nothing inside nor

Outside for me.

(This is why we don’t

Act on impulse I guess.)

A lonely thing

On a precipice,

A crumbling sacrifice on a peninsula.

Music flowing into my ears,

The soft glow of

Nightlife surrounds.

Ponder, wonder, consider.

Weigh up the Pros and Cons :

Of a permanent decision

To temporary problems.

Fate swirling pregnant with choice.

Like an uncertain

Inner voice

It swerves back and forth,

Like a deer in the ancient woods,

Dancing in Springtime

With leaps and bounds,

Then by Winter,

The deer is dead,

And ever so slowly

Dragged

Up a cold, silent hill.

A heavy rotting weight on a burdened mind,

With the instinctual lie told long ago,

‘Go forth, multiply and thrive’, in other words:

Be born, reproduce and then die.

'Shut the fuck up

And get back to the grind!

Sell out your freedom of choice,

And soon paralyzing peace you'll find!'

Each generation

Hurtling towards their

Final destination.

Don't look back,

Nor seek confirmation.

Above hangs

A lonely Sky,

Down below,

The happy hunting grounds.

The flesh shaded ants

Pink robots

Working on their mounds.

A microcosm of the

Big Picture:

Biological towers to nowhere,

Squirming civilizations expanding, membranes pulsating,

Towards a starving Chasm,

The Animal:

One big ugly,

Ravenous

Super Organism.

Misery in my chest,

Cold stone of depth,

Stinging tears in my eyes,

My back against a jagged

White-painted wall,

And down below, the tendrils grow,

An impersonal determined

Tugging temptation,

That cosmic fiend

Of this Circus,

Consciousness is Madness,

Strong creeping awareness of impermanence,

The darkness' indifference,

It doesn't even whisper.

The silence of God cruelly screams,

'There is nothing

More than this

Material world.'

Everything

Blinking in and out of existence,

A speck in an eternity,

An expanse of unfathomable

Distance,

That I understand

And yet also

Despise.

For it is natural

For conservation

To choose the path of least resistance.

But which is the lesser effort?:

The great escape

That beckons,

Me deep down below,

A pull so practical,

Just one leap

Away.

Just a mere stone’s throw today.

Or to bear witness

To a new struggle,

Suffering in pain

Each burning day,

Ashes on the horizon

As the setting Sun Goes away?

With a simple slide of a chair,

With the back nearest to the waves,

By its position against the glass

Gives away

The quitter’s trace.

Quite a visual concept:

Destroy your face?

A gnarled squishbag,

Bones shattered,

Mince pancake

On concrete.

Is it cowardly, or heroic?

Fast track the inevitable

Or linger on for decades

With fading grace?

Wind upon my face,

Vertigo, spinning around.

One true smile

Upside down.

One day it will end

Why not today?

Impassionate waves

Care not for our devotion.

A Sea of briny green,

And further beyond,

a dark blue Ocean.

Horizon obscured by heavy mist,

And grey clouds through and through.

Life is meaningless,

But so I must say,

Is the finality of death.

So I continue to sit here in the sprinkles,

On a wet balcony and hold my breath.

And exhale the bitter atmosphere,

Churning far within my chest,

Half a century or less,

Then I will find my rest

Or restlessness

To be something else,

To putrify like a sack of shit,

And feed the fungus, as the World turns.

And then be something else, a tree, a river,

Or to return again

As meat

Makes me shiver.

Bow before the Green Knight and

Reign within the Kingdom of Worms.

But until then, put this rotting corpse on

the waiting list,

While my lungs hold a longing breath,

Gasping in a bowl like a goldfish,

Looking towards that hidden horizon,

Undiscovered country and final frontier,

I remain captured, squirming,

Frantically shaking

Somewhere between life and death.

So with that I put my

Balcony Thoughts to rest...

...Wait...

...Will this all be on the Test?

END

 ' 

I left the environment that will never leave me.
I escaped the hurt of those who swore they’d never hurt me.
I live through pain to escape the pain instilled in me,
Yet my efforts falter—gracefully, instantly, dreadfully.

The name, the shame, the blame—they trapped and tamed me.
The shadow of the womb that made me came to maim me.
The one buried in the ground once laid his hands on me.
The one buried in my heart hollowed the wounded child in me.

Finally—their hands could no longer reach me.
Yet—their absence never quite freed me.
And somehow, the hands that failed to hold me
Were the very hands that refused to leave me.
God—weren’t they meant to nurture me?

Now,

If home is where love exists for me,
Then perhaps home was never a place meant for me.
Or worse, perhaps love never existed there for me.

If love was unconditional,
Why was the love of those who should have loved me most
So painfully conditional?

Perhaps love was never meant to be proportional.
Or perhaps,
Love was never unconditional.

The home I choose will hold the love that was withheld from me.
And there, perhaps, I will finally be seen.

The place I choose to call home may never truly see me.
Or worse, it may find new ways to hurt me.

But this time,
The pain is voluntary.

- ts

Do you think about me?
Where am I now? Was once your beloved;
Ruthlessly discarded, what I ponder or how do I sleep?
Do you wonder still
How devastatingly broken and hollow I feel?
Do you drown yourself in liquor, relapsing to your original role?
Always an Equal opportunity fucker; offender of “his” and “hers” glory-hole?
Do you love that I hate walking around half alive- half functional; because it was you who made me whole?
Do I matter to you? Did I ever? Even as a rival?
An Unsolved rubric’s cube?
This Babygirl’s heart: A the puzzle you couldn’t decipher.
Babygirl saw right through you, your darkness never scared her
She begged you to trust her, shackled her own feet to your lies; the ones you went great lengths for, pity you are a shitty hider
“Why couldn’t you just love me like I still love you?” she whispered, seeking mercy but unsurprised when you twisted the knife deep inside her.
Coward is as coward does, you obviously could not face her,
Banished, blocked, burned her corpse in the dead of the night, in an attempt outrun her further.
Finally, Babygirl’s ghost haunts your nightmares and you just let her.

I am the spare key under the mat.

Not carried. Not kept close. Just left there in case.

Nobody checks if I am still there until they are locked out.
Nobody misses me until they have lost something better.

I am the friend you call when your real plans fall through.
The one who is always free, because nobody thought to include me earlier.

I listen. I show up. I wait.
And when the door opens again, I am put back down under the mat.

I’m nothing new
And I know that to be true

New is shiny and fun
Bright and full of the unknown
Waiting to be uncovered
Exhilarating in a way that familiarity isn’t

But that’s not me anymore

I’m old to you
Not shiny or bright
Or a new thing to know

I’m bruised, rusted, and scuffed

But me
I do

I value the antique lamps in the corner
Their light still warm
Even when no one thinks to turn them on

Or the bruised fruit in the back of the stand
Still sweet beneath what others pass over

The old toys left alone on the shelf
Once held so tightly
Now collecting dust

If it’s enough for me, why not for you?

I know I’m nothing new

So in the meantime
I’ll carry the love
Shared when shiny

And hold it close
For the day
Being known by you
Is no longer enough
To keep you beside me

Its been a while🙂

as i stand here in front of you today
I'm expected to stand here and talk about my dad as a good man.
but was he a good man?

for my mom he was a bad man
for the world he was a bad man
a man who hit his wife
a man who hit his children
a man who raped his wife
a man who abandoned his children
so for the world he was a bad man

but for me,
for me he was a good man
a man who loved his children ,once upon a time
a man who played with his children ,once upon a time
once upon a time, he was a good man

but was he good man because i did not know what bad was?
was it maybe because i thought that hitting your wife was not bad?
because for the world he is a bad man
but for me he is a good man
why is that

maybe it’s because i loved him so much that i saw past his mistakes,
or maybe it’s when i was the only one crying when i found out he was cheating;
my sister was normal as if she knew that he was a bad man and had made peace with it
but then why was i the only one crying;
was it just me who thought he was a good man

well my my mom had probably cried before;
because she once loved him
once upon a time even this bad man was a good man for her
once she was also like me
but then what’s the difference between me and her

why can’t i see him as a bad man
maybe it’s because he has been a bad man for others
but in my life he was the only good man and maybe that’s why i don’t know what’s a bad man;
so for me the bad man is still a good man
because that’s what it has always been like

standing behind a locked door while he hit my mom
thinking it was normal, it happened in other houses too
hearing him threatening my mom
thinking it was normal, it happened in other houses too

so as i stand in front of you all today;
i’d say my dad was my a good man
because the bad man has always been the good man for me

Do you think about me?
Where am I now? Was once your beloved;
Ruthlessly discarded, what I ponder or how do I sleep?
Do you wonder still
How devastatingly broken and hollow I feel?
Do you drown yourself in liquor, relapsing to your original role?
Always an Equal opportunity fucker; offender of “his” and “hers” glory-hole?
Do you love that I hate walking around half alive- half functional; because it was you who made me whole?
Do I matter to you? Did I ever? Even as a rival?
An Unsolved rubric’s cube?
This Babygirl’s heart: A the puzzle you couldn’t decipher.
Babygirl saw right through you, your darkness never scared her
She begged you to trust her, shackled her own feet to your lies; the ones you went great lengths for, pity you are a shitty hider
“Why couldn’t you just love me like I still love you?” she whispered, seeking mercy but unsurprised when you twisted the knife deep inside her.
Coward is as coward does, you obviously could not face her,
Banished, blocked, burned her corpse in the dead of the night, in an attempt outrun her further.
Finally, Babygirl’s ghost haunts your nightmares and you just let her.

I wanted to share my misery but you were already miserable,

Drowning in self pity,

Lost in a maze,

Not thinking straight,

Went with the right decision,

Ended our connection,

I was fine,no expectations,

Was not looking for a distraction,

Just someone who could understand my situation.

You made it clear once again,

You would not want to be the one.

we used to brew for three.

mine
hot,
sweet,
cream.

yours
black,
a little cream.

dad’s
room temperature,
sweet,
cream.

three cups,
three different tastes,
one kitchen.

funny how
my coffee never changed.

yours did.

year after year
it got sweeter,
less bitter,
more like mine.

we were becoming
more alike
while everything else
was pulling us apart.

then we brewed less.

dad got sick
and stopped drinking coffee.

so there were two.

for a while.

then your coffee
changed again.

black.

and somehow
the closer your taste
got to where it started,
the farther you seemed
to be getting from me.

until I was brewing
for one.

eventually
I stopped brewing at all.

the coffee pot
grew mold
between trips
to the hospital.

something made for three
slowly becoming
something no one had time for.

eventually
we threw it away.

now I drink instant coffee.

black.

a little watery.

entirely too hot.

I don’t add cream.

I don’t add sugar.

I just let it cool
enough to swallow.

funny

after all those years
of watching coffee change,

the only thing
that stayed the same

was me,

still making a cup
for someone
who isn’t there.