trish-dancegurl

this is what i once was what i once was i have become i have created, one by one with no question as to how it was done or by what or to whom to lay the blame through the snuff of the filter the rungs in the basement the static cling that i cannot evade and the masterful workings of what is cyclic - how the meaning becomes lost with the imbalance what is cryptic - the undissolved solute, and how it settles right to the bottom how we meddled with dates and hard times convinced that this date is not the time, will never be the time, would be hard nonetheless, is fumbled adjustment to the place that is formed in the crook of the arm the core of

i. parts i know your face - i have seen it behind the blue. nathaniel, i remember you. i see my life in pictures with no recollection of how those moments felt. i see my life in cryptic words that i no longer understand. and yes, my life is a sequence of these messengers and lessons. but now i have the presence to present as myself without a sense of sacrifice. nathaniel, i remember you, and what you once meant to me. how my love for you would hold me hostage and your love for me was in name only. your love for me was based in need your love for me was my loss. ii. the whole i know your face and i think i know your name.

i am approaching critical mass i am the critical eyes in the mirror i am critically damaged this is me becoming undone how i breed insanity from familiarity how a stranger captures my trust and i fear betrayal from his known equivalent i am the eyes in the mirror my parted lips warn me to keep my distance i am the eyes in the mirror not knowing what it is i’m seeing - if you are foe or friend, or if i am merely sabotaging myself

secrets the interlude is too much - the hindrance is all this space i cannot spell transcendence nor can i exercise it i cannot rise above the sense that i am just being ridden or taken for a fool. i have been broken so many times, weighed down, lonely and bitten and how the space is not just a cushion your face is just a figment and i may as well be non existent

every single day we duel in silence cross stitch with invisible thread every day the space between us becomes a little more dead a little duller a little shifted our story rambles. and we pick up pieces but we are by no means thorough we only sweep we do not vacuum we wipe, but do not wash we sing, but we don’t talk and when we sense our idle distractions will not be enough we take to our separate rooms we fall asleep we wake up we fall asleep and i fall a little more in love without you.

i am no longer in my skin, i am bursted down, low slung, sing song, soaked with sun. i am this imminent freedom after being held at the crux of the season. i am the thump of the apical pulse, at breakneck hummingbird speed i am gathered yet completely lost and completely content to wander.

i have become so hungry the pit in my stomach is unending my mucous membranes are worse for wear with thirst, they are waiting for a little bit of substance to interact with their cells a little bit of justice for the damage incurred by neglect. somehow i have become this, absolutely starving. sandpaper rough and dry deep but aching and empty.

imagine smelling violence from a mile away no blood or gunpowder - just anger that diffuses from skin imagine having sixth and seventh senses devoted to avoiding anger before it creeps the eyes on your back and sides and knowing when and where the monster sleeps imagine calculating the seconds between the creaks upon the stairs to know exactly when the silence will turn to sonic boom how a man can be an atom bomb whose ground zero was made to warp you how his everlasting sneer could mutate your reflection how his caustic words, though silenced, still manage to tear through dirt how his urn, shin-high at most could still cast a shadow in the

. i heard you lapping from your trough liquid clinking against the bottle with every swig, like cheers to feeling blue and forgetting to the stacks gathering dust in the closet to just remaining in the status quo - cheers to the tears in your mother’s eyes as she watched you sink and morph and you would have me convinced that there was softness in your solitude you were somehow awoken and the morphing was evolution but i heard you lapping from your trough and trying desperately to conceal it i saw you, going days and days without sleep i heard you grew in crooked raised up stained by neglect and you told me you were just a sheep. i

how you have been just a notch in an unending series a tick in the clock, peeping tom forever sleeping. and you will not find me in your search. you will not bind me to this fence between where grass is not green no matter what you’ve sought or sown and where the silver lining’s just plain grey no matter how you sell it and one day i will forgive myself for falling in and for the pitch. you will continue your search and i will continue to be nowhere