m0mmymay

[m0mmymay]

a body

id like to think of myself as a thesaurus.

a book of many words to describe the comfortability of my soul and mind.

synonymous to love, protection, lust, curiosity, envy, and many others.

the beauty of my mind that you could only find in the center of a star, guitar riff and melody.

in my poetry. the realm of the thoughts i wouldn’t dare to manipulate my tongue.

advantage: synonymous to upper hand, and lead.

something i’ve never had, but always taken of.

your eyes wander beneath my skirt, leaving my mind touch-starved.

craving the attention and being detoxed of recognition.

dreaming of being loved for the oceans that create whirl pools inside of my head, instead of my body that sings with the wind.

my skin gets caught on your metal wires that shred open my aura scattering gold coins on the cold concrete.

my thoughts bleed out as i’m expected to mop them up and scrub the stains on the wet floor.

the bleach burns the cuts on my finger tips that appear each and every time difference decides to deceive me.

a sinister smile that’s masked by beauty, whispers dirty thoughts into my ears that causes my mind to beat to the same rhythm inside of my chest.

yes i’m willing but i want to know why you.

i’ve always hated liars, as they taunt me inside of my bed sheets, and pull on my hair, spitting in my mouth, and contorting my vulnerability into something so vigorously magical.

are you focused on how i feel? or are you focused on how i feel ?

how i appear underneath you? or how my brain lurks around your lips.

she begs to be kissed and called alluring, while she stalks the conversation you have with my flesh.

she can’t help but desire to be enchanted by your words, your smiles, and your eyes.

i’ve always wondered if i’m being looked at for the reason people buy fashion magazines, or the reason people read the newspaper.

call me selfish, but i don’t want one, i want both.

savor me for my mind and face.

kiss my thoughts and hold her the way you hold my hand.

taste my innovation the way you taste my teeth.

i’m more than a body.

[m0mmymay]

the poem that will never make sense.

i woke up one day pinching the corners of my mattress.

i pulled the string up from the fabric and used it to choke the truth from my lungs.

i sat there until my eyes rolled back and hit the headboard while the room went dark.

i woke up with bells attached to my ear drums, mouth sewn shut.

hear and speak no evil, yet i can still see you.

it rots out of my skin while the smell seduces the mirror to dance with the scars of my past.

the guitar strings i strum are starting to leave blisters on my fingertips. i only learned so i could play your favorite song. the melody caused mold to grow from my ceiling, and i only grew sick each time i continued to play.

drunk from tasting the night sky, i trip down the stairs, and fall into your knees, where i’m told to sleep once more.

but to close my eyes is to lay flat on a bed of nails, forcefully sinking your body into its cold, rusty embrace. folding my mind to get it to stop running. tying bricks to her ankles.

i wake up to bugs crawling underneath my cuticles, and saw dust spilling from my eyes. i’m eaten alive by darkness’s agony, and left to wither like the roses i forgot to water yesterday morning.

death pulls at my hair, tying it into a noose she’ll use to hang my soul, and i’ll go back to the hollowness that held my heart captive for so long, i forgot it’s rhythm.

serenity knocks at my bedroom door, i pretend i’m not home because i’m cheating on him with chaos.

i just wanted to exorcise my boredom. for he has haunted me my entire life. i fought to breathe so i wouldn’t have to.

overall, i’m told this is just a dream, so i tossed out all of my blankets.

[m0mmymay]

writing poetry while seducing a sociopath

the lace warped around my body slowly becomes undone while ink floods from my mouth spilling out edge and un-carefulness.

breathing.

you blow out the candles in my mind and replace them with cameras that flash through my eyes attempting to blind me from a game i know too well.

darting eyes.

you’ve met your match, and i’ll light it for you if you say please. so effortlessly giving up your control to feel something other than the sandpaper that scrapes against your cerebrum, echoing the trauma that shorted out the switch to your emotions.

you’re getting closer.

i just so happen to be an electrician. the wires i pull without you watching while you breathe down my neck, “why does she get me?”

are you nervous?

i’ve always enjoyed playing the role of a mirror, giving the victim this opportunity to shatter his past. seeing the world absent of the muted colors that have turned to mud puddles inside of your mind.

beg me.

it’s not about “don’t fall in love with him” i will fall in love with you, but you will fall harder.

you’re so beautiful.

secrecy is sexy, it’s something i’ve always been attracted to, the chase to know all. to memorize the patterns of the cracks in every corner of your bedroom. to steal the recipe of what makes your lips taste so good.

shhh.

whether it be the cold metal of a barrel gliding against my skin, with your finger over my mouth, motioning me to stay quiet, while your eyes analyze my soul, or your hands as the best accessory on my neck, grinning as you steal it.

i’m yours.

chipped paint is golden, like the smile in your eyes as you think you’ve won. or the smile in mine as i think i’ve conquered the fabrication of your entire existence.

yes.

imperfections become my infatuation and obsession. it’s the rawest art form. could you blame me for this attraction.

[m0mmymay]

my broken poem (and i know)

and i know i’m not enough for you.

and i know i can’t breathe without my skin touching your arms or your finger tips.

and i know i can’t see without your mind as my peripheral vision.

it was great to sleep through your soul and into your universe.

futuristically, you’ll reap what you sow, as i sew your heart into my palms.

and you know my veins pumped gasoline whereas i trusted you not to start this fire.

this isn’t a story or a structured literature piece.

all that’s left of me is black soot you use to draw on your eyeliner.

you wear me to enhance what was already there, and when you’ve had enough of me, you wipe me away.

only to come back and take more of me each and every time.

and i know that you’ll never pay attention to the shadows that grow through the cracks of your “well-built” world.

as least not until the sky turns grey, and the rain burns your skin.

and i know it’ll never match the scars i bear on my body.

but sometimes i hope it hurts just as much.

and i know i was a pawn you were willing to sacrifice to win this game.

it just wasn’t a game to me.

i learned my lesson that expression to you translated to poison.

so i punctured my own chest.

and out spilled the truth onto my mirror.

reminding me of how ugly love is.

and here lies another scar of your lie. you never wanted me. you just didn’t want to be alone.

[m0mmymay]

huayuan

i slash the throat of the woman in my reflection as her blood soaks my hair, and as i taste her in the corners of my lips.

removing her torn clothes from my body, i meet with my soul in their garden.

within every step, as the grass brushes against my inner thighs, my heart races.

i feel the wind rap around my neck, before they trace my spine, and give me a smaller push forward.

surrounded by the plants watered by the tears in my eyes, my soul offers her left hand, and guides mine to her chest, while i hold a knife in my right.

concealed of course, but it whispers my name every so gradually.

transforming into this new equipped version of myself, i never knew what it was like to breathe and have life flush my cheeks red.

my eyes lighting up like the solar flares from the sun i hold center in your galaxy.

so you can continue to grow your favorite fruits, and flowers, maybe even poison.

letting it rain once in a while, so that nourishment can grow vines from your eyelashes, and build a ladder for me to reach the desire that keeps you up in the middle of the night.

it is why i quickly turn away whenever i’m caught staring,

or why i look down into my lap where my world peels away into a sea of thoughts subsided by postponed actions.

i meet with my soul to discuss our next move.

do i step forward, or do i not?

do i lean away, or into your symphony of venom. whereas consequence has started to fear me, rather than i fear it, yes i do move forward.

the walls of my brain become a chess board, as i await for the king to sacrifice his queen into the battlefield.

and the king has never known someone so reckless.

wounded, she lies in the meadow of the garden, and as the soil heals her, giving her the strength to stop a war, she allows herself to melt away from the games embedded in her mind, and her vision clears.

for the first time.

no rose colored lens,

no false prophecies,

only an envisioned reality slowly coming to life. with a knife still in her hand, ready to defend the gates of the meadow, she is guided to let go, and finally view peace for what it is, was, and will be.

but of course, only after delivering the head of fear to her king.

she only asks that you look at its symbolism, as a beg or plea, to please not let go.

as the demon of fear is unable to be chained, he tangles herself around her aura. too stubborn to speak, she bore it so they don’t have to. and will continue to do so.

[m0mmymay]

red gem

as your words once were, reiterated, you bind my nerves to your soul and body.

and there i lie, incapable of any thought that isn’t dressed with your name.

the red gems behind your eyes manipulate my iris’s to carve out the equations surrounding your aura.

it causes my mind to dance in a rhythm only you know the beats to, and my hair to ripple the sound of strings in warm wind.

i desire to be the light that the moon reflects off of your glowing skin, to be a part of the beauty that seduces my heart onto it’s knees.

desiring to be the spider that creeps in the corners of your ceiling, watching you sing the melodies to your favorite songs, webbing out each note & cord.

to be the art you present on a canvas, or to be placed in your dome, right next to the gears sparking your creativity.

to whisper in your handwriting, or to be the pen you hold almost as tight as i were to dream you would hold me.

to consume all of me, like a glass of rosé and feel your cheeks flush as the cup empties into the pit of your realm.

or the red gems i watch you gradually place on the universe’s golden canvas.

i’d want to be the secret you’d edge yourself to never tell, because it splices wires in your chest, and casts the grin of genuinely, nothing but trouble upon your lips.

not because we like secrets, but because we like the way they make us feel.

swimming in a sea of the stars lingering in your mind, knowing eventually, i’d have to breathe, but fixating on the peace we feel below the surface.

carving our initials into trees, while the forest leaves trace lullabies in our ears.

painting the sky with your eyelashes, reflecting prisms that distort our world into ideal vision and perception.

these equations flood my mind and keep me up at night, but i’ll find the right one, eventually.

it’s why i recycle phrases in my poetry dedicated to you, or why a fraction of blue prints have taken up space inside of my brain.

how’d i do this time?

[m0mmymay]

it

in a dream where time has stopped, i am able to breathe for the first time.

the weight on my chest has been lifted by an angel wrapped in golden chains and gagged with barb wire.

the blood from her mouth drips onto my cheek, turning them into tears that leave cigarette burns in my skin.

scarred with my past, i sit up and look into the realm around me for answers , my body still lurks for peace.

with bruised knuckles , wrists , now bandaged with my old poems, keeping me from spilling too much. i fear you.

ripping open the stitches on my lips, i try to speak through the pain.

i wish pulling the trigger was just as easy as holding the gun to my head, not having to fantasize asking the random man in the cemetery to pull it for me.

he knows i’m already dead, he’s just never seen a ghost.

that is what i am.

i sit in a room filled with distrustful faces, that laugh and choke on my every step.

i just wish they didn’t all look like you.

my feelings don’t hurt as much as the knife in my throat, it has only taught me the suffering that comes with authenticity and self expression.

so i’ve been burdened with the silence of my words, yet the chaos of my emotions.

my eyes sting trying to keep them open, but unfortunately, i can’t help but gaze at the demon who stole my soul, and pawned it for ego-satisfaction.

every day the world in my vision loses its color. i kiss the gravel good morning, as it’s stories are no different from the ones on my arms.

sobriety feels like a chore, but i’m broke. so you could only imagine what it feels to stay up a little too late.

but in this dream that disappears.

it’s just the way life goes.

we just die before we get the chance to live.

only if you’re willing that is.

i just wish it didn’t hurt me so much.

[m0mmymay]

record

i wish i could learn to run from fear instead of falling in love with the way it’s hands wrapped around my waist.

i wish i could learn to defy death instead of obsessing over the way it traces my collar bones.

i could stand in silence while what’s left of my brain seeps out through my ears, trickling down my dry skin, malnourished from life itself.

i’ll watch while my organs turn blue, and the river turn brown, as we both flow into an after that doesn’t exist.

polluted by nothing other than the desire to be the one who changes your mind, i’m well aware of how the story goes.

much like pulling both ends of a rope until it finally snaps, falling down into the earth, bruising my spine each and every time.

continuing to get up, retying it into a noose, and trusting you not to place it over my neck.

you’d think i’d learn my lesson the first time, but infatuation is lethal, similar to your touch.

praying the high would finally be enough to kill me, and repeatedly being graced by the universe’s infamous “i told you so.”

i lie here in a pit of ash , after scorching your enemies and using the black remain as eyeshadow, as i question if it’s my appearance.

maybe the mirror lies to me, or maybe she’s the ugly truth.

what i do know is my scars represent the painful shards of reality, that pierce my heart and cause it to leak from my eye sockets, smudging the ink on the same poem i’ve written and re-written over 14 times.

but as long as there’s trees, there is paper, in which every last piece dedicated to the love letters that withhold the secrets deep enough to turn my intestines into origami.

[m0mmymay]

Yin Unhinged

yin killed yang because she knew without the moon, ruled chaos. and god, did she love chaos.

though, the only thing she loved more than chaos, was you.

her peace of mind and sweet escape. you.

how your voice uttered “princess” making her eyes float out of her head.

she would never dare tell you the truth about the way she felt, but it reigned in her mind every second of every day.

your named echoed in her ears before she fell asleep, coddling her dreams, as they played on repeat in a realm of silence.

and frightened i ask, do you see me?

scared to wake the neighbors as she screams at her walls to let her think, she collapses onto her red stained carpet, smudging her mascara along with the ink on her skin.

locking her mental, and swallowing the key, to prevent her heart from pulling the plug, once again, on what made her human.

i want to love you but i know you can’t love me.

so am i a game? and if so am i fun to play?

her brain much like worn out tires, cause this vehicle to spiral out of reach, and into a ditch.

i don’t know if i should get back up again.

is she just crazy? are we just imagining this?

am i wrong to say that you don’t feel the same?

is she wrong to say that you don’t feel the same?

the mind and soul crumbles like stale bread, leaving it to be savaged by the inescapable fate of heart break, and misery.

but god… do i love chaos.

[m0mmymay]

i play a game.

i play a game in which i wrap my hands around my waist as i try to touch my finger tips.

i play a game where i let your blade strike my neck , and pour out onto the white carpet as what is left of me is absorbed by something so simple as polyester.

i play a game where i stay up every night and watch how black the shadows underneath my eyes grow, until nothing is seen but darkness.

in a quiet room.

so quiet i can hear my diaphragm expand , much like the curiosity inside of my head that grows because -

why can’t i believe you care?

a drum of heart beats and heavy breathing.

i play a game with my pen as my lips permanently bleed the symphonies behind every poem you manifest

i play a game where i stare at my ceiling and wait for you to call , as my skin starts to wrinkle , much like the wither of the flowers you never bought me.

as the palpitation grows louder , my emotions try to keep up with the tempo.

sometimes they’re too fast , sometimes they’re too slow.

i play a game where i swallow pink pride , and watch the stars above in my room , as my eyes start to form tunnels , and my soul starts to speak.

the song is nearly finished , i can hear the bass start to fade , but my mind is still singing loud, only shortly stopping to ask me to “play it one more time.”

tired of hearing the same melody for almost 2 decades, i turn my cheek and imagine you holding it one last time.

i play a game in which i wake up on a metal bed, stuffed with saw dust and pale skin, minimalist makeup.

a dress i didn’t choose, and the eulogy i didn’t write.

being told the game is finished, but continuing to play i-spy in your paintings , in your stories , in your memories , in your dreams , begging for you to find me.

[m0mmymay]

ghost writer

i wrote “no” repeatedly on my wrist to remind myself the cost of giving you a second chance.

i wrote the lyrics to the most painful songs on a sheet of paper that i covered in powder and buried my face on, hoping i could feel the notes shoot up my nose.

i wrote warning signs all over my wall in red ink , and continued to gouge out my eyes & place them in your palms.

see no evil right?

wrong.

i still heard everything.

the voices chipping pieces of my brain and turning my intestines into origami birds, flying into the windshield of an eight-wheeler.

cutting off my left hand and loaning it to the devil, because maybe he could use poetry like mine and manipulate the wind to drift me towards you.

i’ll tattoo a strike every time you hurt me on my back, because i refuse to watch it. but maybe you staying behind ready to stab me, might give you the wake up call you need when you realize there isn’t any space left.

my spine will twitch and crack as my paranoia possesses my body , and locks my mind in a concrete cell to “keep her safe”

from you.

from you.

from you?

my fists bleed as i punch the wall i built, while gravel falls into my red hair, and into my empty eye sockets.

filling my head with sand i’ll pour into bags to stop the tidal waves of your empty promises and false desires from reaching me.

but will it be enough?

because i sure wasn’t.

i never was.

i was this red button in your reality , that you were just edging to push.

and you pushed me.

i fell off the cliff , into a sea of demons, that scratched and bit my flesh, turning me into what i see in my mirror when i wake up every morning.

are you satisfied?

or are the scars on my skin not pink enough for you?

are the bags underneath my eyes not dark enough?

is my heart not hallow enough?

keep poking holes and unscrew my head and watch me pour out in front of you like i’ve done many times before.

use the mop in the closet you refuse to open and wipe up the mess that YOU made.

you don’t feel sorry?

not even when my black wings create the darkest shadows in the corners of your room and taunt your living , breathing , body?

how they creep under your bed when you’re sleeping and whisper my name so you never forget the boulders you threw at my dam?

how you watched the water flood the garden i grew for you drowning the plants and vines that held together my composure?

you watched the exorcism of my own sanity and smiled.

you watched my lifeless body convulse and turn grey as you painted with my blood on the tarp.

is this art to you?

shall i write and take notes as you describe the beauty behind my misery? how it makes your eyes dilate and casts a sinister grin upon your face?

every word you speak is an echo chamber of lies you enjoy telling as they seethe from your teeth.

and i’m over it.

so while you assume i’m beneath the dirt, staring at the top of a wooden box, i’ll carve my name into your floor boards.

so you can walk over me once more. once more until you are afraid for your feet to touch the ground.

and as soon as you learn to fly, i promise , i will be there to drag you back down onto your knees.

and you will pray for the the same forgiveness i painted you canvas after canvas.

but you have drained me and i have ran out of ink.

there’s nothing left to write.

[m0mmymay]

the violet

the violet that grows through the cracks in the wood on your front porch whispers a message that causes the ghosts to crawl out from your ears and release you into the hands of reality.

you’re here now and though you may feel stuck, she will be here to remind you that no matter how large the rocks that suffocate your chest, she can always lift them up so you are able to breathe.

while you sit and pick the skin from your fingertips, she’ll draw on your back your desires & manifestations. all while her eyelashes bat like strings to a violin and her vines wrap around your chest and shoulders, falling into her embrace.

she greets you every morning with a thorn that rest on your pillow , as she gives you every piece of her slowly, to lend you the strength to walk the steep staircase of our earth. enough to make it to the last step, and fly without the fear of falling.

you’ll never forget her smell. how it brought serenity into a room of chaos. and turned the atmosphere of every dream you have, lilac.

she’ll paint your sky using the dye from her petals, and her tongue as the brush. with her bright yellow center, once being home to the sun, has now become yours.

she’ll grab the lightning from a storming sky, and use it as a nightlight to read your favorite stories, as you sink into your mattress, and deliver yourself to the realm in which you wear the crown.

though she knew of power, and may have seemed to be knowledgeable of all things, you taught her to question. question her perception, her reality, her knowledge, because in her eyes you were a test she could not have possibly studied for.

she, being as curious about you, as those are curious about life after death, stays up at night, staring at the moon, begging for answers.

she fills the canvas in her mind with formulas written in the different hues of your brown eyes, deciphering the coding behind them, desperately trying to figure out the beauty behind the fabrication of your mind.

the smartest person in the room can also be the most alone. but she didn’t feel alone when she met you. in which this whole time, she thought she was helping you grow, she had been oblivious to the fact that you had grown her a whole garden.

though it wasn’t the roses, or the lilies, or the mint you grew her that made her feel less alone, it was the way in which you grew them, and your presence, and your words.

you made her feel like she had front row seats to watch the birth of a star, or a galaxy. and as the colors, gas, and dust collided, she peacefully rest on your shoulder, and withered into your lap.

you taped her petals and stem back together, preserving her beauty once more, as she thanked you for saving her life. she wasn’t just this flower that gazed at you from the earth, in fact she had hoped to be your guide. your salvation.

but you were hers.

[m0mmymay]

learning to ride a bike

love is not learning to ride a bike, but to build one and ride it blind into the abyss that is your embrace.

your embrace that consumes me with the way it’d feel to fall in love for the first time over and over again.

and the love you will feel will not be as soft as the padding inside your elbow pads , but as rigid as the gravel that scrapes your knees when you fall down.

in which you can only hope they will dress your wounds the same way you dress your sadness every morning with a smile.

but when it’s over? your painted-on face will crack along with your dreams right before shattering over tile.

you’ll try to pick yourself up, but the shards will stick to your skin. embedding the pain that nothing over the counter could kill.

on somedays , you’ll wish they stuck with you like the scars the glass left in your palms.

on others, you’ll want nothing more than to swallow the bottle of poison they seduced you with the day you met.

but as i ride this bike, and try to open my eyes, i’m greeted with your voice once more. guiding me to which i don’t know where. but somewhere. and somewhere is better than here.

[m0mmymay]

eternal misery

the eternal misery of giving second chances, thirds , fourths , fifths , tenths.

i’ve dreamed to be loved like the poetry behind a diamond ring.

i’ve dreamed to be cherished like that one memory that causes your heart to flatline.

to be worshipped like i worship my mirror.

to be worshipped on the days where the glass of my reflection appears shattered.

eternal misery.

all of these questions on how i would define love-

or what i look for in love , always end with question marks. never periods.

whereas “i miss you” can mean more than “i love you”

where “i hate you” can seem more exciting than the breaths we take underneath my silk black covers.

to be worn like your favorite perfume.

to be as close to your skin as the rain.

eternal misery.

the eternal misery of writing love letters with my own ink that will eventually cause the pages to rot,

but i’ll still wait.

even after being turned into new leather, that you will never like as much as that embroidered sweater you wear with a love story shakespeare could never idealize, sewn into the market’s most expensive fabric.

my tears turn into gasoline that will light with the match to my last sense of hope, and my soul will watch it burn along with everything but my patience.

my heart has been grated , torn , stitched, sliced , diced , and stomped on like i’m my own body’s virus. invasive to where i must be destroyed.

to be loved.

to be nourished.

to be begged for.

all before my body has had enough of me. and shuts me out once more.

where the pages used to be filled with the secrets of the universe behind my iris’s , they become blank withered loose leaf.

tossed into balls cluttered on your desk.

along with the pens i used to write you love songs with.

along with the books i used to read as a child to fall asleep.

eternal misery.

the memories i will always wake up to , playing like cassette tapes over and over in my mind. until it bleeds through my skull, out onto my sheets, creating the image of my lost desire.

for someone to fall in love with me , the way i fall in love with them.

eternal misery.

[m0mmymay]

the garden clock

the fairy with the clock around their neck presents to me the crystal that lie beneath the pond of wonder.

as the water that makes up part of your aura seduces me to float upon the river of patience , my mind creates a melody as the clock ticks.

i will hum in my sleep and wait for you to sing along until my vocal cords feel like sandpaper , smoothing out all of the edges of my personality that begs to shatter the glass of time.

while i dance upon the grass & orchards , i can smell the honey from the sweetness of your words and sugar behind your smile.

the garden clock.

when i fall asleep, i’m taken to a place free from misery and sorrow

and offered the opportunity to fly.

with the clouds being as soft as your skin , the sunlight being as warm as your touch , i finally feel home.

the bushes do not grow thorns , but flowers that whisper the words that would cause my pupils to dilate, and my heart to putter like a hummingbird.

the tick’s echo radiates as my pulse and is the constant reminder of limitation.

but limits don’t scare me anymore.

even breathing the air of the garden for a second, is enough to satisfy me for a lifetime.

your eyes feel similar to a high, whereas staring at them too long may result in obtaining too much of you.

i’m not ready to leave yet.

i wait on the porcelain bench placed next to your favorite plants and roses, as my nails carve into the stone, the anatomy behind every piece i write.

whereas my darkness isn’t so dark anymore , and i can finally make out the language of this garden clock, that waits patiently for me to follow.

when will i ever coincide with time?

running across a lake in order to beat you, when i could swim to the bottom and keep you.

are you the garden or are you time?

the water that trickles down from both corners of my lips as i reach the surface will never be as satisfying as what i dream it would be like to kiss you for the first time.

but i remember anything can happen in this garden.

i swallow the garden clock while the shards penetrate my throat , cutting into the black pit where seeds refuse to grow.

as i expel the void from my body, opening up a portal to the astral plane of words and all words regarding love and potential, my lips finally meet yours.

but then i wake up.

[m0mmymay]

my mirror and my bones

staring into my own eyes in the way one would stare at death as i trace my collar bones and fix my posture.

i wrap my cold hands around my sunken waist like gifts placed underneath the tree of broken promises forgiven by materialism.

as the skin on my body turns purple, and i struggle to drink from her fountain, i’m told one more hour. every hour.

my spine, bruised with the satisfaction of my youth, reflecting numbers and trauma all into one symphony, tells the story of my willpower.

while my own mind manipulates my hunger, transforming her into beautification, my mirror and my bones argue over true perception.

is it my body? or is it just my reflection?

the way the light dances off my rotting skin, while the flesh slides off of my bones into one big pile of sabotage and fate of decomposition, i see it as peace.

the deteriorating matter of my past , flushing itself away into the void of my mind. never to be seen again.

something i thought that was once temporary has now been attached to my soul for over a decade, and she only ever consumes more of me every time.

the image of tunnels through my eyes in hopes the gate is unlocked on the other side.

will i ever be satisfied?

will you ever be satisfied.

i realized i wasn’t talking to myself , but the demon who leaves sticks of gum underneath my pillowcase every night, as a reminder of what waits for me if i just do as she says.

i run in circles around my house to burn off something as tiny as 20.

one for each time i wish i could just quit and be content with my own being.

but you’re so close?

10 more.

5 more.

20 more.

i lie in my casket as my body turns to dust , in which my aura will snort to feel the high of the success behind the death of my own humanity.

the needles in my eyes don’t hurt anymore and the thorns in my hair have grown flowers.

all until i take one more look.

my mirror and my bones.

cracked and stained with agony and over-endured with pain and demolition.

you’ll ask yourself what have you done.

but it won’t stop your mind from finding its winner.

your mirror. or your bones.

[m0mmymay]

do you watch me? i watch you.