Thursday, April 24, 2014

Someone Else's Misery

My left eye's red; my right is hate
one nostril is blocked from too much dying
and the mouth recites no smiling
but convincing everyone how fine
is fine I am how lucky I am from not falling
when they speak to me they forget
their hearts for what's left of mine
is undeserving
I raise my head so right it forsakes precaution
spurting hexagonal wintry colors
and memory plays hide without ever
coming out to seek — my ears listen
to loud misery only to the stench of decay
in my uncaring sweat while in the center
of my throat is a choke full of filth

Have you
always known I will grow unwilling?

Thursday, April 24, 2014, 12:25 – 12:45 AM
2014 April PAD Challenge #7: self-portrait.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Explosion of Fireflies

The only one who reads this (shamefully) only wants to see if I still write of him. I don't. The other is only here to click on my photos. I always knew I have no one. But knowing doesn't make it any easier year after year.

I ran out of life when I started waking to doing nothing, making no use of myself. I wake because the darkest rain splatters on my face from outside my window. I wake knowing I have nothing to live for. The cat jumps in. I feed him. I brush my teeth and wash my face. I feed myself for the only comfort I can get. It's not hunger; it's emptiness. Then I am back in my dim room uttering the only prayer to God asking to die. I think of the kidnapped Nigerian school-girls — are they crying wishing to die too? If I could exchange my life for their wellbeing, I would. Not to feel heroic, but because I have no use of it. Everything's a waste. Just another day of being no one. Making sure I feel miserable alone. Making sure no one talks to me because everyone leaves me eventually. There's always a reason. There's always someone else better. I alone lock myself in faithful singularity — because I don't know any other way to be.

And the first word they say to me is of pity, not even a gram of love. Never devotion. I am not worthy of it. And it pangs my head to feel sorry for myself. But I guess I am prettier sad than nonchalant.

I don't want to be pretty. I want to be a stone.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014, 8:17 AM –
Wednesday, April 23, 2014, 8:09 PM –