slip

As a child voices would sing me to sleep
Barely heard and indistinct, I could never understand the words
Beautiful singing, drifting out of the darkness
I never questioned it
(The whispers of regret and fear, the hissed accusations and charges of guilt. They always sneak through the door just before dawn.)
As a child I would spin until I was too dizzy to stand
Laughing and carefree I'd collapse into the soft grass, or onto a nearby sofa
Laying there waiting to feel normal, so I could do it again
I felt very free
(You've learned ways to come back from the disassociation, but you'll still be stuck in your head for days. When you stumble the ground is hard and cold.)

iris

She feels the fluttering against her palms, against her fingers.
Opens her hands, spreads her arms.
Closes her eyes, turns around.
She's willing to set things free, but can't bear to watch them leave.
Hating herself for holding on so long, but also hating herself for letting go.
Waiting for the sounds of hurried departure, but hoping for the feel of fluttering on her back.

it's a bit uneven

and then I said, "yes, of course. that makes perfect sense", when, in reality, it made nothing of the sort. nothing of the kind. anything but sense, really. in fact, it made so little sense that I had to believe it was the truth. only I couldn't see; a fault in me, and in my eyes. and so I said, "yes, of course, that makes perfect sense". to make sure that none of the nodding heads and certain looks around me would discern that there was something wrong with me and my eyes.

you see, don't you? you see that when I said, "yes, of course. that makes perfect sense", I meant it? that, of course, it had to make sense? something so completely accepted by those nodding heads and certain looks must. it simply could not really be the chaos I was perceiving. and if I said, "yes, of course. that makes perfect sense" enough, then it would make sense. it had to. because, there was only so long that I could pretend to understand it and the increasing number of things connected to it. only so long before the inconsistencies in my words and actions and reactions would be noticed.

I was able to pass by saying, "yes, of course. that makes perfect sense", for many years. and, yes, I believed it. I believed that it made sense, just not to me. this was my failure, my sin. I was, perhaps, damaged. or broken. or, most likely, I just wasn't trying hard enough. but I nodded my head and cast my own certain looks. and repeated my mantra of, "yes, of course. that makes perfect sense". because, it did. it does. just not to me.

no, I no longer say that. there's no point, is there? not when the words won't be believed. if it made sense to me I would never have done as I did, I wouldn't have the scars. and as we now know, if it didn't make sense at the beginning, then it never will.

can I take the knife out now?

sorry for the times I wasn't there
that I wasn't supportive
or seemed like I didn't care
sorry if it seemed like it was always you and never me
that I never knew what to say
or do
or be
sorry that there's even a need to be sorry
that sorry will never be enough

left to do

sometimes
when it's calm
there's an
idea
of nothing
and it burns

and there's
and there's
and
and
and

(hands hands in your head in your head in your head shifting)

I don't think they heard that one

bang bang

still alive.
still, alive.
still... alive....
still. alive.
still/alive
still (alive).

just about

twist it back
say no
pretend it'll matter

a pin prick to each finger, enough to sting, enough to bleed

swallow it back
say yes
pretend it'll matter

a bruise on each arm, enough to ache, enough to show

bite it back
say nothing
pretend it doesn't matter

a scar on each thought, enough to cripple, enough to hide

tendons and such

I thought about cutting my hand open. but I knew the blood would get in the way.
red and slippery and messy and drying sticky.
I wouldn't be able to see what was in my hand because the blood would be there.

*twitch*

slipped on the stairs

useless. it's useless. I'm useless. that's useless. no use.
fix it. can't fix it. can't be fixed.
lost a piece. can't be replaced.
shhh, be quiet.

my plans never work

I made two plans. one involves continuing to try. the other involves stopping. but I still care, so the second plan cannot be put into effect without first taking steps to assure that it impacts other people as little as possible. this makes the plan complicated. the necessary steps would take at least a year, barring no complications. and by performing the necessary steps the plan would be invalidated, for they would be almost the same as the steps needed for the first plan. I'm trying to find a new plan.