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unlovenot all self harm comes
in the obvious form of lines up arms or down thighs
of throwing up insides and self worth
into toilet bowls with the sounds
that make you wonder how you're not dead.
she picked at her lips constantly
cracking and splitting
peeling and bleeding
more than expected
and it bled
more than ever anticipated
even after she's been doing it all day
she drank her tea that was still steaming
still made her hands flinch from the
far too hot porceline
but she parted lips
and felt it force it way down
burning and splitting
her lips and throat
like molten in her
ash filled stomach
pulling on skin
making underneath it
her blood like water colour
exploding and spreading
and mixing over
thighs and stomachs
no-one thinks to notice
i wish i could say it rained the day we gave you back to the earth, that even the heavens were crying for you. it didn't though. it was 28 degrees and our black coats of grief were heavy in so many ways. it felt unfair, and i wasn't ready to let you go just yet, if i could have put myself in the wretched box i would have in a heartbeat. the cliches were in full force that day, and i didn't care for a minute. all i knew is the earth, or god, or whoever took you from me better be grateful to have you back.
there was something in my stomach that day, a knot, a twist, something that felt wrong and out of place from the second i opened my eyes
you can't buy happiness, but you can buy tea, and thats kind of the same thing. i've been told that i have a knot inside my chest,
like those of the inside of a tree truck, eternally circling and looping. thats kind of how it feels, heavy and unstoppable.
if i have a tree inside me, then maybe that could explain the shaking, its just the westerly winter winds blowing and
making my far too fragile limbs bend but never break. i soak the tea leaves into the roots that are deep within my
fleshy heart and hope the capillaries will carry to wherever the aches are most ingrained and unnatural.
mother told me thr
NaPoWriMo 2012.april 1st
i am green. and red. and giving myself bruises.
you smile, i smile.
[my smile drops]
i think i would like to take flight
and travel far from the worlds depths
trading my arms for wings
becoming a creature of the sky
rather than of the sea or ever of land.
each feeling trailed down his arm
leaking and bleeding like water colour emotions.
just for once to be solid
in at least one aspect
you're giving me feelings in my tummy that i had forgotten.
the oceans aren't quite so scary
and they seem like they're going to carry me
somewhere nice rather th
faultyThere is something wrong with your head.
That's what they'll tell you. They have charts, statistics, big words with even bigger meanings to dissect what's going on inside your brain. They break it down to chemicals. They break it down to traumatic experiences, to overwhelming pressure in school or at work. Somewhere inside of your most powerful organ, they tell you, there is a critical piece missing. When your heart goes bad they cut you up with scissors and build you a new one. Other organs can be repaired or replaced. But your brain?
When your brain goes bad they feed you happy pills and lies. They tell you that some day you might grow ou
fidgety fingers.theres a tangle in the middle of my chest, that is pulling and catching all the remedies
i try and force out from between my quivering lips and out into the cold winter air.
i can see my breath, and thats the only thing of substance or solidity coming from
my fucked up insides.
i thought about dying, and how they would slice me open and find nothing out
of the ordinary and they'd just declare it suicide, or death from overly heavy boots
and never notice the tangle or the oceans or whatever the fuck it is that keeps
me awake with the moon.
that would be incredibly unfair.
they wouldn't find anything inside me to explain my shaking hands or old film grain
vision as the moon seems to be grateful for some late night company.
i tried to drown it, force the high pressured water down my throat and
let it fall over and in the knot and work it undone, but it is double looped
or just stubborn as i am and i just ended up with my head over porcelain
puking up more than just insides
all fell to the groundHe wrote each feeling on the insides of his arms, sinking it into his blood stream. Most days, it would be a list trailing down his arm, each one crossed out with red pen, leading onto the next. On his first day of school the list looked like this.
He liked the way the ink letters would bleed into each other and eventually become illegible, and by that point that's usually how he felt. The red would seep and emphasise the tangle, and it would take a little-too-hot shower to wash it off.
[the stain was still inside him though, and the shower didn't even begi
what burns in the fire just ends up as coals.i hated you because
you could keep quiet
when i couldn't, and the careful
nature you held onto until
the precise & perfect
it was all i could do
not to explode
but i was still fire
and spread slow,
slick & smooth beneath
and i kept my tongue still
firmly in my mouth
not letting anything escape
save for tiny breaths
that i was sure
weren't enough to keep
my lungs satisfied
and the fire spread
until i was wildfire
and my bones were kindling
and you just sat there
while i burned alive.
wondering when you
would ever speak.
stinging.lover asked me about the purple
that curved and stretched along
my legs and thighs
bold and bruised against my skin.
i told him
'they're stretch marks'
he ran his fingers along them
and felt them raised
but some were rough
and still sore to the touch.
but he didn't question.
just kissed them
and told me he loved me.
he doesnt need to know that i tore myself open
over and over trying to find
this feeling and tear it out of me
he doesn't need to know that.
illumine - the story of hannah rose.there was irregularity in her body, something inside her wasn't fitting right with all the other pieces and it left her feeling weak and alone. there was a misconnection with the wires inside her precious head, and she shouted at the air, and threw things at mirrors and wanted to rip her skin off feeling trapped beneath its overwhelming mass, she feared what was beneath it, and never quite understood why the things she imagined were so different to what the numbers told her, they said so much less than she felt, and she simply decided they were lying and she was in fact a monster. she often wondered if everyone else felt this kind of weight p
Untitledthings she's destroyed this year;
two washing machines
from the pockets she fills with rocks
when the rains come and she wants to drown
the corners of all her books from flicking
bending and shaking edges
whenever she thinks of you
you stupid boy
her first car
crumpled in a ravine
and it left a scar on her stomach
that she sometimes can poke
and feel a lump that science can't explain
and she thinks it physical sadness
the entire box of plates
that her mother gave her for moving out
and making it on her own
well, she almost made it
but something about them
being under the ground left
her shaking uncontrollably
and the tears slid underneath fingertips
and she lost the grip
and didn't notice until she'd ran to phone
and left a trail of her insides
along the corridor.
her heart lines
or whatever it is that lets the happiness in
they're sealed shut
tight and all she can do is
at things that don't notice her
whatever it was that connected him
and let the sparks
cheap whisky.instead of exchanging numbers
we exchanged horror stories
and compared our
[yours down your side
mine up my arms]
when i looked at you from a distance
i thought maybe you could
cut me open with
[but you never were
and your eyes were as empty
as the bottles that we
clutched to gain the silver
that traced our bodies
[but the rest of you was full
you said that there was lead in my veins
and you brought it to the boil
and i sat there burning
with bugs being drawn to me
[my destruction was more beautiful
than i ever could be]
i remember you hit me
silence. sometimes, i feel nothing.
starting from the nape of my neck, and not really spreading, more leading, from spot to disconnected spot. sometimes its just my neck, and i can feel it, but i can't and its confusing and i wish that just for once something would make sense, and be simple.
nothing ever is though. not ever.
i touch it, and i can feel the shapes, the round tips of my fingers pinching and poking skin. its dull though, and i feel like if i could see it, the edges would be blurred and the colours would be all wrong. blues and greens where there should be pinks and whites.
it makes sense to me. in my head at least.
lightspeed.no-one wants to hear about my neurosis. no-one wants to hear about how i think i'm losing my mind, and i want to know how it feels to drown, or explode or just stop existing for long enough for someone to notice that maybe i matter a little more than i've been led to believe. i want to stop this constant tight in my chest, and replace it with static nothingness. i want to stop the shaking of all my limbs and feel steady for the first time in my life, to calm the ocean that is raging through my blood vessels. i don't have blood, there is salted water there instead, and the moons phases are controlling it and changing the tides, that are making
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`ChewedKandi has certainly gone out of her way to keep the vector community on the right path. Always making sure that her talents are infinitely scalable, Sharon has put her bezier curves to excellent use, and firmly anchored herself as an inspirational leader. We're absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for June 2013 to `ChewedKandi. Congratulations, Sharon! Read More