Something inside of me is broken.
Some piece of the machine has cracked, the gears in my mind have come to a stop, rust has begun to collect.
Some days it feels like I might be dying, or that I may already be  dead.
A numbness creeps into the spaces between my fingers and toes, spreading slowly up my arms and legs, wrapping itself around my middle like a snake, squeezing the life out of my lungs, the last of my air pushed out from between my quivering lips trying to form the words to scream for help.
I used to think that I was strong, powerful, mighty, but I’ve come crashing down in a ruin that would put Rome to shame.
The pieces of who I thought I wanted to be have collected around my feet, crumbling so severely that they blend in with the dirt beneath me.
I have been left naked, without any sense of self, afraid to look down and see what scars people may have carved into my two-toned frame.
I’ve tried to be so many people recently that I’m not sure I could pick my own mind out of a crowd.
My thoughts revolve around people and places that I want to reach for, but my heart holds my hands at my sides like a straight jacket, doing all it can to not be torn apart before it has a chance to find a way to pull itself together again.
The blood in my veins has begun to flow red hot and ice cold at the same time, two separate types of burning which should balance out but instead have learned to coexist.
I want to slice open my veins, pour out the two streams, mix them into a lukewarm state of nonexistence, so that maybe I can feel something somewhere in the middle of two extremes.
I am scared.
I feel alone in a crowded room.
I crave attention but shy away from the light.
I like the shadows.
I like the darkness.
Sometimes with a body lying next to me, but oftentimes with only blankets to pull closer.
I like to feel protected but I hate that I haven’t yet figured out how to protect myself.
I haven’t figured out how to give myself over to a person, to trust that they’ll give me back, to learn how to take myself back.
I haven’t figured out how to not be serious.
How not to love with everything.
How not to feel pain when everything is not what I get in return.
I want to learn how to feel any emotion except sad.
To be able to touch my own body and feel more love than in the fingers of someone else, as they trace over the skin I’m still tracing myself.
There is an incomplete self-portrait in my brain that I have been relying on others to finish instead of transforming the mangled pieces with my own hands, letting my fingertips smudge out the harsh lines to become soft.
Soft is how I want to feel.
Soft, like the sand underneath the smooth stones and sharp shells by the ocean.
I want to blend myself into oblivion, until I am nothing more than the idea of a body, until only my mind remains, and I learn that soft is not weak. Soft is powerful. And neither is something to be afraid of.

the elegance of truthful simplicity,
the sweet truths of elegant brevity,
the insides of insight
|||


~
Please Read

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2246391/gratitude/

for it should be the Poem of the Day

(please come to order)


i'm over here BAFFLED
by the righteous
surprise of women
and poorly portrayed
shock of the gents

over the downfall
of men.

have we all been
inhabiting the same
country | culture | school | work |church| family
?

stop being foolish

and stand before the judge.

you teach your children
nothing of
*** | gender | relationships

and then are surprised by the disfunction
and shame coming to light.

we don't educate our children
with facts
so they don't know how their bodies work
and don't understand
the nuance of relationships.

girls should act like ladies
and boys shouldn't cry.

girls, be quiet and never cause a fuss.

boys, grab the world by the *****, it's yours.

and now you gasp
in surprise at the results?
please.

you hide knowledge and
options from girls
then condemn their poverty
condemn their parenting
and now wonder
where it all went wrong?

teach them to never walk alone, anywhere, EVER.
hold your keys in-between your fingers
tear out eyeballs and other *****
if you must.

maybe none of the men know
we are taught this as children?
that our entire lives revolve around
keeping ourselves safe from men.
and it is ALL our responsibility.
no matter what happens or doesn't happen,
it is somehow always a woman's fault.

fed a false narrative of the stranger
when most of the time,
is the known man
that causes the most damage.
that flies lowest under
the radar.
that has power
and influence
and the ability to hide.

but don't provoke the poor boys.
under no circumstances allow
your body to be seen,
but also don't be too covered up
(because then how will you get a man?)
jesus, guys, get with it.

[don't be sensitive]
what's an *** slap here or there by an utter stranger?
what's the big deal when a dear friend
suddenly lunges at you and grabs your **** during a normal conversation?
what's a little verbal harassment, he's old, it was normal then?
a strange call into the office?
a hand up your skirt?
it's just boys being boys.

it's time to stop this.

it's time to stop feigning ignorance.

you are responsible for this.

full stop.

just like i am.

but my silence ends today.
and i will not contribute to
a society or culture
that devalues women
for the sake of the
male ego.

stop acting surprised by men
behaving without integrity.
by criminals
and predators.
and for ****'S SAKE

stop | electing | them