can't pronounce "low" without knowing what writing without words feels like

three girls and a cig walking
beneath expectations, between enemy sheets
under all oppression
above the feeling of feeling free
walking towards dry humps and lumps
of flammable ****
three girls and a cig
three girls with a negative me
the moon screamed as we screamed back at it
the difference between feeling fine and feeling free, native from where we stood
and screamed
the slave, the agony, the animal in me
shouted at the stars and sighed all at once, all us three
we were there & there we breathed
and she's oh-so-thankful for this
even though words could not leave her throat, like the screams she had trouble with before
she said thanks a million times in her heart, in her arms, in her overworked mind-hole
directing all her energy to protect all other signs of companionship in human form
yet still unable to voice her words.

sixth
time
[passing]
doubts
[spreading]
changes
[multiplying, every day a new person rises from the coffin, doesn't realize that she's dead]
now the little girl is no more
because now she knows
about the people below the poppies
about the daisies that contained her friends
and it's heavy
a marble tomb, a coffin, a cage
and it won't open
and you scream and shout and bleed and cry
while mere peasants walk by
"this is art"
"this is natural"
"this is normal"
"this is what happened to us"
excuse me
but the corpse nation would be much more populated if living was this way for everyone
isn't it this way for everyone?
if it is, why am I still a ******?
even though I gave myself up
why
explain
no, don't patronize
I can understand
the words coming out of your rotting excuse for a mouth
if "this" is normal
why do they get to look happy all the time
why are they so carefree
are they actors, actresses?
no?
then explain why I am a fake
explain how you know what feeling normal feels like yet you've never been inside my brain
my brain
it's woken up
and it has questions that no book, no bible, no coran can answer
and there's no relief
help me
the marble walls are pressing in
and I can't find my way out
your question left unanswered
there are no clues inside my cage
and I know
that if I don't fit in this tomb
that if I don't adapt
to whatever I'm suposed to adapt to
I'll asphixiate

seventh
trying out
all my different skins
the detective told me to watch
watch and learn
investigate
choose
become (your favorite)
become the one that will make them laugh
become the things they like
become her
become perfect
and so I was reborn
the renaissance
but unlike the actual renaissance
where the golden age came after the blackest of black plagues
mine was in reverse
the gold had smothered my persona
and I had an alibi
and my persona drowned whilst clutching onto my very core
my feelings and thoughts
the one piece that still belonged to me
[who is me???]
it was gone
but it didn't matter because now I couldn't even think
and no thoughts meant no voices warning me
that that wasn't right
that that wasn't me
that I was as lost as I used to be
so I obliged
I listened to the only voice left
the one that would drift out of other people's ***** souls
and weight us all down
and make us crouch
in an effort not to pass out
but you can't walk forwards whilst
drowning (and crouching)
in fact all you can do is survive

i have become passive

schoolgirl taking notes on other people's feelings
and claiming for the self
another person's soul worth

i am cold
entirely numb, aching by poetry
it's like not even the words that cut and bleed and scream and cry move me anymore


i will forever claim to be
someone i've only dreamt of

           and no more

even as i shrug i can feel it coming down
i see her last breath
the last breath i will see in many others
scarily alive, creepily deceased

i saw in her eyes that now she was truly terrified of dying
she had finally understood what makes people "people"

and i saw in her tears the very feelings i can't seem to express

forever the outsider, taking notes
feelings and patterns of conduct do not apply to me
writing away my blood and giving away my humanity

i won't form a tear, a whimper
i couldn't form a tear, my sister
i can't form a tear, resisted

i am
          useless      
in the face of pain

perhaps my glasses are *****
because they've seen so much dark

the luxurious life of the uninterrupted
the riches of feeling unaware
the knowing nothing will ever go wrong
and the fever of holding in my mouth friendly hair