Sunday, March 9, 2008


The world starts to slow, movements seems arduously long, moments interminably stretched, thoughts sluggish, limbs moving in slow motion, actions swirl around me, a vortex of happenings outside my reach, I'm stuck in half time, unable to concentrate, unable to move. And then the possession begins, the air breathes differently in my lungs, fluid sensations permeate up my skin, eyes go hollow, sight without sight, words swim and drown in my head, sentences hang unheard, comprehension hard, the mind losing touch, my body a shell. Almost possessed, it feels like my breathe becomes another, my mind pollutes with foreign thoughts, as if someone is ripping and crawling through the membrane of my mind, gripping and tearing the edges to crawl its oily, wet form out into being, coming form within me, to become me, draping like mucus, hot and slimed, its force leaching into my subconscious like blood absorbing into soil, filling me, blood mingling into one, breath taken as one.

I become but a conduit to reality, the puppet not holding the strings, my mouth moves, my brain thinks, my limbs act, but not of my accord, I cant stop them, it all seems so far away, and I reach to bring them back but its so far, yet so near, I can see me, I can feel me, but I cant touch me, screaming silent screams from a glass room, no one can hear me, but they all see me.

I watch, feel, see myself think, vivid images, palpably real, willing me to believe. My hands closing over the handle, gripping steel, cold, shocking, welcoming, strength in the power, relief in the feeling. I point the blade, tip pressing against my breast bone and I plunge, deep, feeling so real the blade piercing through skin and heart, cleaving open my chest, sinking deep, freeing, painful and relieving. But this is not real, it seems so teasingly real, I can imagine each sense, every pain, feel the gut of the knife deep in my soul. How much it wants me to move, to go, to do, make this our reality, deeper it sinks into me, flesh becomes one, how easy I can feel the slices on my arm, skin separating for blood to flow, rivulets of warmth, thin, cold blade, cleanly on soft hot skin, the image erotic, stirring me, my blood absorbing into soil, re-joining mother earth, so sensuous, thrilling, how I long to hurt, how I want to be destroyed to feel the orgasm held before me.

Inside the walls I struggle to discern the truth, I know all this to be wrong, the addict tempted by the drug, just once more. I try and breath, struggle, struggle to come out, to see, tears, how it possesses me, fitting uncomfortably into my skin, my discomfort intolerable, I cant take it off, my body burns, my mind parched, throbbing and aching, beating against my skull, swollen with poison, retching. I wish I could burn, scrape the skin of my bones, I writhe, I beat, I cry, make it go away, a child’s cry so tiny in wake of such magnitude.

Like magic, a simple pill, a swallow, a flow of water extinguishing the burn, melting the ache, dulling the shards, so much relief, siphoning the fury, shedding the discomfort, vacant now, but safe. All drained, nothing moving, nothing harming. Still, lost, not sure where thought is, but no matter where it is, I now move in a blank safety, sedated, whole, entirely my own, but dumb, dumb of thought and sound, waiting in void till I truly return, to move and live, again, whole of mind and body in reality.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008


There is a picture hanging in my bedroom, beautifully framed in silver. She sits perched on a rock, back to the world, watching the sun set into the darkening ocean in front of her. You might wonder about the girl in the frame, such an idyllic scene of calm and peace, the magnificence of the world before her. If you look closer you may notice that her shoulders are pulled perhaps a little too tight, her back straight and not relaxed as one would think, her arms and legs protectively close to her body. The sky is darkening and the rays of the sun leaving and I know in her heart, she too is feeling the darkness come in and the light fade.

It starts as a slow freeze, watching icicles form, corners of the heart hardening where it once pulsed softly, like watching each fragment that makes up our skin turn into ice piece by piece, the heart having less and less room to beat within, starting to feel confined and beating stronger and tighter into the space causing a suffocation to rise in the throat and the heart caged and pushing tight against the lungs.

Outside the rain falls, each droplet hanging like a tiny weight on each thread it clings too, the steady accumulation slowly creating a weight that takes hold. The rain a metaphor for the slowness, the weight of water pulling the arms and dragging the feet downwards, each step a monumental effort. One would think it would be easier to let the rain fall, the gentle rain, seeping into every fibre, saturating, the trickle leaking between the ridges and folds of the face, tears from the heavens, winding down the neck in cold rivulets, shivering the soul. Hair matted to the skull, leaking drops off the swollen ends, thick and full, bursting with shards of emotion to disappear into a watery grave.

My soul is so heavy, it cries in futility to be let free, beating fists against its invisible bars, turning in circles, wandering a never ending maze that ends where it begins to begin again, the cold rattling wind of despair whispering through. Hollow, a vacuum deep inside, sucking the life, soundless screams as the chambers empty of light, the dullness reaching and pulling itself up and in, digging into the walls with each effort to climb into the echoing emptiness, an infinite black hole, swirling in its vortex, feeding on every defeat and apathy, growing with each piece of surrender.

Thought is so far away, my own thoughts a mirage, hazy and so far away, my eyes glaze trying to find answer, the clarity. So slow, the synapses firing in slow motion, the sound muffled, decisions fading towards the mirage and I reach but my fingers move slower than time, I can’t make it to the mirage as beautiful as it may be. Underneath me the ground is barren and hard, the weight of water so heavy, each step interminable, every breath a surprise, words escape through lips of their own, surprised I am to hear them and I listen to hear what I say and do. The body its own temple, the Trojan horse, hollow, the shell for the force within, movements on a string governed by no force of my own, puppet to the owner, death-like in motion, encumbered with emptiness, selfish in its space, fierce, a rose covered in thorns, poison leaching the surface, loathe to touch, abhorrent and flinching from any that may try to near, recoiling and repulsing.

Nothing belongs to me but the chained soul, hidden so far and deep, aching and throbbing, buried within the heart, so sad it hurts, it aches, it writhes, she screams and I feel her, I feel her anguish, the despair so loud I want to wring out the unrelenting pressure, feel it molt and melt between my fingers, hot and heavy. My hands are filled with shards of glass, painful to touch, my feet burning from a non existent flame, needles pushing into every nail-bed, my limbs, my skin stretched so tight I fear it may tear, all seeking respite, strung like torture on a rack. Life is slowly receding into that space, the little space left within, my beating soul, with walls closing in, descending with the setting sun into the darkness, like the darkening sea swallowing the sun.

To draw the blade along the taut skin, watching the skin slide open, a trail of blood in the blades wake, at first slow, the astonishment and miracle of spreading flesh and warmth of life. It’s a drug, healing drug, as the pressure oozes from blood, the feeling a horror and fascination, but beautiful, beautiful easing pain. The first cut so tremulous, the release immeasurable, the next is quicker and faster, frenzied almost, wanting to feel more and more, insatiable need to bleed out the ugly, the wetness dripping hot beads of release. The rights and wrong jumbled into one, the salve so sweet, the demons leached, the scars too deep to repair, the thank you from within heartfelt, the regret from outside... so sorry for the wrong, it needed to go, I needed it to go. I slump, spent, finished, the cowardice of the moment ashamed, the reality fresh, nothing left neither inside or out, expunged and tired, now begins the rise from the fall, phoenix from the ashes.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Evil Friend

I sit here trying to squeeze my mind into spilling thoughts, I have them, I feel them, they are a quagmire of hot, bubbling quicksand, every now and then a bubble bursts with a satisfying release of warmth, expelling a ball of pressure, but then the moment is gone as I continue to flail back into the thickening mass. Why is it so hard to bring these thoughts into cohesion?

How do I feel? I am screaming for the answer, what do I want, what makes me happy, who am I, am I shallow, am I selfish, am I smart, who am I? Am I a bad person, a bad mother? Who is judging me, am I judging myself? Where does all the guilt come from, who am I accountable to, why do I feel accountable? I don’t know and I want to know. I want to know whom I love, why I love. I want to know what makes me content, am I happy in the world, then where in the world? Why am I searching? Why can’t I just be?

I’m so plagued with guilt, its like evil seeping into corners of my mind, making me doubt, clouding what decisions are mine and what decisions belong to this being that lives and breathes in my mind. I have this being I house, that I nurture in its darkness. He lives in my mind, comfortable in the darkness and fed by my thoughts, my fears, my guilt, robbing me of what I need, hiding what I need in a sick game of hide and seek in the chemical pathways of my brain. Trapped, in a maze, being given pieces, sometimes a reprieve, but never the answers, never a path out of this captivity, hitting darkness, the occasional shard of light piercing through, the blank walls, the tantalizing delight of the windows cracked momentarily. I’m reaching, I'm reaching, I cant get through the bars, not far enough, not wide enough, I'm not strong enough to rip them from the walls, they’re so strong, they’re always there, closing me in as the light sets, random, at times bringing me light for days, and other times shrouded in gray for weeks.

It’s a love game, a destructive, co dependent relationship, thriving off weakness and fear. I can’t get away from you, I need you, you possess me, I own you, you’re mine, and I am yours forever. You keep me here, wrapping those long thin, bony arms, like reeds twining around a bark, around and around me; I don’t know what its like to not have you. Do I love you, can I live without you? Safety, safety in the dark, in your voice, your familiar voice ringing in my head, cocooning me, helping me know who I am, what my worth is, you love me, you hate me, but you need me, like I need you.

Sometimes you let me go, I get to skip through the streets, pretend I am free, swing my arms, dance in circles, laugh. I think, I really do think it’s me, I am alive, I am making my choices, I feel so empowered, so strong, so smart, so liberated. I swagger, I posture, everyone is watching me, like a child in her first school play, reveling in the audience and the attention, they want to see me, they see me, and they love me. But your jealousy reels me back, you remind me that I belong to you, that what I get is what you give me, I didn’t make any of that, you gave me that, you let me go, a treat, a day out in the park for the good girl, but don’t forget, don’t forget that I belong to you. Because when I do forget you punish me, shackle me into that dark place and whip the notion that I thought I was standing on my own into pieces, tearing into my flesh till I bleed, hating me, I hate me. Crying into the cold floor, feeling the pleasure in the pain of the welts, wanting to be hurt, make me sorry for who I am, for ever doubting, the heat of my blood pooling and dripping off of me makes me feel real, there is a me, its warm, it gives me comfort, I crave that, I want you to hurt me more, I want you, you make me feel alive, you’re the only one who understands me, I want you to hurt me, suffuse me in me, bring out my pleasure in my pain, enveloped, I am enveloped by your hate of me, it makes me safe, you want me, you always want me, you love me when you hurt me. Only you want me, always, anytime, and when I give you my loathing of what I have done, you love me more, nothing matters to me when I surrender to you, because all there is me and you, so why do I fight you?

Because I have seen the lights, I am curious, I am mad, I want you to let me see. I am a big girl- daddy let me go. I don’t want you to not take care of me, will u always be there for me; let me play with my friends. I won’t rebel, ill be good, I will listen. But you’re scared; scared I might love someone more than you, might love me. You don’t want me to love myself, I won’t need you anymore, where would u go, would u die, would u fester and rot in my head, taking me with you in your disease. Taking my nutrients like my children did, killing me with you, leaching me, leaching my blood, and we can die together, forever together.

I feel that cavity you inhabit, I can see the halls, I know where it is, I can feel you walking through, running your hands down the sides of the walls, my walls, I know you’re there. You live in the left side of my brain, you live in my brain, my epicenter. I know the address well, the hallway curves into the back of left eye, traverses through to the back of brain, I see the curve in the hall, rounded, smooth, when you're mad you have your stick, you scrape it on the walls, the walls of my mind, you pierce it, you scream, you scream for me to hear you. I hear you, I always hear you, please stop piercing me, your anger presses into my eye, the pressure, I assuage you with drugs, try and calm you, move you back into your haven, the space within me. Stay calm, please stay calm, why do we live in the oppressive darkness, why are our hallways so small, so dark, there’s never anything there, just a never-ending path, it’s always red, such a morbid brackish red. No wonder we keep moving, live in the external world, beautiful places, beautiful things, we can pretend, pretend that our home is a happy place. I can paint the outside, change our locations, make people like us, see how pretty we are, see how smart we are, isn’t it lovely here, our new home, look what we can do with it, it can change, not like our real home, this home can be fixed, it can be beautiful, it can be light. This place we’re in, all the amazing people, they want to make me happy, and can you believe that, they want us to be happy.

Why do you want me, why does anyone else want me? They think they love me, sometimes I believe them, I do believe them, they love what they see, our pretty home. But they haven’t met you, they don’t know the evil I am, we come together, I am taken, I hate, I hate so much, can they see that hate, the gurgling nastiness that courses through me. I just want to laugh, scream, be hysterical, they don’t love me, they love this figment, this amazing creature, the creature you’ve made, you taunt them with me, lure them in, bring them close, its like the walk in the park, sometimes I believe, believe I can be with someone else, that they love me and know me like you do, but they don’t, they don’t love me like you do, you’re saving me, you show me their weaknesses, how they don’t know what to do with me, they turn away, they can t see, why cant they see, see how much I need, you do, you always do, stroke me, stroke me when they disappoint me, hug me, bring me home, they need to go, why did I trust them, they always fail. Your life is I, no one can be that, be like you can be, I love you even when I hate you, even when I want you to go away, I don’t know who I am without you.

How pretty I am tonight. I have a new dress. I put my make up on, I know people will like me; they’ll want to see me. I am so happy they see me. I look good, so strong and fearless, such an amazing person, don’t they wish they were me. I spun in front of the mirror, who would notice me when I walked in. you didn’t want me to go, I know you didn’t but you didn’t complain, I felt a little sad, but I wanted to feel special. You let me. I'm sad. You know I am sad, I am not really special, its just an act, another act in the play, let the audience clap, but you know, it feels good when they do, even if it ends, I got the adrenaline, I did something, they watched me, they didn’t see the make up, the clothes, the script, I convinced them it was real, I was real and they watched, they applauded, they wanted more, it makes me forget that I am not happy, that its only a stage. I love the stage, but I need to keep it changing and moving, new props, new sounds, locations, I cant disappoint because they wont clap, they’ll get bored, ill leave them, don’t get bored of me, I need you too, I need your applause, but don’t touch me, stay away from my stage, don’t come into my life, you can applaud and pet, but do not hurt me. Ill hurt you. It’s my stage, my house of cards, don’t hurt it, I don’t need you to hold it up, I can do this alone. You might drop my cards, forget the lines, make the applause go away. I hate you. You hurt me.

Look at the beautiful girl, in the beautiful hotel, isn’t she beautiful, isn’t she lucky, don’t you want to be her, look what she has; she has nothing, nothing, nothing. She has nothing. A beautiful girl, a beautiful woman, with nothing inside, I have nothing inside. Its rotten, its spoiled, its broken, everything is broken inside but isn’t she pretty. What happens when I am not pretty?

When I am old and ugly, when the audience finds someone new, all ill have is you. Then you will have me, they won't come for me anymore, they won't look anymore, and they won't care. But you care, ill move into your darkness, we'll take apart our decaying outside, no one wants it anymore, it’ll just be the ugliness, inside and out. The ugliness you love, you’re waiting, waiting till I have nothing but you, and you will own me. You’ll kill me won't you? I'll want you to.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Gilded Cage

Can one feel guilt on top of guilt? Can you be condemned for your actions when all you wanted to do was erase your existence, knowing that your existence causes pain for you and those around you? However even knowing that your own existence causes you pain, and that ending it would bring you peace it brings others pain. What is right and what is wrong? They don’t want you to die, yet are tortured by who you are. Feeling pushed and pulled, there is no right answer, whom are you doing this for, for all the people that want you to try? For the guilt you feel if you don’t try? For the children you don’t want to scar? Why do they want you to try when truly, having you around haunts them, the effort drains them, the responsibility of your existence a burden. Angry with you for your weaknesses, but not proud of you when you make a decision. I made the decision to die, not for anyone but myself. I wanted it, I felt it, but the back lash, the responsibility for these actions, you are now forced to live and deal with them, all that you wanted to get away from, now placed before you, guilted before you, because in the never ending circle you cannot win, cannot win for yourself and for those who love you.

Do they think I’m happy, I wonder to myself. Has anyone asked me whether I am glad I am alive that I didn’t die? Have I asked myself, am I happy I was “saved”? Am I happy in my hamster cage, with my trainers, my pills, my exercise and my guilt? I know the answer, and the answer fails all your tests but mine. Ask me how I feel! I didn’t want to die to hurt you, I wanted to die to take my hurt away, not to ask for help, not to show my needs, not for anything outside of me, I didn’t do it for you, I died for me. And I lived for you. And I am in my cage trying to pass the tests, cheating at the answers because I cant tell you I’m happy I’m alive, you want me to be, but I’m not. I wake up every morning looking for enough to make it through the day, till the sun has gone down so I can sleep. Sleep is my death, my peace, and morning is my punishment, my life.

Even in the act of death, my need to please sabotaged my need to leave. I should have gone quietly but the guilt of not telling you hung on me. Would you feel guilty knowing that you let me die, feel like it was your fault? But if I tell you, and you know and tried to save me, but I still died, does it make it better for you? You feel like you tried, you didn’t fail in trying to save me. How can I feel responsible even in process of ceasing to be? Responsible to how you feel even when I am no longer with you. When does this end? They ask me why I want to escape, run away, be invisible? Because I become an unknown, not beholden to anyone, no one cares, I am nothing to anyone, my life becomes insignificant, and easy to give away. What a fairytale, the modern princess, there is no prince, no frog, no cake, no castle atop a hill, just a gilded cage, some happy pills, your fairy godshrink, and a good heaping of guilt.

Fuck the prince, I suppose that is what I do, fuck the prince and send him away, there aint room in the damn cage, the fairy godshrink is going to turn you into a toad, and I secretly love you but hate you, and trust me, life sucks in the pretty cage. You can’t win, you can be the best fucking prince in the world, and all you’ll get is a fuck, you’ll give me all the treasures in the world, I’ll love you and then kill you. Kill you for having all the feelings I can’t have, kill you because you make me guilty, kill you because you make me feel, kill you because feeling hurts, kill you because that’s all I know what to do. Gilded cage: occupancy: 1

Sunday, July 17, 2005

The Suicide

It was so calm, the moment. I woke that morning detached, almost in my skin but not, lagging behind watching the sensations and motions ahead of me. It seemed like a normal day, normal like all the days had been, a trance of subdued emotions, imagine a flat line on the heart monitor, not dead but never expanding either up or down, interacting with my body but not my mind.

Walking in a bubble, perhaps shrouded by a mist, I was in myself but working within a trance, unfeeling and going through the motions. My morning cup of tea, I sat with my computer and survival routine kicked into gear of its own accord, the body following its rout path of safety and distraction.

Then the anger came crackling through, but the serenity remained on the outside, talking and performing on cue. Normalcy was the backdrop, calmness were the lines. Burning, burning anger that heated in my core and threatened to spill out like bile onto the carpet, staining the stage, rose in me, strangling my heart. I walked out of chaos, eyes blank, and body moving; mouthing words I couldn’t hear to appease the audience.

I needed to be clean, clean to die. It was so calm, like the eye of the storm, I saw with clarity, death. A single directive, one order in my self, I knew the goal, I felt the ripples settle, and I knew without a doubt I was going to a destination. I locked down the hatches of doubt in the shower, naked and crouched in the corner, water washing down my face and body, alleviating the voices with its steady beat on my skin, and under the sheets of water another being came to be, a robot with a single line of code, not human, I couldn’t find me, didn’t want to, I ceded control, and it felt so liberating.

My bedclothes on, I climbed into bed, and working with limbs that did not feel like my own, watching like a spectator in a hushed crowd, I picked up the bottles of pills one by one. It wasn’t me, but it was, and there was no fear, no guilt, nothing, I felt absolutely nothing, flat line, I was in a vacuum of space, nothing existed, just my motion. I took them slowly and surely, still looking on from the stands, wondering how I would die, would I feel it? And as if I was somebody else, like the puppet following the movements of the strings, unconscious of what he would do next, I picked up the phone and said good-bye. Good bye, nothing more, I did it, I am going away, smile, I did it, put the phone down. Wait.

An angry child, why are you here, in my space, don’t enter my reverie. I block you out, you’re not here, I continue to take the pills, hand to mouth, and you don’t exist. I don’t see the tears, I don’t hear my voice of despair, its all an act, and a show for you, take my bow, and the understudy is on. I can’t see you, just the bright shining light at the end, I am making it there, each pill a succession bringing me closer, I can sense, eyes open but closed, the enrapture of being there, and nothing else matters. Keep talking, keep grabbing, keep pulling, I don’t see you, I am waiting for nirvana, I am waiting for the pills to melt into my blood, suck the anger out, seep the warmth of calm through my bones, make me melt away, bring me to relaxation, I want it so much, I am waiting for the eyes to close, for nothing to begin, for the light to take me to darkness.

Never have I felt so absolute in a decision, and though death did not come, the hand on the clock did stop, my world cyclones to a cocoon of unknowingness. Nothing moved, not even a whisper of a wind in the mind, we had shut down, closed the doors, and like sleeping beauty’s castle, darkness gave us solitude and calm and within it we slept the sleep of the dead.

Monday, July 11, 2005

The Crevasse

A crevasse in my heart that yaws open, plummeting to the deepest reaches of my soul, with an ache that permeates, so hollow in its pain, seeking fulfillment to fill the void that aches with everyday that goes by. Emptiness so lifeless that it exceeds pain, where pain becomes a relief to the inconsolable hungriness of this yearning needs to be fulfilled. Like sorrows that stack up starting from the ends of my toes, building as it creeps up my body, permeating my pores with a sadness that leaks from me. I at times wonder if people can feel this sadness that pours from me, a misguided halo that never leaves, that behind the smiles and even the times of happiness it sits on my skin, like a tingling blanket that rests so lightly on me, the faintness bringing a pulsating nervousness to my hands and feet. A tension that curls my toes and emanates from the tips of my fingers like darts, begging for a release from the nerves of sadness.

My arms wrap around a beautiful child, a child that finds more safety and comfort in my arms than I ever will. To him I am his beautiful being, his cloak and shield against the world, a haven where no storms can touch, his absolute refuge from the world. At times my baby stares into my eyes, his eyes in their innocence lock into mine and I wonder if he can see the burning flames of hell racing through me. I breathe in their essence, their breath lapping against my nostrils, gentle waves of warmth and love. I inhale their being into my core, wanting to fill my void with their beauty and strength. Like a black hole the moment is fleeting as it plummets into my crevasse, the energy dissipating, torn and eventually gone, increasing the ache, widening the gap, tightening my pain. I stare at them, grief encompassing me, remembering every detail of their perfection, searing it into my mind. I never know if this will be the last I see of them.

Tired, always tired, behind my eyes the war to keep the gates from falling, a battle that repeats, the walls shudder, the heavy doors bend with the weight of the enemy pressing to get in. Always a battle, a battle of strategy and deceit, deception, masquerade, detour the enemy, fend them off, keep them running. Always a game to stay a step ahead, to plan the game, make the rules, and always at attention. A lull, a false sense of security and the rush will bring you to your knees, the conquerors pillaging and raping the kingdom of your mind, and you are helpless, watching, chained, and willing yourself to die than witness the annihilation of your core. Because they don’t care, their mission is not to care, to make you scream, scream for mercy, for the saviour, and when all is lost, you scream for your death, the warmth, the escape, the closure from the raging battle behind your eyes.

Hearts do ache. Mine aches. As if I am in there, in a hollow, walking through emptiness and pushing at the wet walls, reaching up and trying to envelope myself, curling in a corner, covered in dampness and moisture listening to the metronome of my heart beating its plea. The sound echoes through, pulsates in the hollow, spreading the walls, and reverberating an ache through to the surfaces of my organ. A steady gong, a white noise, an aching that wills me to try and reach through my chest, to squeeze the compartments of my heart into one, to mesh the walls, swallow me, and force the hollowness out, make me whole, make the constant pulsing reminder of my void find another home. Find a satisfaction in squeezing my heart, like a sponge, twisting and smashing it between my hands, grasped so tight in my fists, to feel the gush between my fingers, every last drop of sorrow and ache dripped out. How scary to know that I can visualize that act, can feel the relief in creating that picture in my mind, wishing that I could, wondering if I would, tear my heart from my chest to free my soul.

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Beautiful Broken Girl

Stunning, gorgeous, the woman that other women love, admire and simultaneously hate and envy, men wish they have her, or are in love with her. Large, dark eyes, pools people call them, pools that you fall into when you stare into them, or as you make love to her. Her smile, a real smile, a wonderful laugh, she’s always smiling I’m told. The longer you look at her the more beautiful she seems, every time you see her face you’re struck by something new. Not tall but slim enough that she has a body with all the curves in the right places, sexy curves that hold clothes right, and a posture that begets confidence. Amazing legs, shapely, curved and a man's greatest desire is to stroke her legs, have them wrapped around them. Burnished bronze, a warm brown, a pale mocha, a colouring that water runs off like rivulets down a golden stream. Skin that you want to stroke, always soft, always begging for touch, gentle slopes and lines that call to be caressed, the curve of her hip, the flatness of her stomach, the clarity of her back and the roll of her derriere. Innocence, a vulnerability that men want to protect, a beautiful girl they can care for, a woman that gives them sexuality. Eyes that show them the world, a body that takes them to heights, and they want to make love to her, claim her, they want to be part of her. This beautiful creature they all want to possess and be loved by.

The beautiful girl, the beautiful, beautiful broken girl. But you never see the broken, even she forgets how broken she is. Its like playing charades with yourself, put enough masks on, control enough things and you’ll never know you're broken till the cracks start to come through the papier mache you lovingly layered on piece by piece. But water and paper only last so long before they begin to peel and the ugly starts to glare through, like needles piercing up from the skin.

She wants to scream till her veins break the surface of her skin, yell till sound ceases to be, damn you, you don’t know her, you don’t, its hell, its an illusion, an illusion that makes her seem so beautiful. You see the only thing she has is this beautiful girl, this beautiful shell that hides all the tears, the hate, the broken, broken soul that lives inside. You love her, you love this image you see, this creation that she cares and tends to, to hide all the ugliness that tears inside. If she didn’t have this shell, the haunting vulnerability you find so endearing, would you still want her, crave her, need her, admire her, lust for her and idolize her? Ask yourself that, what is it that you want of her?

She’s nothing, this beautiful girl, she is her affirmation, it brings you to her, to love her and make her feel whole and wanted. You see, she needs you more than you need her. She thrives off your love and adulation, she doesn’t have it, she doesn’t make it, and she doesn’t see it. I see it in your eyes, your words, your actions, your touch; you make her feel whole, affirmed and wanted. You don’t see the ugly hiding in the corner, and you make her forget about her, that beaten, insecure, weak creature that she is. But she’s my heart and soul, she is I, the me I want to erase, but I love her. She is my heart, a heart so covered in scars that I cant give you any of it, I cant find it, I don’t know if its there, does it still work. Please don’t ask for that heart, please don’t ask me to feel it or find it, I don’t know how to feel, I don’t know how to access, its gone, long gone. But I have this beautiful girl for you, but if you push her too hard, try to find the path into the ugly, she’ll hurt you, don’t go near her, she’s untouchable, she’s my ugly, she’s the ugly you cant see, because she breaks me, breaks the beautiful girl to nothing, to pieces, and maybe to death.

But, you know what, she’s there, and I cant ignore her because she cries with me and is a part of me. We’re twins, born together, married through sickness and in health, till death do us part. And I can’t forget about her, she needs my strength, I need hers or we’ll both die. This will consume us.