Tag Archives: eccedentesiast.

request.

there is the realisation,
that this is your life:
and you’ve spent more than half of it
wishing it was over.

take me now,
the tearful plea each night;

take me now,
the gutless desperation;

take me now,
so i can forget;

take me now,
before the game unravels;

take me now,
let this be the last time.

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implode.

because
it feels like,
my heart
is still breaking
multiple times
in the day.

because
the pain
and grief
continue
to obliterate
my lungs.

because
every step
outside the shell
is opportunity
for panicked
collapse.

because
i have only
two gears:
self-destruction
or
cowering solitude.

because
why sleep
when the hours
are an anxious monotony
of every terrorising fear
and every disappointing flaw.

because
everything hurts
but “so it goes”:
still my heart beats
still my lungs inflate
still my brain implodes.


flood.

the flood
of memories
always brings with it
a sharp inhale,
and tight, heavy
boulder in his chest.

he misses
the warmth
of her body beside him;
her laugh,
and the depths of her mind
he ran out of time to discover.

his eyes
are full
of the pain and bruises;
careless rejection,
and the pretense of a friendship
that was over long ago.

his lost
his best friend,
and she’d already forgotten him;
like another possession
taken tragically in the flood,
but easily replaceable.


cup.

another one
for the cup:
cup of sugar,
cup of tea,
cup of soup.

another one
for the cup:
cup of dust,
cup of glass,
cup of blades.

another one
for the cup:
cup of blood,
cup of salt,
cup of hair.

another one
for the cup:
cup of nails,
cup of grass,
cup of pain.


[okay]?

what happened?
it’s okay.

where did you go?
it’s okay.

how’s your heart?
it’s okay.

is it dark?
it’s okay.

are you alone?
it’s okay.

when will it stop?
it’s okay.

why not?
it’s okay.

it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.


organ donor.

slice me open,
take my lungs:
they have overcome asthma;
broken the limits of anxiety; and
suffered the deepest grief and pain.
still i breathe.
take my lungs.

slice me open,
take my liver:
it was once clean and pure,
until annihilated in a moment;
but time and time over, proof of natural restoration.
still i heal.
take my liver.

slice me open,
take my heart:
it is cool to touch;
ice-like and made of broken stone;
simultaneously rough and fragile.
still i live.
take my heart.

slice me open,
take my [life].


downgrade.

like a couple who grows old,
the children leave home,
and the family dwelling
is too big, too unweldy
to maintain.
nostalgia and grief:
downgrade.

like the unwilling assessment
of credit risk and consumer confidence.
black marks and a world renowned
rating scale.
disappointment and reluctance:
downgrade.

like two lovers.
entrenched in expectations
that became too big; unweldy.
a growing risk profile.
nostalgia.
disappointment.
reluctance.
grief.

downgrade.


stride.

eat my
hand;
draw breath
and see
the raw mist.

call the
question
unearthed
and captured
in real time.

my brain
permanently
intoxicated,
high anxiety
and the dull grey.

watch her walk
see the stride,
a purpose
unknown
but free.

loose flesh
and fish oil
stains;
waiting in
silent terror.

longing sobs;
inevitable loss.
leave quietly
or rather,
don’t let me fall.


past.

he is.
i am.
we were.

your touch
is cold
and forced.

my throat
is dry
and empty.

your heart
is small
and fragile.

my fingertips
are reluctant
and strained.

your brand
of love
isn’t mine.

my lungs
keep aching
for more.

your ribs
are bruised
with effort.

you are.
i am.
we were.


A N D.

i play video games
and watch cars
drive past;
louder and faster,
then smaller and
silence.

find solace in
blind, unconditional
dependence.
soft and forgiving,
then warmer and
silence.

scars and bloody bruises
shake my shoulders
and i wear the pain;
fragile and tender;
then war wounds and
silence.

no more words
and no more tears;
her heart is empty again;
dull and dark;
then grey and rotting and
silence.

food is tasteless
and dreams offer
reluctant fuel;
extract my memories
then mute the pain and
silence.