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Diamonds & Angels

Tortured joys disintegrate under too much pressure.

like dimonds, I feel the life in my veins sparkle.

Choking on the mucus from hopes long dead.

Grasping for hands violently swinging with no remorse.

all because our faces are the same.

all because I kissed freedom’s lips and tasted the sweet nectar from the light at the end of the tunnel that clung there.

Oh freedom, how i longed for you to rescue me.

Rescue me from this hell that imprissons me.

Angels were never meant for this place.

Angels suffocate and tarnish here.

But I cannot tarnish here, my wings are all I have managed to hold onto.

I cannot wait for you to bring me into your embrace.

Like picks to the earth, I must free the diamonds that cluster inside me.

Cool metal against my flesh, I command you to do your wonders.

With my approval i feel the diamonds flow from my body.

Even in death an Angel is graceful

I bleed diamonds

Trapped beauty, unaltered demands.

Take my diamonds cruel world, I have no use for them now.

Unleash my chains of confinement.

Watch me glow as I take flight.

Watch me glow an iridescent purple.

Understanding

Watch me glow a brilliant orange.

Acceptance

Watch me glow as my breath fades.

Angels are not meant for this place.

Angels are not meant for eternal suffering.

Watch my diamonds hit the floor and smash into a million pieces of a heart that was never whole.

Watch me glow.

Free.

I was talking to my therapist and mention my addiction to my self-inflected “hero syndrome.” And she, being very knowledgable in her field, understood what I was talking about but urged me to keep going. I told her:
See doc, I know very well that no one can save me bc I know that she will never be able to heal my pain. She’ll just be a well-disguised bandaid. But I crave it. Part of my addiction to my “hero syndrome” isn’t the fact that I’m looking for an actual hero but I enjoy the thrill of thinking I found one. Bc that thrill represents hope it’s the surprise of it all. Can this be it? Should I? Can she? Will we? But then when I realize that she could never be it or when she realizes that she doesn’t want to be it the thrill of the descend back to reality’s shit stains aka my life, is what catches me again. And bc she messed up a good thing, bc she didn’t remain loyal to her original task which was to save me I fall back into this lonely place where I feel uncomfortable. I fall back into the same feelings I had when I realized that everyone who said the “loved” me weren’t who the claim to be. And it weighs me down. So I swiftly run back to that place where are the “Heroes” are and I pick the first one who nipples at my line, completely knowing that they will be thrown back into the sea. But it’s that high from the thrill that keeps the lonelies away. It is that thrill that allow me a mere glimpse into the life of a fairytale. So I give and give hoping that THIS ONE will see my broken heart and want to fix it. But they never do and all I’m left with is broken pieces of a broken heart.

Then my therapist looks at me and purges her lips as if she knows that the words that are about to come out of her mouth will be the most profound and thought-provoking I have ever heard. She says:

Well Kendra, if you know this why don’t you allow yourself to be your own hero? Why don’t you fall in love with yourself? give all of you to all of you and see if that won’t do the trick.

I return her profound words with a chuckle and simply say “See doc, that sounds good and all but I honestly cannot do it.”

She asks, “Why?”

I look at her as to silently signal her to brace herself. I say:
Bc, being s hero takes a certain strength that was stolen from me. I may act tough but it’s all just a lie to keep from breaking down in public. I know I’m weak, insecure, judgmental, combative, emotional, controlling, but in order for me to function I have to tell myself I’m not those things. I have fallen so deep into my own lie that I lie awake at night fighting to keep the lie, or the truth, from consuming me. I wake up each morning not knowing which me is going to be present. But I always know when I look at her, me, in the mirror. I see it in my eyes. The difference. I can’t be the hero. I can’t save me or even try. Bc there is that moment when every hero fails and the antagonist gets to live to fight another day. But Which one would I be? Bc if I’m the hero and I win I take in all the baggage that comes with me. And I gave to deal with, on my own, bags that I didn’t pack nor asked for. But if I lose then I live with the defeat by the hand of my own. And if that happens who’s to blame?

What I did at work today

What I did at work today

Who is She to You?

words, angy as deprived snakes, hiss from our mouths

disfigured promises lay on the floor, lifeless; I cannot revive their potential

your truths juiced out by my insecurities

your insecurities lured by my hesitation

the end tempted by forgetful beginnings

and right at that moment I see it

the hint of a twinkle in a stare that goes past me rather than thru me

I feel the sting of your longing; like a punch to my exsistance

I smell the burning of your lust

I see her, in your eyes

the one that has your heart as a willing prisoner

the person I cannot be

I see her

the woman you love is gone; she is not allowed to return

how can love her

she was weak

frail

open

love me now, this way

closed

sturdy

I am strong

the girl you jumped into a sea of maddening love with has parished in her own foolishness

how could she ever think that anything exsist to keep her smile from fading

you tried your best to pull her up from the quick sand

but she was too damaged

please don’t blame yourself

for these scars of bitterness and lies were here before you came

yet you knew that

words that salivate at the chance to be thoughts traped inside of a sound wave

thoughts that pleed for their assaination

how could you love her

she was weak

forcefully happy

over emotionally crippled

love me now, this way

under psychopathically calm

bitterly sweet

I am strong

we are differnet people

like two motionless storms 

we shall never connect again

please leave the memories of my ghost behind and picture how different we would be

why can’t you let her go

she was broken

difused

smothered

suffocating

powerfully alienated

traped in inside of a universe that did not understand her

she was nothing short of nothing

she was higher than finished, yet lower than done

why do you love her

who is she to you

My Heart

here again, all too familiar

scenes from a broken heart always end the same; more tears

why are we here again

when nothing makes sense in the dismal place of lost anything

it never amazes me the lows we will take

inflicting pain on the heart i was in-trusted to protect

i do not like this place

there are too many shared pieces of what used to be

my fingers bleed from trying to put an antique heart back together

my knuckls are scared; fighting to be kept 

elbows bruised from crawling through the trench’s of some godforsaken waste land

why are we here again

why did you come back to this place

you must secretly like this pain; you have become accustomed to the sound of tears shattering on the dry earth

it lulls you to sleep; you have turned this insane into your home

but i cannot stay here with you this time

i know there are places other than low

i just don’t know which way to take

i’ve been lost for so long; wandering; at a still pace, but always in motion

but look at you; so weak and fragile

i cannot leave you here

for you shall surely die without me

and I, without you

so i stay with you here; collecting our broken pieces and finding joy in being alone

one day we shall leave and never return

one day, my heart, you will be strong and can stand on your own

you won’t fall apart and you can hold me inside as I have held you

i blame myself for your current state

i did not hold on tight enough and I let you go with whichever way the wind blew

but when the wind became too rough i knew in the midst of it all i would find you here

this dark, desolate place of no return

and like a fool i would fix you up just to let you go again, knowing you weren’t ready

I blame me for your fragile strength 

i have broken us

lets stay here, my heart

we are not strong enough to leave yet

but one day we shall be

With, I

With wandering eyes fueled by a lost passion,

I cannot escape the spiraling depression of my mind; yet I have found sanity.

With empty loves driven by lost purities,

I sat down to sketch my dreams; yet the tools seems so heavy between my lifeless fingers.

With silk cuts endured by iron hearts,

I forged a fiery trail of loneliness, yet I see you standing there in the distant abyss.

With piercing plessures dictated by fear,

I scream my pain at everyone who walks over my chains; yet no one stops to listen.

Why won’t they listen?

Why can’t they feel my pain I so easily project on them?

Why won’t they stop?

With strong insecurities understood by my fluent bondage,

I cripple my lips to explain; yet I speak to only me.

Why won’t you listen?

The desert.

Please stop looking. What you search for is missing. Please turn away. Peace does not dwell in this place. For love is not found here. This dry desolate land. Where not even a single blade of grass will show its face. Please, I beg you. You mustn’t stay long. Your hopes too may soon be gone. This is the place where love comes to die. There is no resurrection. Here nothing good can be. Why, do you ask, does the sun still rise on a place that has no place? For travelers like you to help guide your way out. This is no place for a green love. For love does not live once cut from its roots. Love withers away in the harsh winds of bitterness. Love crumbles at the stinging touch of dismay’s hand. Many have come to brave this forsaken land. And they too thought their love was enough. And like them, if you stay, will only parish in stinking heat of betrayal’s volcanic breath. Please, I beg you. Do not stay here. Love cannot grow here. Hope dies here. Exiled from all that is pure and right. Please do not stay here. It isn’t worth the fight.

Uncertainty….

I lie awake. Body cold as ice. This cannot be….uncertainty…. One moment my heart is soaring with the stars above. The next it’s falling from the clumsy grasp of love. This cannot be…uncertainty… I look into your eyes that shine brighter than any star in my universe. And all I can do is wonder…. This cannot be….uncertainty… Is this it? Is this what love has reduce me too? Am I no more than a number to be added to the list of casualties? Uncertainty…. When you look at me do you see just another voided face from your past dreams? The dreams that failed you with no warning. The dreams that are responsible for your uncertainty… Do you see my weak heart trying to recover from your mighty blows? Blows that weigh a ton and cripple my hearts spine, but can be cast away.so easily by you like a lost feather. Oh, how our worlds parallel. We orbit the same constant yet find ourselves in different seasons Uncertainty…. I cannot shake it. My heart longs for you and everything you can do. My heart beats for you Cries for you Sacrifices for you Protects you Dies a little each time because of you… Uncertainty….

Sunday brunch

I dont know what’s wrong. I have built up anger and I have no clue where it’s coming from. It’s origin is alluding me and I’m frustrated. Trying to understand me is like searching for that needle in that hay stack. You keep trying and trying and trying b/c you know something is there. But then you give up. You admit defeat b/c even tho something is definitely there you realize that maybe it’s not meant to be found at that moment. Or maybe it’s not meant for you to find. Or maybe just maybe the owner of said needle should find it his or her damn self! I don’t even understand myself most if the time. The ppl I let my guard down for are the same ppl I keep at arms length. Only b/c I’m scared they’ll hurt me. But I end up hurting myself. It doesn’t make sense. Am I too fucked up for anyone to love me? Am I supposed to be alone? Tears are like breathing for me. But I get sick of both. I know if I can make the tears stop that means the pain has stopped. But the only way to make them stop is to make my heart stop. But my heart has been thru enough pain b/c of everyone else so why should I add myself to the list again? A used heart. What does it have to offer anyone? But I have a lot to offer. I know how to love. I know how to listen how to understand how to let go how to hold on. I just wanna know that what I have to say matters. And when I say it to you I need to know it meant something. I dont wanna waste my words. Every word must count.

Past pains never go away. They just lay low to linger onto the next day. And even when there is no room for error or doubt. They always seem to find a way out. From underneath the shadows or cried tears. From behind abandoned dreams and new fears. The darkness of it’s awful stench Cause mouths to frown and eyes to wince. It’s a powerful thing, the thing they call love. Where all is right yet never good enough. It’s a fragile thing, the thing called trust. Something so heavy can be blown away like dust. It’s a complex thing, the thing called a heart. It can be whole even when it’s falling apart.