A sneaky little thought found its way into my skull the other day
It brought along a suitcase filled with sadness
And a razor
But we saved that for the shower
It unpacked its suitcase and unloaded its contents onto me
Covering and layering and covering and layering
Whispering suggestions about how to handle this unpacked mess
I was told the razor may help to re-organize
Red coloured teardrops worked their way from my veins
They traced my mold and burned a path down my skin
I haven’t worn a t-shirt around my family yet
What would they do
What am I going to do//
Weight is my biggest fear
It sits on top of my shoulders like a puppeteer
It started out like an elf on the shelf
Very small, sometimes visible but most of the time forgettable
I wonder if this will ever end
Or if I will ever end
And which one will end first//
He ripped her heart out and ate it
And the corner store that usually sells the spares seems to be closed down for good
She is empty chested, but you can only tell when she bares all of herself
Maybe she drinks to fill the parts of her that used to hold something real
Because I know that both of us haven’t felt full in awhile
And we both puke for different reasons
Winter hugged us both
1,2,3 the contents spill everywhere
Maybe she was just never meant to fill that spot again
Pain coloured the contents of last night’s dinner a deep shade of red
Or perhaps that is blood
A black hand reached through her throat
A black figure stepped out of her skin and lit a cigarette
It winked at me
Quietly rolling up the snake skin that used to be my friend and packed it away nicely
We both walked through the forest holding winters hand
The black rolled her out and slipped her on like a jumper
Asking me to zip her up from behind
The cigarette was almost done
Once again my friend looked back at me
But she winked before she spat out the last bit of poison
I saw bits of black in the contents that covered the earth//
The car ride was long
My ears could feel the base pressing against them
A little too close for comfort
I was numb
It felt really good to be numb
A thought: I love being numb.
That must be why the girl with the crazy dreams gets numb
Maybe when people hold her hair back she can see the future in the toilet like a psychic
That’s why she’s doing it so often
Or maybe her hair is just really silky, so she lets others in on her secret
But only a few of them ever bubble over
She’s good at keeping them locked up
I don’t know where she hides the key but I wish mine stayed locked up like hers
Sometimes they break free
But her prison security is really good
I know some of the inmates she houses in her
One was a familiar face at a party that didn’t know the meaning of a 2 letter word
One wears a mask of her face and whispers awful things if you listen to it closely
One shares a twin inside of me, they’re really good with numbers
They are very close personal friends with the imposters who wear the masks
They have names of course
But they taste like vinegar on my lips so I don’t like to say them
The taste can go away though if I am numb
I use drunken bottles and a funny plant with a peculiar name
She uses containers that rattle around if you shake them
Not made in the factory for her, but no one cares enough to notice
Only when there is none left for themselves
A word: selfish//
I have sewn that label onto the in seam of my clothing
Wearing it in secrecy but knowing its label stands true
I think it is very gaudy so I don’t like people seeing that I wear it
But my clothes have become increasingly larger as I try and shrink
So it is getting harder to hide that dirty little word
A word: regret
I regret a lot of things a lot of the time
Mostly the consumptions that slip down my throat have possession of that word
But sometimes I am able to fashion a home-made gun consisting of fingers and pull the trigger
Not at my head but down my throat
And I can wave a familiar hello to all of the regrets as they slip down the plumbing
A new face has begun to call itself regret
As confetti was spilling out of me in the shower
A curious ear listened in
Curiosity killed the cat
Along with my mother’s heart
Regrets were not the only thing to spill out of me that night
Prisoners escaped and clawed their way out of my throat
The curious ear listened and I swear to God that their heart stopped beating
Now a new creature in black wears the mask called regret
Lighting cigarettes and drinking coffee
Living in our shadows replaying that night so we can’t let our brains get sleepy and forget,
I have never been face to face with a bigger regret in my entire life
It makes my shadow very heavy
Sometimes I just want to lie down and rest
But I’m not sure if I will ever want to get back up again
A thought: when I fall, I fall hard
Sometimes when I fall you can see the damage
Like the lines that hug my wrists so gently
But sometimes I can layer new skin over top so no one can see
A thought: I should add make-up artist to the list of unsureities
A list compiled of everything I plan to be when I am done metamorphosis
Someday when my wings beat in time with my heart
For now though, everything is still
Everything is warm and knitted together waiting for the seams to burst
The same seams that make up my frame and insides
The mealworms slowly seeping in the cracks of the seams
Everything is waiting to burst
Like confetti
When will I burst?
Some days I want to sew patches onto the frayed and holed parts of my skin
Tighten the seams and kiss the broken parts of myself
But those feelings wash away with the tide and all I am left with are my prisoners
My creator says I wear the vinegar tasting figure like a blanket
Perhaps this is true
Because when I can’t kiss the broken parts of myself
Or when my arms aren’t long to sew the broken seams
It is there
Caressing my paper mold
Whispering sweet nothings and empty promises as thin as smoke
It is easy to fall into It
It’s arms are strong
It feeds me the lines I want to hear
Replacing the food with words and see through smoke
I know It is bidding its time and the countdown has already started
Slowly seeping through my pores
We live in the same paper mache mold becoming one
I don’t know how much of me is left
Because I never used to sew labels into the inseam of clothing for my identity
And I never knew the howling of the prisoners I now house
I wasn’t familiar friends with hunger pangs
And confetti was only just a party decoration
I hope to shake hands once again with myself
But until then
I will just breathe.