Sludge

Sludge

I've been sitting here with my pen

thinking hard of ways to describe

how sludge feels. It's not a particularly 

beautiful word. It's not made with 

poetry in mind, the same way my mind 

was. Can I put a bow on that 

slick and sticky feeling? A flourish 

onto the knowledge of being stuck

and slowly sliding under? There's

no fancy way of spelling

the ways in which my brain feels 

both overrun and forgotten. 

Despite our differences, that

sludge and I are married now. We said

our vows, one random Thursday 

afternoon in a random month

and random year. We promised each 

other nothing in that already 

darkened room because we had 

nothing there to give. All I had 

was myself. All they had was also me 

and they already had me devoured.

I was the something old, something new,

something borrowed and something blue.

I hated every second they invaded

my brain to demand more of my time

and space. More of anything 

that made me me, so they could 

replace it with everything that was them.

There's a fondness in familiar hatred. 

A complacency in mutual destruction.

You cannot stop growing closer when 

you are invaded. 

I no longer remember how it feels to 

feel alive. All I feel is bruised. For now, 

being nothing still feels less scary than

dying. Maybe this poem wasn't meant to 

be beautiful. 

I'm lost

I breathe death like air.

It fills my lungs,

coats it with dust and debris,

layering down until 

all I can do is choke.

My grief burns its way 

right through my stomach,

makes me sick 

like sticky spoiled milk

and unrefrigerated meat does.

My tears like oil 

cling to my skin. 

Missing you doesn't ache,

it screams.

It echoes back and forth 

in the void that's still shaped like you.

Everything is off

since you were lost.

The wrongness the only thing

that makes sense.

I don't care that 

everyone tells me 

that I'm consumed by this.

I'm not ready to feel 

anything else but this.

Back to normal 

is its own kind of hell.

Trauma response

It was just a dream, 

I keep telling myself.

But it's that taste of memory

that send me straight to hell.

There is a sea between us now.

A thousand mountains too.

And still your presence haunts me,

the way your fists used to do.

I was a battery that you could keep draining,

Now I fear the dark when I am alone.

And I'm sure that it all feels very entertaining,

The snakes in your words have willed me to stone.

I'm tired of feeling like I need to be strong,

Like my core isn't weak and my edges rough.

Every time I didn't catch you, you strung me along.

You made me believe I'm unworthy of love.

Take me off this ride, 

You don't need a passenger. 

You just want an audience. 

That is what you crave.

Take me off this ride, 

I'm no willing sacrifice. 

Someone to shift all the blame too

every time you misbehave.

You can no longer pilot me

into a hard crash landing

or angle me to take the brunt.

I'll be the last one standing 

and father, you'll be done.

I'm not the one.

Live or die

Some days I wish 

I was less depressed,

out of my head and obsessed.

Counting objects in my brain,

counting ways to die. 

Sometimes I wish I was more stable,

My mind has been feeling

so unbearable and fatal.

Whispering things from

one side to the next.

I have become 

my worst enemy, 

an endless ocean of hypocrisy. 

Dissociating from one day 

to the next.

My fragile mind has been shattered, 

I no longer feel 

that my life has mattered.

All I have done is waiting.

Waiting to finally live or die.

Electrified

Electricity.

I'm electrified.

My mind is on fire and

I can't form a thought.

Long zaps 

go from my brain,

across my skull,

across my back,

across my limbs.

Painful movement 

that is screaming. 

I can't scream. 

Or form words.

I can remember to breathe 

but all my energy

is going into 

regulating.

I can't cope

with the shaking

movements under my skin. 

I'm drowning.

I think I'm drowning 

in the air.

Into deep

Tw, SA reliving, no details

Why has night become the moment 

for you to haunt me? 

Does me lying here waiting 

for a sleep that evades me 

remind my body of those moments 

that I had to be still?

Memories roll like a cascade 

of stone down the hill

and there's no stopping them 

going out of control. 

Every night has become a night

I remember something more.

There were days that I struggled 

with all the things I forgotten.

But starting to remember

has become a lot and

my body feels like it 

spinning out of control. 

My heart rate spikes.

I become pure cortisol. 

Panic set in. I can't 

stop my mind from racing.

Oh god, I can't stop

thinking.

And then,

I remember.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember

and remember,

and remember, 

and remember,

and remember.

Stop.

I'm into deep.

Please. 

I just want to sleep.

You suck

And if I remember you,

it's with fear in my heart.

Not a child's love. 

I remember touch.

Holidays don't matter.

Nor Christmas meals,

or celebrations.

It's the behind closed doors

that lingers.

You haven't given me

everything I needed.

You weren't a good person 

cause I wasn't safe.

You were only well behaved 

in front of an audience. 

In the end,

all you are is a mask.

You won't do anything 

if it doesn't benefit.

A good reputation 

doesn't erase my memories.

They still keep me up at night.