The Hum

The Walls of this church echo every word I mouth. My breath is it's song. Chips of paint and stone coat it's floors but nothing can conceal the spirit that lives within it. No man made bible can describe the soul incased in these walls. It lurks and seeps like water under doors and out of windows. It seeps into my hands, heating them like a flame. I comforting gesture following the cold of the outside. It seeps into my ears now. The more I listen the more I hear it's hum. It changes as my breath does. For a moment, it's song becomes my own. I follow it's intensity to a door, the hum filling my entire body, sending buzzes down my spine. No longer am I in control. It grows louder with everything step I take and invading my mind. I cannot think .I cannot ignore it. All I can do is listen and walk mindlessly. I find myself in a sacristy staring a nun. The air in the room is freezing but I can't to bare the heat diffusing out of me. She swiftly looks back at me, the hum now deafening as her eyes meet mine. I see her hands small and pale suddenly jolt forward to welcoming me in. My steps are now audible, more than before. For once I can hear something other than the church's song. The nun smiles at me, her lips move and once again, nothing reaches my ears. Her outstretched arms suddenly find mine with a strangely familiar grasp. I've been here before. I've felt this fragile skin. I've heard this wheezing breath of hers. She holds it has her skin touches mine. I do the same.

All is silent now. There is no hum, no song. The building deprived of the life we've been unwittingly supplying. Like a flower, the life there once was slowly begins to wilt. Without our breath this church is dead.

The nun and the sinner find the one true god in eachother's grasp. In eachother's breath.

Tension

When I'm all tensed up

Nothing eases the pain

In my back

My legs

My shoulder blades

I pull and I stretch

Till I feel I could break

I'm frail

I'm weak

I'm a masochist in shame

I've grown fond of the tension

And the tightness within

It's a comfortable feeling

How it twitches my skin

How she draws my attention

How she tugs at my soul

Even if she hurts me

She never lets go

Floral Heart

He unknowingly moves to the rhythm of the moon, the sea, the stars.

He provides both comfort and overwhelm, filling up my heart as if it were a vase which previously collected dust and fly carcasses on a forgotten shelf.

I am now in bloom.

Full of life.

Experiencing all the pain and pleasure at once.

Even the pain is euphoric.

It's amazing how much emotion can be instilled within me when I'm no longer a forgotten ornament.

Bad Habits

He said he smokes more when I'm around

I can't help handing him a cigarette when I pull one too. I hope to keep his lips busy just for a moment. Maybe he'd finally let me finish my sentences without cutting me off

Surrender

I have awoken from a trance I was unknowingly under. Lethargically I walk through my usual life with a sense of new found admiration and peace. Breathing is not so much a difficulty anymore. I can breath deeply with ease, allowing the air to enter every inch of me before finally letting it go. I can love without worry. I can love without losing myself. I can exhale. I can let go

Drawing her

Today I tried to draw her again. I always mess up at the lips. When I draw her eyes, although they remain tainted with the imperfections of my unskilled hand, she still shows through. Her lips never come out right. I guess I haven't gazed upon them long enough for me to draw.

As I drew her eyes from a recent picture she shared online, no amount of shading seemed to be enough. Her eyes were tired, struggling to stay open. They were sunken in and exhausted from the overwhelm and change she has had to endure for these past few weeks. I feel sorry for her in a way. I want her to rest. I want to help her rest. I want to be her rest.

When I draw her from memory, the look on her eyes is always one of awe and love. Her eyes are open and energised although she still has that tingle of rage and frustration building up inside of her. I guess thats how I left her last time I managed to capture an image in my mind. I hope I manage to capture many more, I can never get enough of her

In your arms I was

Shards of glass

It hurt you to touch me

So you threw me to the floor

And rearranged me

Into something

I had never been before

- You can't hold me anymore

I feel impure

A crawling black muck spreads through my body like a virus.

When will it stop?

Please make it stop.

Why is my peace so impure?

There are holes in my heart

There are holes in my heart that I myself created.

I've cored my heart and dented it, hoping it wouldn't hold so much weight.

It was too heavy to live with, too large to contain.

So I chopped out a segment from each ventricle.

And pierced each atrium until it shrunk a little more with every beat.

Now there are holes in my heart.

holes that will never truly heal.

Father

As a child, I saw my father as a personification of who I never wanted to be. I saw the sadness in his eyes as he came home from work. I peeled away every wrinkle and smile line to reveal the true melancholy of adult life which he tried so hard to hide. I promised myself to never fake a smile like him. I would smile genuinely and frequently. There was a lot to smile about. I was happy and I had so much waiting for me in life. I lived each day as productively as a child could, trying my hardest with a stylized image of maturity in mind. I struggled to see how adults could be so depressed in their jobs when I sat for hours pretending to have a job of my own. Now I understand it. With time, my dream of adulthood came true. now, I like the adults live. I get up and go to work. I go to bars and drink expensive cocktails. I make love to the random people I meet then forget about them. I wear what I want. I get catcalled on the street. I lose money. I smoke cigarettes. I eat ice cream for breakfast. I can do that now that I'm a young woman. I've sacrificed my dream of adulthood for its depressing and soul-sucking reality. I wish I could still dream about it but I can't. Time is pulling me by the throat and I can't seem to keep up. I want my old, innocent life back.

Nights without you

When we slept in the same bed we would always spent our last waking moments in eachothers arms. No matter how tired we were or if we had been arguing that day, we never seemed to fall asleep unless we were laying on one another.

These past few months I have found myself slipping in and out of people's comforting grasp, constantly searching for someone who's abdomen perfectly brushed against my back if we were to lay together. Looking for someone who's breathing matched mine just as I'm about to slip into dormancy. It would be unfair to say I haven't found anyone who doesn't replicate your presence to the slightest detail. In fact, I've found many whose hands brush away the tightness of my jaw just as you did. But it's not you. I want it to be you.

Alone Again

Every day, I wake up feeling fresh, well-rested, and weightless. I thank my lucky stars that he's gone while simultaneously hoping he misses me. I spend hours talking with others and doing the things my past relationship had deemed undoable. I convince myself that this is in fact better and that wanting him back is just a product of struggling with change. Part of me believes that. So much so that for a moment I become convinced that I'm over this man completely. However, this illusion never lasts long. All it takes is the thought of him to shake me back into reality. Sometimes, I dial his phone number after a hectic day at work only to remember his number's blocked. Other times I bring him up in conversation where I'm reminded by a friend that he's no longer part of my life anymore; he's once again, a stranger I do believe that some parts of me have moved on. Parts of me even wish he was dead. But with every reminder of him, a new piece of me realizes that he's gone for good. I no longer have someone to wake up next to on Sunday mornings, or someone to hold me after a long day at work. I don't have anyone to massage my back when all I can do is lay lifelessly. I don't have anyone to sing to in the middle of the night when a silly song gets stuck in my head. all these things are reminders that I am once again, alone.

Another everskies outfit collection

tw// suicidal thoughts

I just want structure i want stability and something to rely on. everything is just so hard and shitty and i really feel like i cant trust anyone anymore. i felt really suicidal yesterday and I had no one. literally no one everyonewas busy and no one gave enough of a shit to care. there literally no point anymore I don't wanna go on

another little everskies fit collection