It's Just Me...
This venomous silence in my head that lets me know I’m not really quiet I’m just, not thinking. Close to the breaking point yet refusing to acknowledge the cracks in my carefully crafted armor.
Silence the weapon, silence yourself. Choke down that anger. Wrap it around yourself like a blanket with thorns. Squeeze yourself into yourself. A continuous loop of poison almost too sweet to swallow.
This loudness this buzzing. This empty mind full of recriminations. These beautiful hands so clean and pink and raw from scrubbing my throat clean. Am I clean enough now? I’d scrub a thousand times over. I’d turn my brain over a million times in these hands. The previous thousand times are definitely not enough. Have I swallowed enough tears to be allowed into the hallowed circle of your arms? Have I killed enough versions of myself to be allowed to gaze upon your face? Is this beautifully made creature broken enough to stand on your shelf of treasured things.
Shall I be dusted and cared for if I hate myself enough. Tell me please.
