From here, I can see a vast spread of a place in which no one seems to really live.
I can see a calendar tacked to a stark white while.
It reads June 2004.
The window beside me, though closed, breathes hot air unto me and I choke for breath.
I see a large queen sized bed; heavy layers of green bedspreads and extra afghans draped over the edges.
How unfitting for such a murderous summer heat.
Even more peculiar is how neatly arranged it is; every fold is pristinely creased, each thrown blanket tossed as if made ready for a magazine catalog.
A lone brown bear sits in the middle of the pillows, you see sadness in its eyes it matches the lonesome quality the bed seems to harbor.
The bed has seen no sleep and the bear has not been held in quite sometime.
I scan my eyes around the rest of this hollow room.
A chestnut brown bookshelf stands diagonally in the corner; every book alpha
speaking fractured poetry -
This is how it feels, I decide,
to be fixed - no longer
building night on the inside,
but succumbing to fantastical de-
constructions, marvelling at the map
of binary constellations written
under my skin. To feel no fear
staring wide-eyed at the sun,
at old letters of rejection or
even my reflection. Knowing
she's near; understanding she's un-
This is how it feels to be whole:
to watch my breath thin
and bend the glass geometry
of these bottled skies eastward
to collect the sunrise. To memorise
the way the light builds and breaks,
and to love every lost second,
And this is how it feels, I realise,
to sit and cry for days,
when you can only sleep
for seconds, minutes. Defiance:
knowing the weight of the world
is heavy as god, but
beautiful as her insides.
Walking through corridors forgotten now,
As I stepped into the room with the looking glass.
The shine and shimmer of the glass,
Made me smile at long last,
And inside was a girl smiling back at me.
Stepping up close,
She did the same till we were nose to nose,
Only separated by the pane of glass.
She was short and boring and all together together,
But sad at the same time,
If what her sorrowful brown eyes told me was true.
I laid my hand against hers,
So cold it was,
No warmth coming from the glass.
Became smoke curling towards clouds
You can't burn beauty
Mirrors show fantasies
And watch as words spill over our lips
And onto each other's hearts
Our lives are a picture frame
The meaning is in filling it
And ending it
I want to die in the blue light