Old Times’ Sake.

If you must act so insolently

Just because my blue skies

Are now grey thunderstorms

You cannot bear the sound of,

Please continue,

Only remember that even today,

If you were to hand me a cup of poison,

I would gladly drink it for old times’ sake.


Painting: “Sophonisba Receiving the Poisoned Cup” by Rembrandt.

Handle With Care?

I’m scared, I’m scared and I’m confused and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who we are anymore, I don’t know who I am anymore. My bruised knuckles feel foreign and so does the faint beat in my chest that rises to a crescendo at times, I’m losing my touch with reality again. The days drag on and they intertwine with nights like two lovers on a Saturday morning, impossible to tell apart. The thunder feels too loud to my fragile ears, and sunshine too bright to my eyes; the only thing constant in all this is the peace rain brings.

A lulling,

torturing,

unattainable peace,

because the chaos inside is too wild to be contained.

Oh, if only you could feel what I do, you’d treat me with a lot more care, my dear.

A Bad Day.

A bad day

Turns into a few

And it’s a bad week

Before you realize,

Now its three bad weeks

In a row;

A bad month

Succeeded by brethren,

12 of them,

A bad year now

And you feel so helpless,

Wondering every moment,

If you’ll ever feel the sun again

Or the peace you felt

Every time the sky lit up mauve,

Sliced by lightning;

The detachment is getting

Too much to bear,

The quiet is

Too eerie now,

Oh how you long

For noise of some kind

Even if it were

Your own strangled screams.