in the darkness
that cost me a pain
messing up so many times
until the end
of the day.
I was heartbroken
not being able to say a word.
Took a plane
to get away
from this madhouse called Slovakialand
to see what the life is like out there.
You said “Silencio”
and so it was.
I was naïve and unaware
kept my legs together
and so they stayed.
Until he violently spread my body
to its colorful stripes
realized his insides were pushing onto me
like bare trees
Is there something else to say?
Poetry. Makes. Me. Tired. I wish. I wasn’t. A poet.
I wish doctors help me.
I know. I just-
Something in the past-
Trauma. My legs being taken. My personality becoming borderline-
It all had been changed.
Doctors are supposed to heal and not the other way around.
Get real. Handed Pills. Awoken dreams. Blankets full of whiteness.
Doctors can become the worst patients.
How good was I at treating you? Are your traumas gone now? Is there anyone listening?
It’s going to be all right.
You were playing with fire
Well, here’s the damage.
Scars. Third-degree burns. Strange wording. Exclamation marks. Unstable barking and food.
That coffee wasn’t even good enough.
I should have had sex in the elevator.
Hallucinate about you every day.
Today was different.
Your kids were playing. You were kneeling
in the backyard grass.
Are you stalking me?
It’s all in your head and so is everything but she didn’t get it
The sunshine let me vomit my imaginations right in front of you.
The illusion of you that cares.
The illusion that still exists.
The illusion that plays hide and seek in the backyard with your green grass cups and kids.
The illusion that keeps the flowers open
when they need it.
You see – they too deserve to breathe.
No more. Pain. Attention. Blame.
We created it, we swallow it. Thoroughly.
Is there anyone to tell me why do I keep searching for my ideal parents-
When I know I cannot have them?
And yet-here they are. Are?
On-line. (Anti)social. Once again.
Let me tell you something: All my traumas exist because of my bloody phone.
That’s why I keep breaking the stupid thing
I hope it bleeds the pain out.
MOMENTUM: Trauma repeats itself like a perpetuum mobile. Trauma (n). And this is a life of a lonely girl with matches who ended up alone on Christmas Eve.
Praying. Searching for God.
Did she find her?