this body is haunted
with the memory
of the universe
bursting at the seams
with things too big
to comprehend

one day i will be
back in the stars
and maybe then
i will understand
why

She used to come to me in whispers, hushed under the calm of the early morning.
"Just like her, just like her, you know you are"
I ignored the noise for years.
I had almost forgot to listen, he made me forget.

A fairy tale prince, riding in on a steed to slay my whispered monster
It starts that way, like a story book or a poem.
the weight of words lift
kisses on my forehead
Whispers can't be heard over a heartbeat next to mine.

It starts that way, all beauty and shine
somewhere, at some point, things grey
Whispers return, a little different this time
"He'll see, just like her. You know he'll leave. Just you see"
They devour the peace.

I remember now, as the monster comes scratching, rapping
her tired song
I remember now the lyrics to her curse
the endlessness that gathers, pouring dirt and sand
burring me slowly under

Just like her

Peel back the scales
the blackened bits
the blistered redness
the purple putrid scabs
inside are paper thin cuts
unhealed

These twisted tales,
Carved in my mind.
Turned bitter and blind
From frantic fright.
Numbed from nettles
That poke me at night.
Accept the strangles
That choke me so tight.
Feeling only the dark
And hiding from light.

These walls
Have spoken a thousand tales.
Yet still,
They pound,
Like thunder and hail.

I lay on the warm bed,
Heated by an unforgiving sun,
Indifferent to how I felt or wanted,
Misery is my birthright;

I looked at my wrist, my slightly sunken veins,
Maybe light's wavelength is a facade,
More green than blue, more death than life,
Tainted blood, still blessed with beauty and grace;

My skin burned, was something trying to escape?
Did the wraiths of my past terrify the demons?
Have I gone insane trying to make sense of it all?
Our dying sun does not care, capitalism has won;

The tired lights of the stars and the ever-growing dark,
My arms are weary from the weight of my choices,
Losing a war does not make you a victim always,
The land is unwelcoming, evolution's mutant regret;

the scar is big
it is bleeding
the wound is real
it is aching
i haven't reach fifty
i feel like sinking
i always thought i am fine
but no i am not okay
it is bad to blame
it is hard to be ashamed
those scars where really there
you just made up
another
or it is burning up

I wrap myself up

in my poem, to show me --


show my open wounds.

Oh, you child!

Blessed be you are.

Born to be the one who is loved

You were made to be torn apart.

The angels cry and sing your name.

You were made to lose all you've earned.

Everything will be in time.

You are with no reason and no rhyme.

It will reach the depths where hell has not dug.

Your name and all the things you've done.

The world will be at your mercy.

And you will die, that is what you will do.

You will die over and over again.

You will skin what is left of your bones.

For those who will eat you whole and alive.

You will thank them for it you will thank him for it.

You will happily oblige.

Oh our sweet thorn born child.

The kisses and praise will litter your skin like an incurable plague.

You are my favourite.

And you will thank me for it.

-Percy

The moon shined so bright,

Your hands around my neck.

I thought I'd forgotten your voice

But your memory was all I had left.

Under the water nothing made sense.

The salt covered what I had left to hide.

My mind drifting to the light.

The feelings that took years to sink.

Under the moon's eye,

A different part of me came alive.

The grief that had drowned me then.

I should've stopped you but I don't know when.

Even if it's not really you, I can lie.

I went here in fear now I'll leave like I'm high.

So I reach out, not to stop you,

But so I can hold you, under this rocky tide.

I'm so glad to see you again tonight.

For the first time in a while and for the last time, goodbye.
-Percy