Day One
Posted: Mon Dec 30, 2013 12:30 am
Preface: I have been having a really hard time with dysphoria and such lately, so my boyfriend suggested that I write stories, poems, songs, etc. to help me along when I am feeling particularly awful or lonely or what have you. They do not have titles. This is day one. Well, night one.
I try so hard to force the words
but they stick in my throat like
flies on the wall, watching silent
with a thousand different eyes.
The possibilities cascade, away,
far away from my lips and ears
and nestle comfortably behind my eyes.
In front of those dilated spheres
is something beyond my lack of
vocabulary, lack of expression,
lack of emotion. Well, not emotion.
Though I cannot, will not, feel it,
it is something too deeply settled
inside of me for words. No matter
how hard I push, they push right back
with their absence. And the presence
of the silence that tears me into
the smallest of fractions is reflected
from the mirror and back into those
thousands of fractured eyes.
I try so hard to force the words
but they stick in my throat like
flies on the wall, watching silent
with a thousand different eyes.
The possibilities cascade, away,
far away from my lips and ears
and nestle comfortably behind my eyes.
In front of those dilated spheres
is something beyond my lack of
vocabulary, lack of expression,
lack of emotion. Well, not emotion.
Though I cannot, will not, feel it,
it is something too deeply settled
inside of me for words. No matter
how hard I push, they push right back
with their absence. And the presence
of the silence that tears me into
the smallest of fractions is reflected
from the mirror and back into those
thousands of fractured eyes.