When the circus made you cry

I threw my knives at you
as soon as you walked through the door
I had been polishing them all day
so absorbed I forgot what they were for

I had a whole day to practise
to wage the war within my mind
You had no idea
what you would come home to find

Now your tears rust my blades
my aim was too true
No words can fill the wound
now it is the door that I exit through

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Diary Entry 2/4

The start of suffering. The suffocating rising panic. The heartache too heavy to bear. My face distorted in the mirror. Touch burns fingerprints on my raw skin. A longing for that which is lost. Lost. You are no longer. No longer here to wrap my wounds in healing white bandages of comfort. My heavy head leans into a missing shoulder. My back arches for a warmth that has disappeared. I face this dark narrow hallway alone. Reaching for a hand that is too far to reach. My hand falls through decades of pain. It returns to my side empty and cold.

Diary Entry 2/2

How did you get footprints on the walls?
Was it while I was sleeping?
Did gravity turn like a rubix cube, leaving me behind?
No one must ever find out. The awfulness within.
If only we could shed our skin.
Hardened bitter scales traded in for vulnerable soft new beginnings.
I’m scared.
I’m separate.
I’m alone.
Paranoia sticks it’s foot in the door. Something wants me to give up.
Dizzy with mental torture.

I wish I could cry.

I am the Tar, Baby

I have tainted this place
with my depression
Painted it with sticky black tar
suffocating the once glowing white room

Put a bitter taste in the air
heaviness collapsing
this shelter inwards
Like a slow poisoning
a dark possession
It struggles to fight

I hang on to the
small white patch
of hope, yet untouched
I try to clean the thickening walls
searching for the future
beneath the present

It sticks to my hands
and climbs my arms
Reaching strong black ropes
up around my throat

My skin can’t breathe
I can’t breathe

It has consumed me