How do I express my anxiety? Let me dip my nails and bite my skin, with the horrors of iterative chills like a wood spanking my cheekbones Colour changing, chameleon tongue. I am pulverized in this shade of trance, with my thoughts eating my red eyelids. Pich and pluck or pluck and pinch Spit and run or run and spit The ebb of heart rises like high tides in sigh. I sit in this corner, burning now along with the burning ink.
i miss the way your heart used to fuck mine in the middle of a crowd, as everyone looked over at us, without ever seeing how fast they slammed against our ribcages, while we tried to cage our flailing valves and aching veins that were too tired to scream, and yet too obstinate to stop fighting.
it’s all too very still now.
my body has lost it’s rebellion, and my mind has lost it’s battle, as they both stand silently over the tomb where parts of you lived within me long ago. everything that moves today, does so in denial- because acceptance hurts.
you could sew bones back into their sockets, and joints back into their folds, but the tears at the creases where you folded my breast as a keepsake cannot be joined anymore than you can reset the calendars to sail back through those months that lost their very name in the avoidance of yours.
i’m like a water molecule at the surface of silent lake- you crashed into me with a single violent kiss, and then skipped away, without ever turning around to watch me drown-
i miss the way you stole the clarity of the graceless stars that bewailed the loss of their entangled twin, with each breath.
“I’m an autumn leaf, fluttering with loneliness on a naked branch.. where I observe the world, like a specter. It’s all fleeting moments, entwined with cold mornings fading into frosted evenings. Never still, yet never moving.”
I am Ra’ahe Khayat, and let me make you fall into the rabbit hole breathing in my mind at Fallen Alone
Dyslexia, into my thin membrane
to hear your wounding tales
Pervicacious drops of blood stick to my venom
I hear wars, tremors, haze into the folds of my skin,
like palpable beggar’s eye.
My white bed-sheet mark my body with cuts, acidic tears
Proliferating porous permanent scars
Hush, my words are twisting into my own stomach,
My thick mouth deteriorates again and again
Observe my skin, its expanding its dimensions
Changing seasons, changing colours
Squalid eyes pinch the glance, time pokes thorns on my tongue
Am I a myth, still being a reality?
Or I am the reality in your venal liquid baked body.
©My Valiant Soul