remember me

the breath expires, a dull sensation, reaching for the feel to know i exist as a person someone real to this humanly demise…the ache inside is small, almost void of any real meaning and i feel that it should make me less a human, attached to those surrounding me, or that infact those child memories that i vaguely recall are simply that, vague.

inside there is a hurt, hopeless and rendering my control obsolete, and my heart aches for my dearest mother, who has now lost both the beginning and end of her creation by the swift hand of death. it was instrumental with my up-bringing, surely it was, the love inside herself for the parents she once had and must still hold on to. she said simply, “she is with daddy now.” and knowing not what to say i only commented, “she is better there.” not that i was demeaning her love or even her strength in holding her mother above the water for so long, only that if i gave someone the promise of my life, that i would want nothing but to be with this one always.

and yes i feel the stinging burn my eyes now as i realize, this is where my reality goes, why i have felt so lost lately, why there is a void seemingly endless, because i have been incapable of writing.

my world revolves around words, images painted, moments snatched away forever pasted to a page in time. and i have lost the will to be the writer i so wanted and believed i could be so long ago. and my influence sucks the life of those around me, delves into endless insomnia plagued by thought after thought that cannot escape. i feed on the hurt and pain inside myself and have grown so accustomed to its cold that the warmth is angry and terrifying. 

here i try to explain, i try to pose, i try to be all the things i say i hate, but i long only to remember how to be this someone i was in misery. but the pain i hate, its tight grip, its suffocating scent, stagnanting and replusive. i placed the pillow over its face so many times struggling with its strength to suck the life quickly away from its presence, only to pull back because the coward in me is simply not a killer. but again and again i shut the door, pad locked, and chained hoping against hope that i cannot hear its screaming behind the door, reverberating within my skull, aching, piercing sharp and forlorn into my thoughts.

the facade grows weary and seamless. as if the mask no longer pulls away from flesh. and all the savage thoughts remain tiresome and lonely, a barrage of nothingness ripping at my flesh

and i only want to sleep forever, to slowly fade away, but i wish for the utmost request

i don’t want to be forgotten