Burn down all that once was

If the greatest monster
Were locked in the cage with you
How would you escape?
Would you trade your soul away?
Like I did?
Cast yourself into the Hellfire?
Like I did?
Have your body torn to pieces?
Like I did?
So one day you could rise again?

I am the phoenix
Creature of the flame
For I know what it's like to be burned
And I always rise again

Steel

I look upon a little cut
Caused by a slip of the knife
Not intentional, just from preparing food
And it is still soothing
Balm on clawed nerves
And even in my happy state
My skin enjoys the feel of my blades
I should invest in many
Viciously sharp ones
For when I want to quickly bleed
Small and cute ones
For those times that paper is not enough to sketch on
And I crave some hatch marks
Upon myself

And it all sounds very sick
Very brutal, ugly and cruel
So why does downing that vodka
And smoking and sucking tar
Constitute a better way to cope?
So I crave a blade
So what?

It's not everyday
It's not all over
Just a small line here
Some blood weeping from there
So surrender to the voices inside
And I am proud
They give me Pride
So I give them Peace

And you'll never know
Because my mouth remains
Impassive to you
Though some sorry part
Wants you to know all

And maybe some day you will

Unarmed

My wall has fallen
The castle is torn
My white banner
Waves in surrender
And I am frightened
But I am not sad

The hole is no longer filled with lead
The iron burns my skin again
My eyes are not cloudy
There is blood in these veins
They scream in power

My mouth is unstitched
My wings are unfurled
But I'm still afraid to fly

The castle still looks inviting
The dark that was made for hiding
Still wants me in its depths
But I can't be there anymore

And some small part
Cries out in quiet pain
Is still bloody
Battered and bruised
Is still feeling the effects
Of my cruel treatment
Of the numbingness
I used to feed it

For I am the jailer
The prisoner
The key
And I throw these away
Away, away from me

This place is not nice anymore
It is pain
It is pointless
It is more than agony

I am out in the sunlight again
The moon can touch me
The stars are lost in my hair

And I can breathe.

Behind a Wall of Flame

And you don't know what it's like
To have those
Those supposed to be 'family'
Doesn't matter that we just met
They shouldn't look at you like a piece of meat
And they are half starved wolves.

But they don't seem to notice
I'm a wolf also
I am the true wolf
You jackals can only pretend
And I'll hunt you down
Or I'll run and hide
But you cannot touch me.

Letter from an Opheliac (and a Hamlet) to others of her\his kind

I realize that as much as I want to live now, to believe in my own beauty and power, and develop my full capabilities, I don't want my past to be called 'dirty'. Self-destruction is not dirty. I am not some awful thing for planning suicide or cutting or lying numb and dumb. I want all that is 'awful' to be seen in the light. My darkness is no longer my shield; it is my banner and badge- it is the thing that deems me war torn and battle weary. It is nothing to be ashamed of!

Haruki's Assignment

A measure of water in a faceted glass cup. Beside the remains of an odd, vegan dinner: sliced strawberries on 'cream cheese' of the soy variety, on multigrain toast. It perpetually sits out on the counter. Right now, it has gotten somewhat warm- having been poured about an hour earlier. Calling me... "Drink me... Drink me..." I feel like Alice.
I should get up and restore myself. I am parched. I am spent, as panic attacks, moments of mania, times when frenzy dominates my body and mind are bound to do.
But I don't want to. I want to rest, I don't want to sleep. I just want to sit in silence until the sun emerges and remind me that I have obligations that will now be near impossible to fulfill.
And I want to knit- a useless skill, I know. How frequently I take the time to learn what is 'useless' and forget what is 'important'.
And I don't care.

Favorite Colours

It has been many years where my favorite colour was blue. And I don't mean the primary, mix-with-the-other-two-to-make -secondary-colours, blue. More like misty blue, fade into smoke blue, mystic blue, purple and blue, black and blue- even greenish blue.
For a long time, I sat wallowing in my own filthy depression (I realise now that I had childhood depression- not fun when no one believed such a thing was possible). It has only been within a short while that the darkened haze has moved away from my eyes.

Lately, a shift has happened, now I would have to say that my favorite colour is violet- and its shades, tints and tones. The brightness and beauty of this colour draws me to it. The fact that its beauty rests in its inherit spirituality means so much more.

And I notice something new: 'hot' colours hold sway over me now. Where before they burned my eyes (and I'm not kidding. I've been tested and have extremely sensitive eyes to colour) now they are a delight.
I like red. What does that say?