Leaning Forward with the Intent to Fall

2014-02-02 02:37 AM

I smashed my reflections face
into that mirror-world's endless corridors
aching for it to fall apart,
so that I could cut that world into pieces

But instead, I...
I picked up the shards of my mirror-image
and repainted the walls red
and carved a million kisses into it

Stuck in the downward spirals
I tried not breathing once
it didn't quite give that same kick
that I wanted my stomach to receive

and I wrote hate mail to God
in the cracks on my forehead
as I stood at the edge of the world
that I called Home a long time ago

I stood there watching
screaming storms and thunder upon houses,
hiding myself in the eye
of the storm that my lungs vomited forward

And I remained there for a while
painting flowers onto the graves
of all dreams that this world had killed;
for all the children that this world has killed

So I painted tirelessly,
hardly being able to breathe in the rain that tried to sweep
the colour of my dark scarlet ink away
from the canvas that I'd turned my skin into

so I wept endlessly
hoping that a tsunami would wash me away
and then I jumped
hoping that I could create a landslide

Self-destruction is the path of poets,
that's why we turn pain into beauty
and beauty into pain

So I stand here
at the edge at the end of my world
leaning forward with the intent to fall