exist

I dont believe that I exist
my mind is my own palace
I never leave
in conversations I hear
I do not listen
quiet now, the palace has its own music
I exist only in my head
call my name so I know
I know
I know I exist
I'm a void, so empty
do I cover up space?
do people see me when I move?
or am I alive only in my head?
I have no relations
sabotaging everything in my path
call my name so I know
I don't know
I exist.

ever since.

Since you left my colours don't have clothes and food doesn't approve of tongue
the world has shunned me out
and I have too with distaste
the wind has needles and the needles they pierce my skin
they come at me, it hurts when I think
they whisper, they tell me different kinds of things
like the fact that you're not coming back
dishes left unwashed at the sink

I look in the mirror
the only person who hadn't left
a window to a different world
a bottle of champagne left unpaid at the check
I relied on her, didn't dare to look
she's supposed to be there, no matter how much time I took

but there's someone else there
I don't recognize who
it's not looking at me
it's too disgusted to see
its skin is the colour of my thoughts
an image too dark, a scene uncanny

it looks different
it looks kind of familiar
her face and life betrayed
she has a lot of scars
an unacceptable past
I know her
I can finally see
she's my reflection, I couldn't lie
since you left
it hasn't looked me in the eye.




-nn

flowers on the curtains

I count the flowers each day

and each day they’re different in colour

different in numbers

from the garden to the room

and in the room my eyes, closed

I yearn to feel the flowers on my pads of my fingers

a single layer of dust adorning the petals

I wish to devour it

to smell it

the roughness of the flowers as I bite it

unsinkable

I swallow it, I cannot breathe

the flowers cannot be swallowed, I cannot breathe

the next day there are people in the room

I can feel it, their tears wiped away the dust

the flowers are now clean

they’re different, they’re pretty

I wish to touch them

to feel something, anything, but I am dead

asleep, eyes closed

my tongue choking me as I lay

it wants the flowers, it wants to be pretty

I wrap the flowers around my wrists, so beautiful, so much indeed

indebt to the colour matching my view, thump, thump, thump

i’m not alive, am I?

my neck adorns the flowers

sinks into my throat

I have flowers both in and out of me, I am now whole

they sink too far into my flesh

it hurts

thump. thump. thump.

i cannot breathe.

i cannot move.

i am me.

the curtains have closed.

-nn