Move Over! No, Move Back!

[WARNING: Slight reference to self harm]

There was one time, I am told

that my charm was equal to an opposing wall:

A monolithic monster of monotones and messages,

spewing from recordings like discarded dial tones.

And I’m aware that I won’t be adding up to more than this anytime soon.


I live on, the story goes,

taking cuts from every knife and thorn.

It’s the irony of talking like you’re readying to be alone

but wishing to be noticed as more than just an empty home.

And I’m aware that I won’t be adding up to more than this anytime soon.


As long as I breathe and words explode from my chest

I feel compelled to speak against everything that I detest,

from the flesh that hangs off these bones

and the smile that comes like an afterthought.

Eyes that deceive and play tricks on unsuspecting guests,

with a face you’d rip to shreds in a reflection’s mocking chatter,

and a heart that crumbles upon feeling a mere gust of wind;

a mind that shouts and screams and tears at the wall I seem to be.


Pay it in a lonely night.

Mark grievances in razor tattoos.

And when it’s washed up and done,

the red cascading down the drain,

nothing’s addressed and nothing is whole.

A body shivers but doesn’t bend,

stuck in a position that will never end

and no hope to ever mend.


When it’s washed up and done,

the self-hatred spelled out so plain,

one word resonates in my brain.


Coward.

Coward.

Coward.

Coward.


And I’m aware that I won’t be adding up to more than this anytime soon.

( ❤ Mitch)

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