No, God No

No, God No

Perfectly written words to represent how she feels gone, erased, typed out raw thoughts Thanos snapped away in a blink, as if they were never real.

A new kind of pain washes over her, frustrated thumbs poking down something different because of one little slip of a button; Forever dead and gone are the thoughts she originally desired to share.

Once wearing the mask of a depressed jester, now adorning the face of a pissed off poet, upset over the unsaved thoughts plucked from a heartfelt brain of misery, planting seeds of unsavory anger into the gardens of the Internet instead; Tears of aggravation.

She's a goddamn fool for wanting to let her emotions naturally guide the flow of her work, a fucking moron whose illustrations and reflections have been refreshed off her screen, vanishing into the void of forgotten blurs.

"I can't believe you've done this."

Truly, she can not.

Sighing in disbelief over a fear, something she thought was silly to be afraid of happening, stupidly lucky once, her ass was saved one time and she mistakingly took it for granted instead of as a warning of what would come to never be if she was not careful; A lesson through accidents.

Forever no more, her unfinished poem of truthful thoughts that were stripped away of the meat that gave it life, shall now lay rest in the graveyard of Drafts, never to be touched again; Endlessly mourned bones of what could have been.

Another tack to add onto her list of regrets, never forgetting to kick herself down over this large L she never meant to bite into; Another thought to keep her awake at night.

She loved you which is why she is so upset over your disappearence, you were beautiful and meant the world to her, in her teary eyes you had a bright future ahead of you; Suddenly, no one.

I will never be able to re-create nor replicate the masterpiece that was you, my love.

- Autumn(Me)

A Game Of Eye Contact

Nervously, her eyes avert from looking your way, only gifted a sliver of a glimpse as you turn away from her; Liking what I don't see.

She is terrified of starting the game, locking eyes with a beautiful stranger, what happens when you win?

Who is the prize?

A rush of red hot panic blares through her eagerly frantic system as she tries to calculate every possible repercussion; Overthinking, her best attribute.

Her gears creak and screech, overrun and burnt, as her imagination swims in a sweaty pool of fictional scenarios; Chaotically disorganized, the awkward-shy-ambiverted Daydreamer drifts.

Confused by the back and forth notes passed between her plump form and jittery spirit, she displays the oddest cues and signs, the air between the two players becoming unreadable; Mixed Messages.

Are they even playing?

Is she in or out?

(Internal Questions and Fears).

Her mind is unable to apply it's make-up, where is it to even begin, what will it wear?

As tempted as she may be by the gentle Pink Boy of Flowers, Hesitancy is quick to stop the weird Turquoise Beast from running along to play in the field of soft spoken lilies; Considering the odds from every single angle, a few more times.

The hopeless romantic fidgets above the buttons, timid-antsy-inexperienced fingers dance along the colorful knobs, her quarter moist and warm as it rests in her anxious little palms, brown marbles rake over the flashing arcade machine screen; "Push start to begin."

- Autumn(Me)

An Unspoken Secret Yearning To Escape

There are words resting in my throat, choking me, wanting to be let out.

I'm scared of the aftermath that will come if I raise the volume of my thoughts; Purposefully unplugging my earbuds to let you all hear for yourselves.

What if you leave me?

What if you hear my disgusting thoughts and think me an ass?

You take each shakey pitch with venom as you clog up your eardrums; Perfectly placed cotton swabs.

If I don't speak up, I fear the worst, I teeter on the seesaw of internal death, the death of us.

But what if I said it all and things changed, it brings us closer, maybe carving open my mind wouldn't be so bad?

But I'm petrified that you're going to yell and take everything side ways, that you will think it all to be blame and slander; "A huge slap in the face to everything you've ever done for me, for us."

I hate bottling everything up in fear, I too am a hoarder, one of a different nature.

I just truly don't know how to fix us, I know there's a way, I just don't know which wire is the right one; Which one will cause us not to blow up and die?

I'm a coward who doesn't want to be the one to do it, to cut the wire that could help us heal, together.

My chest caves in at the thought of being abandoned for unshedding my tears; Opening up years of bottled anguish.

I'm just so tired, it hurts to see everyone suffering around me on mute, and I honestly don't like the thoughts that have been dashing around my head, they hold a knife up to my existence and whisper awful things; A twisted way of coping and solving everything.

What do I do, what do I say?

How do I keep us all together without you walking off into your mountainous forest of solitude?

Silently I weep at the thought of our band finally breaking up, each member angrily heading off in a different direction, walking home the true family way; Sitting alone in a quiet garage of abandoned-dusty-unique instruments.

Through tears I let the gentle melodies of our songs wash over me, it's torture to listen to my favorite hits alone, each memory bouncing off the lonely walls of my heart.

We don't need to crack and float away, there is no need to become Pangaea; Wait, just wait, I swear there's glue in this drawer or maybe...it's this one?

Will I raise the volume to my wellkept thoughts?

Clear my throat, raise my head up high, fixing my posture(for once), looking you each in your intimidating marbles, 3 pairs of brown and the lil odd man with the beautiful green orbs dancing in a mixture of many lovely shades, and release a tiny roar for your huge four-finger-lengthed foreheads to acknowledge?

No.

No, I will not be doing any of that, at least not with my voice, for my skills in writing far exceed the ones in speaking; Written material from the fierce-short-inner Centaur smoothly typed out as her tongue undoes a multitude of knots.

I spill to you this, my droplets of truth; A taste of the secret feelings I have imprisoned inside the dark shelves holding a fine collection of tightly sealed bottles within my heaving lungs.

Told to you through the freeing art of poetry; The Centaur is shy, having little experience in the domain of sharing and talking about the arrows currently kissing her skin, they've rested there for years, the blood has dried and dipped into her unwashed pores.

I am lost, searching for the safest way to pick out the splinters we have rooted deep within our skin; She doesn't know what to do, panicking under this overwhelming presence of frosty distance, stressful tears brimming the corners of her eyes.

How do I fix this?

Will sharing any of this help?

There are words scratching on the gummy insides of my throbbing neck, screeching to be freed, wanting to mix and mingle with the sounds of life, it kicks and strangles me, turning me green and blue, for I wish to vomit them loose on the carpet of our home, but I'm scared of the mess it shall truly make if I were to yack it all up for once.

- Autumn(Me)

Fake Laughter

Words are like punches, fists of heavy stone plummeting down deep onto my heart; Delicious pinkish-red, blue veined pancake.

She has the tendency to let them knock her down hard, bawling up in an aura of despair; Sensitive tears spilled upon her pale-brown cheeks throughout her whole existence.

Unable to control the way it torments her inner sticky cavities, she cries in pain and guilt.

A burning dark pit forms in the center of her chest, making her want to vanish, never to have existed, undo any wrong she has caused, shrivel up from life and the confusing feelings that leave her soul spinning as it twists and snaps; Dwelling on every little thing.

Her tiny brain is an ugly-nasty-bitter-gray-mattered-self-conscious-conniving bitch, who holds onto every sentence that has ever forced it's way through her emotional chambers; Spiteful organ of control.

Betraying eyes reveal the way you've carved in with venomous vocable, as she beats you until you're physically hurt, an array of purple-red-black-and-blue, the only pain that she knows how to administer to recover from her mental bruising; Emotional loss.

Crumbling down, making a huge mess on the counter, a chipped baby, cracked up cookie sinking down low in the tall milk glass of criticism, pathetically crying, disintegratingly soaked; Did the mouse ask for a side of stricture as well?

She apologizes for her obstreperous heaving, as she ignores the pit that tugs on the string of her gushing-gooey-leaky guts; The thin tethering strand that yanks up insides from an achy-retched-endearing place called "Love."

- Autumn(Me)

Pull Me Another

Wobbly resting in her pink slimy gingiva, a snake slithers by crooked teeth, sliding over the thin line that keeps them hooked in and from falling free; Oh, how she aches and yearns to be torn straight out.

The unexplainable urge to disconnect each one from inflamed gums itches through her short slender phalanges, it would appear this disturbing odd compulsion has beaten her sound normal logic; Impulse running wild.

Her hand intrudes upon her crowded mouth, slowly pulling out cavity infested molars, one rotten dental tissue at a time, a sticky icky suctioning pop as each little tooth detaches with ease, unhooked at last; Loosely stressed and dreaming.

Licking up the metallic ooze, as my tongue glides over the wounds, delighted yet frightened by the aftermath of curious fingers fiddling around with limp wiggly smile bones; Is this real?

What has she done?

A horrified tongue dribbled with regret rakes over her strange craving of work, dipping into the bloody holes and the leftover shards of what used to carry and be her uneven grin; They’ll grow back, right?

-Autumn(Me)

Dipping Into Restless Stupor

Every part of my body is frozen except for my Brain, slowly it comes to the realization that only half of us are awake, a panic builds its way through my system as stress begins to settle in; Sleep Paralysis, again.

Doing it's best, she tries to get everyone else to rise from their slumber, for what if she is the only one awake for the rest of their existence, what happens if the other members of this body don't get back up, would anyone on the outside of this begrudgingly resting form know of this motionless dilemma?

Looking around through closed eyes there are no demons glowering at her still feet, just the darkness hugging tighter as she begins to sweat, trying with all her muster to get any limb that she can to move an inch, any sign of life to ease her out of sleep; The true frightful sight.

It's very slow as rock like limbs do their best to glide across the sheets, each muscle taking their sweet time to untighten as they spark back to life, sluggishly fighting against the powerful tugs of slumber as she forces her body up, eyes dryly burning to return back to the land of dreams and subconscious thoughts that sneak their way inside; The true battle begins.

Without realizing it, her body slips back into the comforting yet fuzzy haze that leaves her Brain in a chaotic frenzy of fear, dragging each stem of creaky sweaty joints at an agonizingly listless pace, hyper focused and strangely aware of the empty blackness she resides in, feeling like an eternity while she finally pulls out of the dreary-warm-night-starry sludge with all of her might one last time; An accidental slip of consciousness.

- Autumn(Me)

09/20/2024