Words…..Tw?…sh/si/sa?

[Mary Ann]

There are no words for how this feels,
Which is strange when words were my life.
I was the kid who read too much, too earnestly
I spilled my thoughts onto cheap lined paper
To have them rummaged through, picked at and used against me
My thoughts felt dangerous, in those senseless hands
A weapon of my own making. Clear evidence of my crime.

There are no words for how this feels
Or none that come close to do justice
Justice? What for! They did nothing wrong, it was me!
My head is revving up, as tender as a chainsaw
And I can't find the off switch, never could!
The only words left to me now
Are corrosive, ugly destructive ones
Turned in against myself as always
I'm eviscerated by my own thoughts

There are no words for how this feels
Strange when I delve into the past to my teens
When I'd hide in my head, behind a curtain of silence
Build a fortress of words, so no one came near
And I cringe looking back at the curly haired kid
Chattering with a weird, fixed desperation,
Trying to entertain people, or distract
Hoping it would be enough...it never was and I hate her for it.

There are no words for how this feels
Or the ones that I have don't seem adequate
For a childhood that was more wasteland than landscape
And people are exotic creatures, even now,
To be viewed with caution, from a distance
Still needed, longed for, but feared
I remember the past, in huge sick feeling technicolour
So grotty I want to cover my face
The present is a gray, nebulous nasty with no name
No words for it...or none that I'd choose.

When there were no words for how this felt
I did the only things I felt left open to me
I fantasised about and anticipated death
Like booking a fortnight in Italy.
I would die as I'd lived, causing trouble to no one.
Lacking courage for that, I banged my head against walls
In despair, frustration, and something darker I couldn't name.
I starved and diminished, grew less, but the pain never did.
Sat wrapped in a towel, gripped the white dimpled skin
Stroked the wafer thin blade across and I marvelled
At the bright ruby beads, iron scented
Spilling and rolling like ripe pomegranate seed
Deep enough to feel, not enough to scar..to much
The nebulous gray nasty with no name
Focused sharply into three stinging crimson lines
Another secret in silence that feels good but shouldn't
They say there's comfort in the familiar.

There were no words for how it felt
When my hips and back and jaw were stiff,
And my body sore and muscles tense
From sex I didn't know the name for, or say yes to
Only a dark, heavy..shaky feeling
That made me move carefully, not meet peoples eye
Cry quietly, in private unheard, unseen
With thoughts like grenades, hidden in my head
Waiting to detonate out of sight, hurting no one but me.

This silence was like some devilish investment,
And it's paying dividends now
In feelings I can't name that swamp and overwhelm me
Inevitable and scary as brown envelopes in the letterbox
And things get more complicated, more frightening not less
The sad thing was, I always had the words
And words are powerful If your allowed to use them
I had plenty of words, that strange little kid
But there was no one I could tell, or who would listen.

[woodsgnome]

They didn't hear you, but we do ... that familiar silent fear we all have experienced one way or another, or several ways.

Words never fully can express it ... none exist that can describe these depths of pain. No one can fix them, even if words could somehow serve to open up understanding.

Maybe the silent spaces between the words can work to soothe a little. That's where I look, sometimes ... in those spaces lies the hope that if they were filled, maybe someone would understand. Except -- not the people who should have, who meant the most, who didn't hear the first time, and won't ever.

Already too many words from me. So, no more. Except these other symbols, maybe ...      and, if it's okay -- 

[rainydiary]

I appreciate you sharing this.