The Sister in Me

I have a sister in me. A twin.

I never saw her before today.

She looks just like me. Spitting image.

But she’s wiser, less impulsive.

Kind smile, no judgement.

She hugs me and says, “It’s all going to be okay,

don’t get hung up on the past, it doesn’t matter anymore, really”.

No words leave her mouth, but I can translate.

I can read her mind because we’re the same.

Sometimes it just takes some deep thought and concentration

to break through our own mental, metal barriers

unknowingly created by ourselves

to protect and survive.

Although sometimes shields are double-edged swords in disguise.

If you just let it happen, it’s not that hard to

pull it out of the stone.

the message no one wants to hear

it’s like no one cares

so why try?

gravity is sitting on me today.

you’d find it hard it believe.

and it’s so easy to disassociate

who you think I am

with what I’m feeling now.

so go ahead.

the only truth is your own view.

it’s completely subjective.

and it hurts –

life, giving life, being life.

I’m afraid to stop trying

because what if I miss out

on something great?

it’s this stupid fucked up idea

that I think I can change you,

think I can help.

and I want to do that – all of it.

but I fumble with the words,

unsteady hands,

trying to smile and look brave.

it all feels alien today.

I want to be that genius kid.

I want to prove you all wrong.

I want to surprise you in the best way.

it’s the message no one wants to hear.

it’s the tears I keep bottled up ’til they burst.

I’m embarrassed by it.

but if I were to tell you, you’d never believe me.

it’d sound fake. it’d sound like I’m making it up

but I’m not. I swear it.

it’s these moments strength is a weakness.

I just want to mean something to someone,

to anyone. Not beg for the attention.

because that’s so messed up.

it doesn’t work that way.

it feels like plastic and gloss.

I am the lioness in the tall grass –

unseen, but seeing everything.

but when it comes to me it’s all cloudy

like the weather in real time.

accurate metaphors.

those are the best kind.

because in this information age

feeling is all we have.

It may be swayed and manipulated

and faked and flipped off,

but they can never take away the essence –

the exploding electrons, sparking nerve endings

shooting up

fireworks to the limbic system

at arousal, at anger, at absolute serenity.

so this is my new thing:

having my fingers do the talking on an impossible wednesday night

(sign language, type language)

nothing leaves my mouth and I can make mistakes and you would never know it

because I just press backspace and the white is clear and pristine as before.

I like it ’cause it’s not real. It’s not really how it is outside the screen.

here it’s all square, all perfect.

and for a moment it all seems beautiful, all seems okay.

but I still have what they can’t take away from me.

it can’t be fixed. I’m stuck with it.

I can’t amputate the shitty feeling that’s weighing me down this evening.

I bring the sideways L to my temple and bend the thumb down

in jest, in play, pretending to restart and start over.

games are so misleading. they always are.

huxleyhuxleyhuxley,

you have scarred me for life.

pop rock heart

if you cut open my chest

and put pop rocks on my heart

i think it would tingle nice |

cover the whole thing

in crystalline sugar gems

good enough to eat |

when I’m all patched up

i’ll rise, they’ll fall

throughout my body

dip into my bloodstream maybe

being sucked up like black holes |

pixie stick through my nose

as a fifteen year old

all i got was a cold |

kool aid smoke

hit my brain

I got angry then |

it’s all i have

it’s all i want

it’s all i know |||