Flowers in My Mind

I have a garden of hungry and inspirited flowers in my subconscious mind.

It varies in color and contains the scent of dusty books with ripped pages that hide in the shadows for years

and the fragrance of a bee keepers farm in the warm summer

my thoughts are clipping away my own capability to bloom

I have roots that grow down my wilted spine

With thorns digging out of my muddy ribs

I struggle from the growth

I can’t help but realize that I've misplaced all hope in the sharp edges that I can’t quite grasp

I wasn’t able to look agony in the eyes

but I felt it’s words

Its Words that make me Rot

I waist away

I perish

To have the ambition to do but only the thought that I’m not

These words are all in my head making the garden turn backwards into seeds with no bed

But I am so sorry

Sorry that I’m not

Not even near good enough

Not ever looking forward due to lost chaos left behind

Not sleeping because nights provide too many thoughts that lay on stained pillows

And too much time that feeds on my mind

Not able to, not going to

Knots in my throat

Knots tied around my wrists

And bricks saddled onto my feet

As I bathe in wet cement

Waiting

Waiting for change

Till my limbs forget their worth

And my mind has accepted failure way before it tells my body to navigate

Keeping me captive in the mess of my own doing

The hole of my own digging

I am still, just sitting as I inhale fear

Just Existing.

But I am far from living

Losing the light of the throbbing sun that has introduced me to Warmth

I’m becoming so..

So

dull.

I have become as cold as the hidden bodies stored in the freezer of a killers basement

now I can’t watch the sunset outside my window

To see it set

again

And rise again

And set and rise and set and rise

I’ve missed weeks of the suns wake

Such a beautiful thing to partake

But I’m unable to eradicate through the thick cement

I've just laid there lifelessly to watch it dry

Because I was too exhausted to do anything else but to watch my body rot into stillness

as it’s wet was able to depart

As soft becomes hard

As I should, I could

but I can’t

I’m afraid to

To live, to move, to breathe

my butterflies have been traded

for broken glass in return

I am growing but I am still so small

And my roots have been dug so deep into the most forbidden places

I have been watered with numerous anchors and stones as big as my heart

And expected to rise right after gravity decided to become my enemy

I am so

Heavy

I fear the dark so I have made the decision to glue my eyes shut

I’m afraid to see nothing although that’s all I’ve ever allowed

Nothing

Sadly with closed eyes, pitch darkness is all I’ll ever see

But fear is so familiar like the warm hospitality of my grandmother's home as she cooked her heart out for the people she loved

familiarity is so comfortable and welcoming

But it can be an awfully deadly weapon and something that you will always need to keep close to you.