Invasion of the Mind

He came into my room abruptly. He grabbed my paper and pen, and looked at me questionably.

"How dare you barge into my private quarters, invading my thoughts. I looked up from the empty space whence my items of solitude were stolen. I looked into the face of my attacker delirious with rage and invincible spirit.

"I will take these," he said simply turning on his heels to depart as if he had won.
"Cocky!" aren't we I replied clenching my teeth.
"Get some sleep." he whispered over his shoulder disregarding the sheer warning of explosion. Without warning I leaped onto his back, scratching the meat from his bone.

Angrily, he flung me from my clawing and slung me onto the bed. I would stand and face my attacker. I threw my legs and arms into a windmill of terror beating him about the head and shoulders. I hit him hard in the face, yelling obsenitys and foul slurs.

"You have raped me for the last time. you can't keep me from my most precious love. The words on these pages may creep during the night; and murder you while you sleep. I'm not afraid of you. I have overcome the troubles of my heart. You may not be so lucky."

"I command my words to slay you where you stand. No more will you deface me. Spew my hidden thoughts to the public, and force me to counsel. I will prey on your soul with my vudo pen, writing your sins on your face for the world to see."

"You are just as I, human with odd feelings. Some of which I may regret, but shall not repress. Your are the one in which should seek the comfy whites of a cell and a cot for living a lie. You live in the dark, hosting many closets as I don't waste time with frivilous things."

"Speaking the thoughts of my mind may not always be appropriate, but my pen and pad will tell it all. TICKING NOW..., You have opened the doors to my wrath, slithering invading the pages of my diary, stealing my secrets."

I lowered my eyes and pointed at him with conviction and authority, "I say to you once and only once. This I say. I will spare you, and forget this moment of ignorance you so displayed; but never again will you be allowed to leave these enclosed walls without the damnation of your soul, becoming a vivid reality.

The Bomb in my hands is ticking. You may find that I have past it onto you, and it has crept into your bed.

The Cutter

I am hiding. The world can see me, all of me. My sins are written down my arms and legs and they are bleeding. I am afraid that someone will ask me if I am ok. Or if I am crazy. I retreat behind closed doors with only my needles, and other sharp objects. I cut to kill the pain. It hurts as it bleeds and the sensation feels good. I hide the marks under my sleeves, and I wipe the blades clean. No one will see or ever know not even me. I avoid the mirror. It has a frightful thing. I don't see me. The mirror reveals hidden emotions behind the glass. I can see demons playing in my hair, when I look into my reflection. I won't let them take me. They want my soul. 

Ticking...

I can't tell any longer what the sensations of my heart are. They used to be on my sleeve. Hard to miss. I could see far ahead in my future and plan for things, events. Love came easy and with ease life was great. It was a new day and beginning that I welcomed, as I did the sun.

Writing has become my great cure for this unhopefullness, and fulfilled my urge to hurt others as I hurt inside. The time is now, to unleash my grief.

From Time to Time...

From time to time,
My curiosity turns in to anxiety,
My anxiety turns into sadness,
My sadness to fear.
From time to time,
Depression provoke anger,
My anger becomes rage.
From time to time,
Pain opens my skin,
And questioning throw's salt in my wounds.
From time to time,
My tantrums erupt while lying on a cold tile floor.
Tears fall from my broken soul,
which leads to the confession of sin,
Through small chanting of prayer.
From time to time,
I fail at the goals that I attempt,
and gain a new life experience.
From time to time,
I loose sight of what I am to become,
I loose faith.
Tick!

Anxiety Attack

I'm sitting in the back of our family car, when I realized I was experiencing shortness of breath. At first, I coached myself, "Saying everything was fine, just take short breaths breating in slow and exhaling calmly." But, unfortunately my mind and body don't always agree. Surely, I began to panic. I grabbed my briefcase frantically, hoping to find a bottle of water or a pain pill. I started to hypervenilate, scream, cry, and drag myself across the floor to the car. Then BAM! Its over.

Conflicting Emotions

I don't sleep much.
I find solice in the comfort of my small apartment.

I look forward to television programs and writing about things I wish could happen.
What kind of life is that?
I'm depressed,
often angry,
But grateful to be alive.
I am blessed to have use of my arms and legs.
My speech is coming back.
Though I am suffering from impaired vision,
I refuse to wear eye glasses.
So I ask,
And I pleed.
Damn it!
I scream.
What do you want from me?
These emotions of mine,
Make me bleed.
I'm trying to live this life.
I need help.
I give up you win.

A Bomb in my Hands

My mind is raising.
The days pass abruptly.
Life spins away and I remain still.
My legs feel numb, as if I am paralyzed from the waist down.
My mind reaches out to reality,
in hopes to draw my physical form forward.
There is a resistance.
Its as if my mind has taken over my motor skills.
I'm dragging my feet in the sand,
While a replica of myself tries to pull me to safety.
I become afraid, torn from my indendent self.
I am locked in the confines fo m small box apartment.
With only the tools of a pen and pad.