Author: Porcupine

Publicly private poetry of an anxious girl.

tortoise

my house has always been an empty shell

one which if you retreat into, you’ll be alone

outgrowing dysfunction is impossible when it is permanently attached to your back

 

anxiety attack #2

my brain is at war with my soul.

with a cavalry of thoughts 

and a heart beat that catapults 

me into destruction –

my body is the battleground.

muscles tensed for attack,

eyes bruised, sleepless nights

exposed ribs, chest tight,

Heart beat catapults, 

quickly,

quickly,

 

I cannot take cover from myself. 

From the soldiers I’ve created 

who kill everyone I love, 

From the weapons I’ve built

which shoot me down 

until the white flag

I carry is drowned 

with blood.

 –

my brain is winning 

house

i feel homesick in my body.

my soul longs for something 

I don’t even know exists.

it’s as if my heart beats just 

to push me forward –

to this place – 

I belong.

faith 

“Just believe,” says my mother,

I feel my heart break further.

I struggle to convey the emptiness I feel,

the canyons inside of me 

and the lack of soul to save, to heal.

I cry instead and try to pray,

longing for the hope I once felt,

the peace.

God, please help me.

harlot pt 2

i seek love in the arms of strange men,

each touch trailing every part of me that you chose to leave.

i wonder if you’d stayed,

would I be able to understand love?

would I be able to feel it?

archaeology

I wanted you to know me,

so I cracked my chest open 

for your hands to feel the words 

engraved on my ribs, 

ivory secrets, 

the purest version.

You laughed 

and I finally understood the laws of impact

as I caved in on myself, 

rubble.

this is not a pipe

you make me wish I was better at creating images with paint and pencils, instead of metaphors.

I need a canvas on which I can drown my thoughts of you, spilled paints, blending hues of love and sadness. 

you are art –

abstract and fragmented,

and I find myself struggling to piece you together.