Thought Box

I took a walk… (Short Poem) 

I took a walk mid watching ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ for the 3rd time, to ease a sudden panic attack. I thought perhaps I was responding to the movie and the rather sad story, but as soon as I picked up my phone all I could think to write was…

For each breathless, chest clenching and heart wretching anxiety attack I suffered at the memory of the hurt you generously supplied to me.

 For the days when my legs failed to carry me out of these four walls that suffocate me because the pins and needles had almost become visible.

 For the tears I watched my mother shed because her heart bleeds when my skin breaks.

 For the humiliation of giggly girls and boys who aged only in years and inflate your ego with falacies.

 For the days when I forgot how to pray… I hope I learn to forgive. 
I pray to forget 

Advertisements
Standard
Thought Box

Exhale (Poetry)

​I need to exhale. 

The time has seen me turn black and blue from the poison infiltrating my lungs that I refuse to spit out. I can not breathe. 

I am ashamed of failures I did not instigate or carry through. I am a victim who over time has learned to victimise. I now know how to suffocate you.

I am built to withstand the stakes darted at the lungs of my core being, but perhaps my manufacturer forgot the final piece.

I no longer feel but see the air oozing out. Left empty, there is nothing left to pick up the bicycle patch that could extend my survival. 

I have been ridden. A bicycle has seen more care. Like a horse and then like a dog used to fight for small change. I have been tossed aside and flicked out of my own space and reality to gather the pieces of me with the hands that were bitten and chewed by those who said that they love me.

I can’t blame those who take pride in the multiple punctures they have inflicted. Two punctures left a hole big enough for human life to seep through me. I partly blame myself. I saw the sharp edge. I felt it carress me. I remember the first time it grazed me. Of course it would crave depth.

I am not yellow. My color is off putting. So why not deflate what you have come to fear simply at a glance. 

Peirce me.

Poke me.

Plunge into me.
Slit my throat and quicken the torment. Maybe when my blood flows my color will turn to red. Even if it is for but a moment.
I want to breathe. I want to be the time keeper to an open heart that craves only me and not my death. 

I have been holding this evil in… inside my being. 
Where is the pen and paper? Where is bag of change? 
I need to exhale. 

Mathunzi Macdonald 

Standard