Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby

The physical fatigue, the travelling, severe lack of sleep and endless debauchery has finally caught up with me. My body feels used up. I need to rest, I need to let it heal...It's the only thing I have that is truly mine.

Or is it?

So many hands and mouths once I turned twelve, still a child.
My body feels used, defiled.
It's a horrible feeling when you've been fighting to keep this feeling out of your head and yet it all comes back one day, out of nowhere.

I rewind to being fourteen, discovering sex again, pushing myself to face my nightmares so they disappear once and for all. Brave, brave little girl.

I got my first tattoo when I was seventeen-so fierce, cocky almost.
A new person, the strongest you'd see.
And today I feel weak and so vulnerable.
His hands, cruelest I've seen, taking from me what is mine.
I want to scream and tell him that I am only a child.
But I am barely twelve, so defenseless and dumb.
I am unaware of human cruelty, greed, lust.

But it doesn't matter anymore, it's all in the past.
Tomorrow I'll shower and try to scrub him off me again.

My body has experienced much love as well. I will not be a hypocrite.
It has felt the tenderest of kisses and the purest of touch.
Some have been so kind, I am grateful. I keep them in my heart, always.

Maybe in another decade or so I'll realise how strong I have been through it all.
Tonight, however, I wish I had some reassurance from another soul.
Such is life. Yin and Yang.

Sticky Icky Sweat

Summertime, I want to spend it with you.
The heat, the hysteria.
Break down the walls, give yourself.

My body contorts into a lotus flower, blooming only for you.
Don't pluck me just yet.
This youth is still sacred, don't defile it.

Lovers in summer, we twist and turn.
Like the hands of a clock,
There is no concept of time in our dimension.

Make love to me after you're done fucking me.
How else will I remember you otherwise?
Last summer was someone, the next will be someone else.

Morality

There is something in those pair of eyes, I'm drawn to them.

It feels intoxicating, the presence.

But I know I cannot go down that road.

Some boundaries are best left uncrossed.

I have been stupid, frivolous.

And now there is a deep sense of regret.

Maybe time will change things, although my cynicism doesn't allow me to believe.

I will forever crave, they'll stick to their rules.

But I'm stubborn too, for a change.

I need, I need to believe.

Universe, this one's on you. 

Running To Stand Still

As a female artist in a predominantly male industry, Kesha's court ruling is rather heart-breaking and downright scary. Truth is, the law will never be sensitive to a victim of sexual assault. In my own way, I send out a prayer to her through this universe. I hope she gets through it, I hope she finds the strength to fight. I cannot imagine how horrific it must be for someone to have to continue being around one's molester. Life is sometimes cruel, nobody knows why.

The older I grow, the more irrelevant the sexual abuse in my past becomes. Sometimes, actually on months at a stretch, I don't think about it at all. Then there are days when I do, I try to gauge how far I've come since. I refuse to let it define who I am. Although, deep down inside I know it still does, it always will.

The triggers are strange. Most have disappeared over time but it's like a virus. You think you're healed but no, it hits you really hard one day when you're least expecting it.

I've never spoken to him since the last time I met him, as a fully-functional adult aware of one's body and sense to consent to something, but tonight I wonder how he is, where he is. I wonder if he ever thinks about me too.
He probably doesn't, why should he, I was a mere mistake he made in his youth. I wonder if he did with others what he did with me. I hope and pray he didn't.
I have forgiven him. I have forgiven many others who have used my body, who have used my heart. I guess it's easy for me to forgive because the scar he left behind remains the deepest till date.

Meditation keeps me calm, keeps me sane.
I breathe in, I breathe out.
All scars will heal.
All scars will eventually heal.
I tell myself everyday.
It is only a matter of time.



I have fought long and hard for my emancipation, but what about those who are unable to find the strength to do it on their own?
The pain comes back, the feeling of helplessness, being alone and alienated.

Sometimes, human beings can be strangely heartless.
I wish I could be a child forever.
Young, naive, hopeful...so pure, never cruel.

My Wild Heart, My Bad Choices

I'm by the sea, looking at the moon.
I'm thinking about you,
even though I know you aren't thinking of me too.

I join my boys, my moment of solidarity is over.
I drink, I dance, I sing, I laugh.
But before I go to sleep, I think about you,
even though I know you never think of me too.

I blame my luck, I blame my flaws, I blame my inability to tame my heart.
I blame myself, never you.
You don't know me
And it's not like you ever wanted to.

Maybe some day you will think about me, I can only hope.
It's sad to think how something so beautiful can mean nothing to you at all.
All of this technology, yet the distance grows.
You drift away, I wait for you to disappear from my mind completely.
But you never do,
I think about you, I only think about you.

I think about you more often than I'd like to,
I'm in love only because I can't have you.

Dread and Despair

The anticipation of forced sobriety makes me a little bit sick, work is the only thing that'll keep me from turning insane.

But I can survive this, not a big deal.

The downer from all the ecstasy has hit me hard this time. Every day is a slow, painful death. I deserve it, I brought it upon myself. I'm too old to blame the world for my miseries.

I wish you were here, but you are not. So I must do this on my own. Growing up is hard, you're not here and I have to do it all by myself. But god knows I'm trying real hard to not lose my shit.

Sometimes you need to pause and clear your head a little bit, get rid of all that garbage polluting your thoughts.

All in pursuit of salvation, this better be worth it. 

Un Nouveau Soleil

Why can't you dance with me,
with reckless abandon,
like you do when our hips are joined?

Why can't you be sincere,
like when you kiss me?

Fate.
Faith.

Maybe on some night we shall watch the stars together,
like young lovers,
with so much hope in their hearts.

You only need to love me,
there are no other rules.
I would break them all for you.

Keeper of my heart, my sanity, my faith.
My lover, my salvation.

Rattle

And maybe if I keep you in my heart,

Forever you'll stay.

Please don't go away.

I want to make love to you again.

Wait

I walked back home from the death anniversary of a relative today. One of the great Sens, what a character he was. I didn't go for him, I went for myself. I wanted not to mourn his loss but celebrate all the wisdom and great habits he passed down to me, which I will someday pass on to the next lot. But maybe I'll save the story of the Great Sens for another time. It's too long and I'm much too stoned.

School.
Children going to school, returning home from school made me rather envious, a little depressed even. What makes a man great, is it not the love he has to offer? A childlike love? Doesn't his ability to wonder about the world, like a child, make him great?
I try. I try very hard. But it feels like I'm fighting a losing battle against all this instant gratification.
There is no love in our world.

Formless,
Unconditional,
Eternal,
love...

I try to fill the void in my soul with drugs, alcohol, sex. But none of it helps.
No time, in this world of fast cars fast food fast fucks fast highs.

Sometimes I wish I weren't this hopeful. 
The breakdowns have been getting harder to deal with lately.

The highs seem nauseatingly high and lows are gut-wrenching.
There is no escape.
I try to break out, every time but I cannot.

Circumstances.
I have noticed that the more money people have, the less they are able to love. There is a growing irritation that makes me reject them like they are outcasts. But I also feel a deep sense of sorrow, the inability to love can be the most confusing thing for a person.
People who have faced no real tragedy (and I pray to the universe they never do!) and are yet unable to love baffle me. What holds them back? Why can't they learn of unconditional love from a dog? Or their infant selves? Maybe they'll learn someday, their souls are still far too young.
Everything is zen if you put your mind to it.

Goodbyes are hard.
I suck at them.
Goodbyes can be so heart-breakingly sad sometimes. It's alright to cry I guess. It still breaks my heart to think that I never did get a proper chance to say goodbye. Sometimes people just leave. You have to figure it out on your own, without them at that point. Nearly four years later, I'm still in mourning. Knowing that I'll never find that intimacy with anyone else breaks me down.
It still hurts so much.
It still fucking hurts.

Maybe he's waiting for me on the other side. He's watching me as I fall and pick myself up every time. He's watching me as I make my mistakes and win my battles. When I finish my journey of this lifetime, he will be there waiting for me. With all the love he always had to offer. Maybe that is how this will end.
But I don't know.
I don't know anything yet. I am here only to believe.


Why does it always have to be so hard?
I want to believe, so bad, so bad.

This wait is endless.
I'm trying very hard to control myself.
I need a miracle, the signs are not good enough.
I need love, too.

Until Next Time

Feels like I'm making love, although I am not in love with him.
I don't know anymore.
I don't know anymore.
I don't want to know.

I'm strangely sober. I feel good.


Maybe it's this age, maybe it's his body, but I feel endless pleasure on an afternoon again.
Winter is almost gone, so is my melancholy.

Waiting

Downing my whiskey like there's no tomorrow.

But you don't care, you never did.

You're too old.

I'm too too young.

I don't want to get to where you are.

So cruel, so cruel, so cruel.

I don't want to be so cruel when I'm 30 fucking years old.

I want to love. I want to preach love.

Not like you, so jaded.

No games.

I want to live without all these games.

I love.

That's my thing.  

Acceptance

I'm running.

I'm running as fast I can.

But I don't know what I'm running after, running towards.

I'm running.

I'm running away.

The faster I run, the more free I feel.

"The baggage will be gone soon.", I tell myself.

Well, it isn't exactly a lie.

But I'm running in a loop.

There is no beginning and there is no end.

I'm chasing drugs and dreams.

Wired, so fucking wired.

My limbs hurt.

My head hurts.

But my soul hurts the most.

It's exhausting trying to stay sane so I let go.

I show my ugly and I am rather proud of my dark. It makes me who I am.

Winter is almost gone, I want to do it all before it ends.

Soak every moment in like a child.

It's essential to give yourself to someone sometimes or you never grow, never learn. 

I feel the sweat on his body, enjoy our momentary togetherness.

I don't think of another from the past.

It's him that I kiss. There is no baggage.

He's in me, inside me, with me as I transcend to higher ground.

Higher and higher and higher still.

There is no baggage.

Am I free at last?

But it seems to good to be true.

I try not to be a cynic, jaded like the older ones.

Tonight I dance.

I dance like there is no tomorrow.

My feet hurt.

I don't care.

I dance.

I dance to the beat of the drum.

I am no longer ashamed of who I've become.

Touch

You're so soft.
You're so wet.
You're so wild.
You're different.

Tear into me.
Tear me apart.
So I can find myself.

You're so weird.
You're so cold.
You aren't yourself today.

I crave for your body as much as you crave for my heart.
I crave for your heart as much as you crave for my body.
And yet the interests are never quite the same.

One.
And another.
And another.
And another.
Maybe another.

Touch me.
Touch my soul.
And I'll drown you in my love.

That's The Spirit

It's 2 in the morning, we're at Park Street making out like hormonal teenagers. I surprise myself by choosing to go out with him. He's young, like me. All my recent tales have been with slightly older ones, men. But boys are sweet, they don't play games. There's a certain innocence in them which I wish I found attractive. It's dangerous for me to be with them though, I always end up breaking their hearts, although unwillingly.

I enjoy his company. We talk, observe the hundreds (or thousands?) around us and do all sorts of juvenile things. It feels good to be a child again. I want the weight of adulthood and maturity off my shoulders on some nights. 

I still think about him sometimes though. I wonder if I ever cross his mind.

But I know now that I will never be his, he never wanted me as much as he wanted himself, his own adventures. I was never in the picture. There was no space for me in his heart. It was all in my head. But that's alright, you live and you learn.

Sometimes it feels great to be able to kiss somebody without expecting anything in return. You don't want to fall in love, you don't want him to love you. You just want to be kissed and held. 

I've had some strange adventures in 2015, met the most interesting people. I am proud of how far I've come from the wreck that I was in last year. My life isn't all that bad, I'd like to think. 

I have been sticking to my self-imposed rules post erectile-dysfunction man and it's safe to say that although I may be alone, at least I'm not lonely.

So 2015, what a merry Christmas indeed!

Reeling, Rewinding

2015 has gone by rather quickly now that I sit to think about it. I still remember the first day of the year, having sex for the last time with an ex boyfriend who I was in love with at the time. But I knew it was the end for us, he made me orgasm one last time.

My heart broke into a million pieces, I knew I never would be able to heal. I was right. But I carried on nevertheless. With all my strength, I carried on.

Many roads led to many places and many memories. So many. Beautiful souls, beautiful moments, with me now, in my head forever.

But then he came and broke me, another one. Now his face is a blur. The moments are a blur. 

Inconsequential, mediocre. 

And yet he broke me down, he did and how.

I've lost myself in other lovers since. 

It doesn't help, only makes me hate myself more.

Binge. Binge. Binge.

I've been nailed to this crucifix.

The consequence of my death cannot be so inspid. 

I want to share, spread all this love that I have inside of me.

If I go would you miss me?

Would you ever think of me?

You're the pretty boy who's so cool. 

You're the exotic one.

You're the friend.

You're the boy who's obsessed with me.

You're the man who drives me insane.

They all drive me insane. 

I want to heal them all.

The good souls, only slightly misguided.

Being alone, being lonely.

The yin and the yang.

It makes perfect sense, I know now.

Dear Suzette,

Life is not easy when you're a woman, navigating through this dark tunnel where danger awaits you at every step. But you filled me with so much hope. You refused to let your tragedies define who you were. You were always a survivor, never a victim. 

All my life I've tried to look for the good in people, even though they have only shown me their dark. People do cruel things sometimes. I don't know why, but they do. I guess humans are cruel creatures. They become cruel in their drive to survive it all.

But you were everything I've always admired in a woman. You were a role model for young girls, teaching them grace and strength during times of extreme turbulence.

I've grown up believing in the power of balance, believing that's the way this universe works. But where is the balance this time? Where is the justice?

You fought like a brave, you fought hard, till your last breath. I cried myself to sleep the day you passed away. I cried like I would if I lost a loved one. I cried even though I did not know you at all. I prayed to the universe for justice, just that. 

Today, when I read about how the main suspect is still absconding, I couldn't understand why people were rejoicing because you finally got "your justice".

How is it justice when the men who stole your soul are allowed to live on earth? How is it justice when the media merely used you for their profit and dropped you as soon as you weren't a "trending topic" anymore? How is it justice when the primary accused still roams free? How is it justice if you're dead?

Maybe the world doesn't deserve people like you, you're too good for this world, this species. Maybe your justice was your death, your endless peace.

I feel broken.

I feel broken beyond repair at this point. All my ideals are falling apart and there's nothing I can do but live through it all, build an impenetrable wall around me so I'm safe forever.

When it gets too lonely, I'll sink into my abyss with music to keep me company. But I don't know for how long. I'm only 24, I wish I wasn't this jaded. 

Love,

S.

Bad Days, Worst Days

Where are you when I need you?
I try to find you in his eyes when he looks at me.
There is no kindness.
There is no admiration.
He doesn't even want me. I could be just about anybody.

I can't sleep. I keep picturing his face and how it changes as the heartache kicks in.
I break his heart because I've had mine broken.
My beautiful, innocent boy.
He is starting to fall in love with me, he says.
And here I am, running away, when all my life when I've looked for someone to love me.
Instead of running to him, I'm imposing myself on someone who doesn't want me.

I can feel my soul dying every single day.
Is this what growing up really feels like?

I get hurt if I don't grow, I hurt myself when I do.
Everything is a loop, only the form changes with time.

A young boy broke me over a decade ago.
But I've been broken again and again since.
I'm stupid, what else can I possibly say...

I lie when I tell them they're the best,
I don't want their souls as much as they want my body.