" pai "

"i miss you

i guess that i should"

(counting crows, raining in baltimore)

..



morning becomes dark and empty as i wake up to the day

to find the scratched hands and words

that have lost you along the way



would you have stayed if i'd dreamt harder?

could you have had another try?


in dreams reality is kind

and pain no more than a sigh





..













today only i will be a child,

with no possible time lapse

no shame or masked fears




- i miss you always beyond this silence


this trail of memories


this blood of tears












...

("day comes up sicker than a cat
something's wrong that is that

mr. somewhere missing somewhere
never did figure just how much

a boat from the river takes you out
'cross the other side of town, to get out, to get out
you take the tide, any tide, any tide
like there isn't gonna be any tide

mr. somewhere missing somewhere
never did figure just how much
missing somewhere
never did figure just how much

a world like tomorrow wears things out
it's hard enough to get what's yours for now
and the hardest words are spoken softly
softly look, no hands upon

nr. somewhere missing somewhere
never did figure just how much
missing somewhere
never did figure just how much

now the milkman beats you to the door
that was once a home, home no more

mr. somewhere, missing somewhere
couldn't get the calendar to stop
missing somewhere,
never did figure just how much
missing somewhere,
never will admit just how much ")

..











(image by unknown author, sadly.)

(in) alice's pain

.

suicide watch is an intensive monitoring process used to ensure that an individual does not commit suicide.

.








..





i was sitting close to her, a seat between us, my hand reaching past it, over her shoulder, cuddling her till where my fingers could reach, wanting almost to go through her skin and reach inside, deep where the voices i could not hear shouted at her, voices no one could imagine, voices that would deafen her speech and mute her hearing;
and so the touch, the attempt of the touch, the touch desperate to reach inside, inside until my hands covered the mouth of those unfair and lying voices that pushed that firey-alice into the deepest hole in her,
away from everything,
from everyone,
away from everything that is
life
in life.



















" you see..




i wasn't supposed to be alive by friday......"
























she said it in a whisper,

knowing what is certain,

with no path to return.






















and i had vertigo of her planned death.



































...








she spoke through the crying that torn her breathing apart,
as if nothing left inside but the black of all her immense colours, that darkness of sharpened knives and swallowed pills
that lingered across years of injustice, hidden love, discouragement.


and i thought
i thought
that it isn't fair.


the scales becoming more and more uneven
everyday
without us knowing,
without us knowing the weight of every hour.

the weight of not recognizing oneself.

of losing
everything
one is.



so tempting, just letting go.....












before my eyes she fell, and i knew she fell with her eyes closed, clenched as fists, and thus let herself go, not speaking to anyone, not even looking at us anymore, nothing of her but that little girl's body abandoned by herself and that quiet, chocking, painful cry,
that contaminated my blood with sadness and anger.


unthinkable not to hold the hands of one who carries in them their own present and raise them until they see, know, feel everything that is, can be, always, everyday, every minute, still, always, life.


i wanted to shake her and say stop, stop the voices, stop everything that's tormenting you, dive out of yourself if you need to because we'll catch you,
we will catch you,
just don't go.
not like this.
not before so much of you.


but she was just a little girl, curled up in herself,
tiny tiny,
tiny with fear and so grown up with pain...



scared to break her, almost...
as if a bird with broken wings.

with nowhere to fly to.

but,
still,
each moment...

the healing.

every
single
little
moment...

now.





in the quietness of the night, she slept as one who surrenders to the rest of the arms of a home, a friend, a shelter.

in the tender light of day she held my hand and took me through her labyrinth of trees, all tangled in rusty knots of dark memories and flowers left to die by their own negligence,
and through the mist of fear i could see she looked this way.
at us.
inside.
from the distance.
she looked.


and we had to make her see.




so we told her of the lights that brighten the day,
the candles that go out so that it can come,
the night that rests, tranquilizes, pacifies...


let it come, peaceful.

and may the day be gentle on you..
everyday.

..


let it.











what we think is only that,


a thought we allow to be.







life at its full is a sunset




a hand held in the dark




the sea.














..










(image by john tenniel)