I know You Love Me

I am made of memories

A collection of recollections bundled up inside a ball of anxiety and fear

Someone who wants nothing more than to forget what's wrong with them

So much so that the light that escapes cannot be caught

Hold me tight and pray with me

Close your eyes and see the demons with me

Reach your hand out and touch them as touch them

These are not just thoughts and those are not just words

This isn't anxiety like you know it, like the doctors know it

That isn't depression like the others see it, like I see it

It isn't just any other illness; it is Epidemic and not even the best can isolate and destroy it

Epidemic that doesn't come with a cough, or a fever, an upset stomach, a headache

There are no symptoms, there are no medicines, there are no treatments, there are no cures

Can't you HEAR ME?!?! NO. CURE.

Stop asking me questions like you can help

The demons are very. Real.

And they play in the shadows of every corner of your home, my home, this home

This rotting pile of wood and brick and tile and siding

Tell me, have you ever held the Devil's hand? Played tooth-tag with Cerberus?

Have you ever cried out for God so desperately that your vocal cords might just burst?

Only to receive nothing for an answer?

Only to be so swept up in the silence that the demons descend upon you

Breaking the deafening silence with their deafening screams?

There's nowhere for me to run, there never was.

I thought if I ignored it, I could escape it, I could hide, I could be free

Answerless, I wander aimlessly, wanting, waiting, watching

And I pray to the God that never answered me and I ask him for forgiveness.

I ask HIM to forgive ME for MY sins against HIM because I wanted to KNOW

I wanted a REASON for the suffering I'VE endured, and I said SORRY to HIM

I breathe

And in a moment of quiet, not the silence, I hate the silence, I would close my eyes

I would drift away ever so slowly and free myself in a warm darkness

And for that moment, all was right

The spirits, the demons, the shadows, the soul collectors, the counters, the creatures were gone

But the light behind my eyes glows a deep, dark purple, and the spaces in my mind fill with smoke

And there they stand, all of them together, legions upon legions. Marching together they chant

And they speak in tongues long forgotten by men, so old that only the Earth may know what they say

And the Earth cries out "Children, listen! They prepare, they wait, they march, they gather!" And you are all deaf.

I feel fire on my arms and open my eyes to stare into the Pit

Next to me stands my Guide and he asks, "What do you want to see?" And foolishly I answer

"Everything."

I have been dragged here, alone, unwitting, and I hold tightly to a memory of the Earth above me

But my sick mind calls into the Abyss and the Abyss answers "Come, see."

These souls, tortured in their time, tortured for their time, tortured until the end of time.

I see blood that no longer knows a vein, bone that no longer knows marrow, flesh that no longer knows a body

And these are people, these are not the demons that haunt my waking moments

And somewhere there is screaming and crying

You think this is all I see behind my eyelids? No, children, this is a mild description

I've seen all the ways I will die, the ways that those I love will die, and all the hate that men hold in their hearts

I've been torn to pieces and to shreds

I have watched the spirit of my love leave his body after an impact like a freight train

I saw him get up and leave as his body laid there cold on the pavement

I watched my father teach my brother to suck on cancer and breathe in Death, only to exhale disappointment

I laid there and waited as they drove nails into my feet and hands

Calling "Deliverer! Deliverer! Save us all, Deliverer!" though I am no savior, I am no Christ, and I am no God.

I found myself, dead, and crawled back into my body, but to no avail

My best friend carried me, a body she thought was lifeless, to my grave

A shallow pit in the frozen ground dug by my father and mother

And she laid me there with tears in her eyes, how I pleaded and screamed and cried and begged for someone to hear

Calling their names as each one threw a handful of dirt upon me

I begged them to know that I lived, that I breathed, that my spirit had not gone

But I laid there and watched as the Earth swallowed me in ice and snow and soil

I held down my worst enemy in her hospital bed with a look of malice in her eyes

And filled with anger I tore her open and pulled out everything I could find with my hands

Destroyed her body and laid everything out on the cold, white floor of a hospital room

Where she had gone to live, I chose that she should die, and I did not ask permission

And looking back up into her eyes, I saw she was gone, and my dying mother lay in her place

Me having opened her, me having pulled her apart, me having killed her

Legions of children, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, kings and men

Marched on in front of me to the shelter, to the place that would be safe

And I turned back for my gold, my silver, my blood and flesh, selfishly abandoning all of them

They marched on into that place as fire rained down from the sky

As the world collapsed around them and they cried for safety, I tucked myself into a dark place, alone

With gun barrel pressed to my head, I watched the fire reflected in the oil-slick pupils of a soldier I used to know

And I watched, through a crack in the wall, a crack in the door, a crack in the ground

As his closest men opened fire on the shelter, just before God opened fire on them all

All of this, a Guide next to me, watching with me, waiting with me, showing me

And this is still not all that I have seen, not all that has been revealed to me

As God leaned back on his throne, the Devil leaned forward in his seat

One told me to wait, the other told me to run

One told me to fight it, the other told me to embrace it

One called me an abomination, one called me a treasure

One called me a sinner, one called me godly

And then I embraced it, my treasured, godly self, and I ran!

And I cried tears of acid over the verses that condemned me, written by men who condemned me

I stared at pictures of my family, my father, my mother, my brother, my sister

And I wished them the best of luck in Heaven because I knew I would not meet them there

I never asked to hurt, I never asked to be damned

I was never asked if I wanted to wake every morning and shake hands with the man who had come to collect my soul

I was never asked if I wanted to fall asleep each night knowing that what lay around me would, on this day, be destroyed

I was never asked if I wanted to speak with the dead and hear their cries of agony and pain

I was never asked if I wanted to be tasked with carrying them with me every place I go

I was never asked if I wanted to tell their loved ones who didn't know that they passed from this foggy existence

I was never asked if I wanted any of this.

I went to a Father, a good man, a righteous man, a man that told me he could help, a man who said he believed

And I reached into myself and I took what was left of my heart from my chest and I put it into his hands

He held it there as it strained to beat and stared into its chambers in silence

Upon thinking, reflecting, analyzing, wondering, he made up his mind and smiled to me

He leaned close and whispered poison in my ear, so thick I felt it sear into my brain and boil it where it landed

One word leaked out of his whitened lips like the sap of a young maple having been set on fire at its planting

"Unholy."

He pulled my ailing heart close, and closing his eyes, he laid upon it a soft kiss filled with pity

Then he opened his eyes once more, and squeezed every drop of life out of that twitching chunk of dying muscle

The wind blew and the dust of what was once mine blew with it

As he stood to leave, I begged him explain, but he only pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket and shrugged

As he laid them in my hand, my skin grew cold, and that was the last time I felt warmth in my body

I called after him as my family fought to restrain me

"Why must I fall asleep in fear? Why must I wake shaking? Why must I walk through Hell when I still beg for Heaven?"

In my power and will, I flooded the basement of that House of the Holy with my tears

And any who had not learned to swim were left to the surge of the sea I had created

No longer would I cry for help, no longer would I beg for mercy or relief, no longer would I confide in those who swore they loved me

But I would be silent, I would embrace the Abyss, the Pit, the Flame in front of my eyes, and I would tell no one of what I could see

And the spirits who had come to know me would be my only certainty in an everchanging world such as this

Still, I tell the man who had come to collect my soul that he must wait another day, and I tell him this everyday

And I tell the creatures he brings with him that they may not have my body for yet another day, and I tell them this everyday

On Sundays I walk to the Church and I still beg for forgiveness and cry into my folded hands as the body of Christ is carefully put away

And I pray "Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil."

And I beg "May God rebuke him, we humbly pray. And do, thou, oh Prince of the Heavenly Host,"

And I breathe "by the power of God, cast into Hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the World, seeking the ruin of souls."

And I look up to the cross and sigh "Amen."

When I leave, I dip my hands into the water and bless myself, hoping and begging to be cleansed of these sins I can't help but commit

Then when I get home, I dip my hands into the blood of my latest victim

Some other poor soul caught between the blades that exist between the folds of my brain and the bone that keeps it contained

I take that blood and rub it on my cheeks to bring back the color

I don't know whose it is, for all I know it could be mine, but I don't remember opening my skin to retrieve it

I haven't done that in so long it might just be the only thing I'm proud of anymore

But please, I beg of you, when I show up on your doorstep covered in blood that isn't mine

Either take me in and clean me off or cast me out and tell me there is no place for me here

I can no longer do the in between, I cannot take the back and forth, I will not go halfway

I will not have you love me now only to learn my truth and say you hate me

I have lived an entire life feeling separate, feeling like the other, never an individual, only a separate species

There was never a support group to go to, there was never a group of people to fall back on

Not after witnessing the destruction of all mankind behind my eyelids

Not after watching the dead come up from the ground and out of the walls and down from the ceilings and in through the doors

You still think that some sunshine and fresh air will clear it all up?

You still think this is a sickness? You still think there is a cure?

I. Am. Not. Sick. I. Am. Dying.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

selabean

this is immaculate.

 

Kelly_With_Art

Wow... thank you so much! I've kept this one under wraps because I was afraid it was too agressive. But that is very high praise, thank you so much!

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