I'm only Chasing Safety

JT,

You've engraved your initials so deep into my pulse that every boy who crashes into me catches me quicken in the same way.
I have always loved - before you and after, but always, I am drawn to the sharp edge of your scar where my bitter bitten fingernails scratch again and again till I bleed
These Boys, they mouth the same lies you did but it is your script I seek. You who taught me to cross my legs, my fingers and my heart so I don't get too 'serious'.

The Chocolate Boy who melted.
The Bassist who plays dead.
Superman who can't save himself.
The Night Prince who only wakes up wasted.

I've walled my veins, buried my blood, straitjacketed my heart, but the occasional heartburn always gets me to recount my pulse rate. I count slowly, checking and rechecking, till your initials are a blur, my heart a fist.

I paint my nails, my face, my hair, my body till I can barely breathe.
Your scar lies dormant, waiting.
Let go of my wrist,
I'm dying.

- Niv

Whatcha say?

The truth is, mystery lies in honesty.

But adolescence makes fucking liars of us all.

We play and switch sides and blades and hide our smiles behind fuck bands, so eventually our mystery fades and boredom and suffocation play referee to a game that ends in tears.

I vote for honesty.

I say, “I love you, now.”

So you know, right? That I love you. But I’m hitting you with it straight - I love you, now.  Tonight when flashing lights veil the whites of my eyes I might love a stranger, now.

We’re so young and overrun by blinding emotion, fueled by fire and intoxicants we forget how to unscrew, and then we end up, you know, screwing. So when her hands trace the silhouette of your spine I know you will love her, now, then.

And I will cry, then, but I know that someday when someone says, “I love you”, I won’t take change and chance and growing pains that spill scars into consideration.

I will say, “I love you too.”

‘cause that’s how we’ll roll, then.

Rainbow Veins

You breathe smoke into me as I brush past you.

My nerves sing fire. I look away. You smile, waiting.

“I’m mad at you”, I say, twisting my hair around my fingers, wishing I could do the same to you.

“Why?”

“You don’t see me," I mouth, as I take in the frayed edges of your jeans, metallic glint of your belt, your veins playing havoc with your forearms and your headphones like heartstrings falling out of your shirt.

I don’t look at your face.

You step forward stealing your way under my skin. I flinch.

You raise your eyebrows, one scar slit, the other whole.You cup my chin with your guitar grazed fingers and as I fight my way out of your familiarity, you headhunt your way into my heart. Again.

“Don’t hide.”

Are you counting? ‘Ready or not, here I come!’ Say it,

It’s your turn.

You don't need a chuddi over tights..

Superman,

You ask me to write of you, for you. I can’t. You’re too real and close to comfort for me to do justice to what the rest of the world thinks we have. Fuck, we’re so entangled that without you I’m at a loose end. I close my eyes and picture you and for some strange reason when I see me I’m always running towards you– slow motion, fast track, all the right reasons – a blur of madness before I crash into you and I’m hit with warmth and comfort and my own brand of cocaine. I’m addicted to you. You’ve let me slip into myself and take pride in it. You’re like an old chair that’s taken the shape of my body, I’m so comfortable I couldn’t, wouldn’t move even if you begged me to. When I’m standing next to you I can feel peace steal through my veins. It’s beautiful. I feel beautiful. You are beautiful. People always talk about ‘right time, right place’, but you, my love, are the ‘right person’ and together we make it the right time and the right place. Trying to explain the feeling that swirls through my blood when I’m with you is like getting a terrorist to pray for peace, impossible. Sometimes, I think I’m not worth you, but then you hug me and I KNOW I’m safe. First base, second base, third base, homerun, SAFE. We skipped, but then again, that’s just how we roll na? A rebel without a cause and superman straitlaced by kryptonite. I love you. Fight with me, for me?

Niv.

Cause and Reflect

We sit on the concrete, playing soldier to the sea, the breeze blowing bruises on my skin. My fingers curl around my knees as I feel myself slipping, seduced by gravity. You sit beside me oblivious to change – change in current, change in currency, change in the way my curls are no longer angled towards yours. You sit, wrapped in the words of the artists you play, who play you - puppet or puppeteer? We sit, entranced, me with memory and motion, you with mystery and music. My face faces yours and as the sea pitches pinpricks of salt at us, my mind maps out the coordinates of your mind.
I can see so clearly I feel blind.
You’re only a boy, lost and scarred, slitting your wrists with The Edge you’ve been gifted with.
I’m only a girl, lost and scared, slitting my wrists with The Edge I’ve been gifted with.
You could, I should, we don’t.
The sea lures us into into her chokehold, beauty in her destruction. She plays siren to those who have strayed off the bloodstained path – water to bathe wounds. The eternal Seductress. 

Temptation.

And as we edge our way down the rocks, you reach out to me and I hold you to it.

The beaten track has never looked so far off.

This time, we plunge.

Sephia tinted

Snapshots flash through her skull, knife slits of memories on her mind as she sits there curled into herself, the foetal position turned fatal.

Vodka shot, two shot, three shot, four shot, five shot, six shot, seven shot, her shot, metallic pink nails kissing skin, one step, two step, three step, four step, five step, six step, bed, smudged kajal, painted mouth, slipping mask, one word, two word, three word, four word, five word, ‘Why won’t you kiss me?’, flashing lights, shadows, hurt, escape, shorts, so short, tall boy, hazel eyes, flicker, on, off, one high, two high, three high, crash.

Piercing, shiny people, short tight black, red lips, bloody sunrise, swing, wet grass, stilettos, fingers twined, menthols, mouth, mouth-to-mouth, rough raw ready, entangled, shift, silk, unmade bed, undrunk coffee, drunk, disgust, pieces, edge, run, fit, smooth, smile, slick on lip gloss, sleep.

Taxi, touch, want, don’t, chocolate skin, chocolate boy, lick, don’t, open, out, trees, football, climb, fall, break, run, him, hand, hold, push, slick skin kissing skin, fight, laugh, lift, flash light brown, flash back, same, Gateway, getaway, feel, want, don’t, when?

Stop.

She unfurls, slashing at thought threads and soaking into herself, and they die, one by one, in shimmering, heart wrenching pain, bloodied footsteps staining their slideshows.

They don't matter, only she does.

She smiles.

Flash on. *click*

Fight This

“More and more, it feels like I'm doing a really bad impersonation of myself” – Chuck Palanuick

She won’t stop. Cant.
The Words keep coming -fast, loud, like a madness unraveling.
They bind her voice and snake through her fingers which follow, in a sightless game of Simon Says.
And as she spits her guts out, They inch backwards, stealing the light, a testament to her terror.

How do you restrain something you have never been able to capture?
How do you straitjacket yourself when you can’t be contained?
How do you stop someone They started,
even if that someone is You?

So she turns to them and whips up their voices into her mouth till They speak of silence and she speaks of them,
like them.
They smile, satisfied, and stalk away, their prey now playing predator.
Game over.

Her face fell

Today in the lift, as gravity grabbed at my body, I felt this insane urge to put my fingers through the lift bars, just to see , you know? You know how you’re standing on the edge of a terrace or a boat or the world and the desire to jump racks your nerves forcing you to take one tiny step closer?

Would you fly, or would you fall?

But always, I imagine the aftermath, blood staining the walls and broken legs, broken hands, a broken heart. It’s not a prediction, merely me making a mockery of my mind. The temptation to give it all up never comes close to the fact that I’m still standing on the edge with nothing to give up. I’m not talking about suicide, not even close. I’ve just always wanted to know, what happens next?

Is it ever worth it?

Or maybe I could just..run. On air. Like those cartoon characters who run off a cliff and run and run because they don’t know that they’ve run off a cliff. But then they look Down and Down eats them up. I’d never look Down. No more straightening and painting and building a brighter future cause I'd be a star. Hell yeah! A fucking star who wouldn't need to splash on glitter!

Dazzle up there on my own with a million stars who shine with more sparkle than I do.

I could never do it.

My shoes are so wrong.

Bruise.is

You don't see me.

The foyer buzzes unfamiliarly against my skin. It’s hot. It’s cold. It’s raining. There are too many people. Too many people I know. Too many people I used to know. Change has marred them all and here I am, waiting. Fit. Misfit. Dammit.

I scrunch my jacket upto my elbows and watch my feet graze the old familiar greenish-gray tiles. People laugh and shout and sit and feel.

I don’t.

I feel like a stranger in a land I used to own.

But i'm not running.

I'm grazing.

I'm bruising.
I’m lost.
And when you come looking, you won’t find me.
There are too many people.

The Other Side

The city lights beckon, flashing the cold swirling waves, seducing me into joining them. I lean against the parapet completely mesmerized. The breeze blows butterflies on my skin and my toes curl on the tarmac as I fight the urge to jump. Maybe falling only hurts while it’s happening..

“N, your phone!” K screeches giggling. She’s far gone. I grab it dazedly. ‘Mama’ it says blinking. Blink, blink, blink. Dammit.

“Hey”, I say cautiously scratching at a scar on the parapet, my head reeling from standing straight.

“How’s the party?”

“Fun”, I state brightly, clutching at straws, my imagination frozen, “You know, the usual.”

“No drugs or alcohol, I hope”, you say, only half joking, just as a very stoned B retches into a plastic bag.

I turn away hurriedly, “No no, pizza, coke, music thaaat.. We’re playing Taboo now, my team’s winning.”

The scene sprawling in front of me spits all the wrong answers to your questions on how I’m getting home.

“R’s dad is dropping me, I’ll be home by 1”, you’re okay with that. I flop down on the old pipes ungracefully. It’s so easy to lie to someone you don’t want to hurt. Cigarette butts disfigure the terraces’ virginal surface and the boys have started rolling more joints. Hash, Mary Jane—pretty girls that stain my own virginity as I test the weight of the bong in my hand. Her name’s Mary, they say proudly. She’s blood red so I’m guessing Bloody Mary had a hand in the christening but Z mutters something about a Christmas present.

“You don’t know what it’s like, dude. Everything just suddenly becomes so fuckin clear & you’re all mellow & you just don’t care… Here. Try it.”

I smile at him, he thinks that’s what I want, it’s what everybody wants.

He’s a smart boy. Hot, intense, the boy they’re always talking about. But then I see his bony shoulders, shaking fingers, vacant eyes, the way he can’t remember what he said 2 minutes ago, how everything is so fucking funny, how he smells of despair & fear & something wasted.

I watch the smoke swirling through his outstretched fingers and suddenly, I know what I want. I want to care. I’m sick of running and searching for escape holes and hiding places, of painting faces and words, of tracing excuses in quicksand.

It's my turn, and I pass. I’m ready to face the world with my blindfold folded.

Shine on, fools

"My walls, she shattered them," you say bitterly, your eyes shining in the dark.You're like the bird with the broken wing on Acid.
"I'm out."
I smile.
You think you're so fly with your razor edged voice and your emotion erased heart but I've been there before. Its not easy. Happiness never is.
But then again, they say you don't know pleasure without pain.
Stupid fucking game.
Let's lose.

Match-stick-burn

The smoke claws at my hair like wisps of guilt, it swirls around the hem of my jeans and trails up my skin. I watch it at play. I don't do it, I only watch. But sometimes, that's enough.
Sometimes, not choosing is a choice.

Give up, Give in, same old ' and they lived happily ever after'.
I've always wanted to know, what happens next?

I could be you.
I could have your story.
I could have had your story.

But I choose to make my own, with matchstick figures and bloodstained fingers.
All I need is a pen to draw lines.

Awake, Asleep, Awake.

The cuccoon cracks and my blood seeps through the shattered edges staining the white. Change swirls into into my spine and I stiffen. He is quiet at first but He feeds on my fear and before I have time to put on my mask, I am His.
There is no going back.

Survival is a lucid dream.
Sex is under-rated.
Drugs call on Denial.
Drama is the interlude to your melody, to your rap, to the hurt in your eyes.
Alcohol helps you remember, alcohol helps you forget.
Everybody lies.

I'm back to closing my eyes to bring in the light.
"But mama, everybody's doing it."

Confessions of an Escape Artist

"You disgust me,"
Your voice echoes through the time zones in my head and I crouch over the toilet bowl and retch. I retch until my soul has purged itself of the scars you drew. I retch until tears and sweat mingle lost down my face. I retch until all I can see is spinning white tiles.
My reflection spits rejection and together, we cry.

"When was the last time you finished something you started?"
"You don't call, you don't text, you've forgotten how to smile, are we dead yet?"
"It's only a book N, it's only a book. It won't bite. If it does, bite back!"
"Move!"
"She's the princess of the house, can't even move to get herself a glass of water, our pretty little invalid..right girls?"
"Sorry, you're just not..right for the job."
"Why can't you be more like..."
"Do you want to go out tonight? What do you want to do then? WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

If I start spinning, will the earth stop?
It's about time, don't you think?

You Won't Know

“Him.”

“Him?! No noo what the fffuck I don’t know him! I can’t!”

“I think he’s cute.”

“But...”

“Shut up. I’m giving you what you want. Happy Birthday gorj. Bite him.”

She felt like an animal, claws out, fangs bared, blood and heat swirling through her veins. He weaved his way through the spinning crowd, fighting the light. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t want his face burning holes in her reverie. They faced each other, the Beauty and the Beast. Animal animal.

He smiled and shrugged. His masquerade took flight and she skipped his eyes for his mouth. His hands cradled her waist and she let them lie, let him lie, she lied. He leaned into her and she leaned into him and together they spelt imperfection, ‘cause perfect had never let her sleep. Do it do it do it

He smelt of smoke and I-want-you ness. She smelt of uncried tears and uncertainty.But he had big hands and she was beautiful so when he tilted his face she mirrored him and when he kissed her, she kissed him back.

They kissed till they tasted of each other, they kissed until she smiled back.

And when she was sure she felt nothing at all, she spun around and left.

“OMG OMG! What did you tell him?!”

“Nothing! I said that’s my friend over there, she’s hot and depressed ‘cause she’s turning 18. Make her smile.”

“He knew.”

“He didn’t. Boys like him can catch that scent from far far away.”

“What scent? Easy prey?”

“He knew.”

If you ask her later why she did it, she’ll laugh and say she wanted to.

If you ask me, I’d say she needed to.

Animals don't care, yeah? They feed on their friends.