Anti Surface

A shadow of my former self
The darkness seeping
through invisible layers
not at once air tight as before
The cracks have become a nuisance
The chain-mail pierced by the seething and unwanted
Naked my chest lay bare
grasping to be robed once more
Urging onward the threat of unwanted emotion
Craving the once cold exterior
Praying to go back to mindless misery
To the comfort of the subconsciously barren

A dam broken seeking flood
in the form of vulnerability
Lacking reserve
As the pieces forge through the cracks
once held to the back of consciousness
Only to be thrust upon the front lines, unwanted
What am I now but a piece of glass?
I feel no such thing although,
witnessing said characteristic in other’s eyes
I wish you to gaze upon me again
as it were any other winter day
Do not think of me as broken
for I already think of such myself
What good would be caused by such a feeling
manifesting itself unto more than one soul?
As such a feeling has no cure
Only I can repair with bandages and sutures
This will just leave you more helpless
Gaze upon me as I were the daughter I was yesterday
Wash the fear out of ones eyes
Bathe them to be a naive glare
Force upon them the lack of memory
Forge a gaze of hate if you must
For I cannot look into such broken eyes
Knowing I am the cause to have hurt them so
Your pity, it does not make any easier
If I am to feel whole
I must gaze into your eyes seeing the reflection of such
Piece back the broken mirrors of your irises
They will do none any good
This is my battle, me with the green eyes
Do not force me to give up my bayonet
to have you replace me on the front lines
I cannot fix myself from another's efforts
I must slay the beast first hand
One cannot learn algebra through another's eyes
Through the pen of a strange hand
This is my mountain
You cannot climb it for me with your feet
And as the struggle to climb becomes me
the gaze in your eyes is neither comforting or inspiring
Leaving me to doubt the strength within
As once again through your eyes
I see the reflection of a ghost
Which is of no relation to myself

Receding I am into the brush
Open I no longer wish to be
If I shall be cast upon with such pity
I shall remain even emptier so
Do not remember me as the life clinging to your chest
Tears soaking into your shirt as couriers of memories past
Forget the open wound of a person you were met with
I only wish to remain me, as I was
Suffering in silence
No other should bare the weight of this dilapidation
that cannot be so easily or readily fixed
Do not force yourself to gaze upon this shanty of a human
as a car wreck with twisted metal from which eyes cannot look away
It will only hurt if you gather hope of mending
Take me at face value and do not delve deeper
Must I beg?
Your disdain only magnifies my own
Atlas did not have another to bear the weight of the world
and I too wish to find solace in such independence
As such a burn into flesh, one cannot will it to heal
and even so the scar remains
Do not look past the surface of this scar
I wish to only graze the top as well
Do not dig to which you blindly tunnel
for what mysteries lay beneath
are Pandora’s box in nature
As a small crack in glass slowly webs out
digging deep will create a spider’s mansion
of webs to which shall not be ventured upon
Leave it be as it must
Do not search where you are not wanted
You may wake the beast
and being cornered it does not like
A gash you will be left with
Anger replacing vulnerability

Let words of me die on your tongue
Thoughts of me trickle like sand between fingers
Do not cry over the spilled milk of my psyche
For I will mop it up myself
For these things I refuse to let define me in your eyes
There is no E=mc squared in my life
More so a pythagorean theorem
Devoid of the value of the missing diagonal
Do not try to solve the equation
It's comfortable in it's mystery
For an answer provides a reason
and reason is not welcome here
Let me act as a equilateral triangle
Drawn in pencil, solid and equal
but measurements unknown
Let me work upon the surface
Relishing in a figment of a clean slate
Etches still carved in the surface
but compounding a layer of polish to build atop
The latter still present in a physical nature
but these fingers shall not ghost above the gashes
The soul shadowing like a fog through the battlefield
Things seen but not felt
Comfort found in ignorance
Leave me here in my own Gettysburg
To take notice of the bloodied bodies
Only to laxadasicaly trod over the decaying
To reach the clear pasture
and feel fresh flora upon my ankles
Arms spread through the high grass
To whisk the blood from my appendages
and start a new
To fill in the trenches
Rather than search through the upheaval
To find a plateau amongst the sinking sand
Stilts to climb over the valleys which hold ghosts
Give me earth to be down trodden over the landfill
For which a new house must be built
A foundation which knows not of what lay beneath