My emotions are far from my body.
As far as I can manage to push them away.
It takes practice,
skill,
concentration
but I’d much rather be empty
then full of them.


My happiness lays somewhere in the street,
crushed,
dented,
completely decimated.
It was bright orange.
But now?
It is hardly recognizable.
It is battered
and faded
like a childhood stuffed animal
and no amount of repair
could ever return
its blackened mucky form
to the bright,
shiny square it was.

My fear is behind locked doors.
It is sedated
and has been hypnotized.
It has been forced to lose all worry.
It has been convinced that no fear is the answer.

That probably means that I should have courage,
but alas it escaped long ago.
It was lonely without the fear
to constantly battle
It jumped through a shattered window
and never looked back.

My sadness floats
in a thick dark cloud
above my head.
Constantly storming,
a reminder of what was,
still is,
and will never change.
The thunder rattles my bones
the lightning flashes a warning,
breakdown is near.
My embarrassment has slid under the carpet.
Beneath where I sit now.
Crumpled in a heap,
always consciously aware
of just how close the humiliation is.

My anger has risen to a fog.
Parts of which have been blown away
by the winds of arrogance,
however traces still linger.
In the deepest corners of my soul
tendrils of anger tug at my heart.

Hope is all that’s missing,
as you probably see.
Something that never was
can’t be missed, though.
It was vacant from the beginning;
my heart a stone,
ice cold,
smoky charcoal,
each beat against my chest is painful,
as it rattles on empty.

The only emotion left for me to wallow in is loneliness,
and brokenness.
But no amount of love
or desperation
in the world
could save me.

I am broken beyond repair.
Fix me.