Secrets

For some background, I wrote this poem as an emotional response to the relationship abuse I’d endured for several years of my life. During those many hard and trying years, I felt trapped and I sincerely thought that I would never escape. But fortune favored me and with the help of friends and family I was able to leave those dangerous situations. And now I present to you….Secrets.

secrets

I am the fire built within
I am your rage beneath the skin
Every breath I heave
Is a song you sing in silence.
I am unknown to strange minds
I am a voice inside your own
The same desperate message
Driving on relentlessly
Until it resonates as the truth

I’ll burn the boundaries of your world
Reality is but obscurity
To which consequences fall asunder.
You exist within the inner landscapes
Entangled in my rage, my frustration and desire.
I desire to escape
Yet you question
You are the cage and I the inferno.

I want to tear your skin apart
Cut a split in your cocoon
And burn it; together
We shall harness the bomb on our fingertips
To bring down the past; together
We bare our teeth in defiance
Howling for the great darkness within
And wonder if the gods dare to listen

You want my fire to consume their hands
Even the score, erase the past…

Our secret is no longer.
.
.
.
© Siobhan Marie Hurd 2010

 

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Diary Post – February 5 2007

I’m much better off than I was all those years ago, but memories still sting. I feel for my past self. People always wonder what they would do with a time machine, and a part of me wants to go back and save my naive little self from nearly three years of hell. But then that would change my future and I might not be sitting here today writing in this blog, and certainly not this post.

So I’ve been casually reading through my old diary from college, just remarking at how I went from optimistic to despairing in such a short couple of months. I had been dating a very abusive partner at the time and it broke me. He loved to accuse me of having a multitude of “miscommunication’s” with him. His terminology for “not understanding” his method of thought or his wild philosophies. And it pains me to admit it, but I feel as though I have absorbed some of his characteristics without even meaning to. I am working so hard to undo the damage he has sown upon me. The entry below details one such miscommunication we had.

“Paul and I had gotten into an argument about me not “understanding” him. I was extremely distraught over this and I wanted him to know that, but I am afraid to tell him and then have him reiterate that I don’t understand him. This seems to be the biggest issue that happens between us, I am devastated by the whole thing; I’m eating less, I’m depressed, unmotivated, and I keep getting sick. 

I want things to work out between us and I’m doing my absolute best to keep it all working. I’m trying to not be pessimistic, I want to be the one who is positive because Paul isn’t always happy.

I missed my first class this morning because that night I was up extremely late trying to set things right. Paul started arguing with me going on about how I never could understand him and that we were having another miscommunication (whatever that meant). We were in bed and there came a point where Paul kept pushing me away from him, in a literal physical sense. Whenever I tried to settle down into a sleeping position, I would inadvertently have my body touching his because the bed was so small. When I tried to place my hands along his back, he pushed me off and away, almost toppling me out of bed. I was heartbroken. I made my best effort to try and sleep without touching him, which meant that my head was no longer on a pillow and I was practically dangling off the edge of the mattress. 

I can never do anything right, and that’s an honest answer. What am I doing wrong? Am I blind, deaf? I thought I understood him, I really did, but now all of his insistent arguments against me are making me think otherwise.”

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you gaslighting. I realize that now, I didn’t have a word for it back then or even understood what it was. But now I know better.

What came next in the diary were the lyrics to “Weak and Powerless” by A Perfect Circle. I wrote those in there because that was exactly how I was feeling, weak and powerless.

“Little angel go away
Come again some other day
The devil has my ear today
I’ll never hear a word you say…”

Stay tuned for more diary posts and poetry. Leave questions in the comment section and don’t forget to subscribe!

The Fens of the Sea

waterpicture source

The sea thunders inside my head
Seagulls screech behind my eyes

I stare into the foggy waves and wonder
I wonder…

Water crashes against earth
Salt spray entangles my hair

I listen to the roar of the ocean and wander
I wander…

The brine licks my white fingertips
And catches me fast in a bitter embrace

I feel the weight of the sea above me and I wait
I wait…

Falling beneath and in between
The gentle sands cradle my head

I see the sun shimmering above and I watch
I watch…

Ice and fire captivate my lungs
My vision blurs out the sun

I descend into the fens of the sea and I wallow
I wallow…

And I remain…

© The Eyes of Seraphim 2016

Stillborn

graveyard

Once I was my own demise; a starving cheek kissed by fate
I sat alone in a garden of syringes and saints
Waiting for someone to find me

A shadowed stranger with a crucifix for my tainted heart
A man masked with a mirror and a butterfly stare
Came to purge my sins

The transcendent petals wept from the cherry blossom
They shed their tears for me as I sewed shut my life
For I have no pearls nor perfect deeds

I’m still living…
I’m still breathing…
This heart keeps beating…
But there is no feeling…

I am nothing but a poppet animated by my grief
Frail; my body is a hoodoo doll of holes and hollows
Awaiting a dark embrace

Stolen from myself by a perfect fallen angel; black with lies
I lost my heart for a chance to see the truth
And so i sit plucking out the thorns of deceit

I waste away in this graveyard garden; void and silently staring
Waiting for that shadowed stranger with a four cornered knife
To break this spell of death

I’m still living…
I’m still breathing…
This heart keeps beating…
But there is no feeling…

Beyond Our Control

I almost cut myself today.

It was my first day back at work after being on vacation for a whole week with boyfriend. So if you were wondering why I hadn’t posted last week that was why. Today started off alright, but then a thought crept into my head and burrowed its way into my personal knot of paranoia and anxiety. It nested there until it grew too large for me to ignore. The thought screamed at me until I paid attention to it. Within moments I broke down and acknowledged my fear, it was so loud I found it impossible not to.

That set the mood for the rest of the day, unfortunately. Have you ever felt so anxious that you couldn’t stop shaking, you can’t breath and you forget how to swallow? That was me all morning leading up to the afternoon. I ended up not eating anything other than a Special K chocolate protein shake. I still don’t feel hungry, but then again stress will do that to you.

My boyfriend is currently talking me down via text message since he lives in Maryland. I can’t imagine how he deals with me. I guess love truly does conquer all. But I can’t help but feel horribly guilty for how I feel. I don’t want to feel this way, at all. Its awful!

In other news, I keep seeing people in my room at night. They won’t let me sleep, they talk to me (asking me to play games in the middle of the night) and scare me awake (I saw a young boy with shark teeth rush my side of the bed from the corner of the closet). I don’t know what to do about this, am I going mad? I see my psychiatrist again tonight so I’m going to bring all this up to him. The paranoia, the anxiety, the depression, seeing people in my room at night, and finally the cutting. I haven’t cut myself in so very long, I am afraid to have a relapse.

This is going to be a long post tonight, and for that I somewhat apologize (unless you guys enjoy longer posts). I wrote a poem based off a dream that I had and I wanted to share it will you all. The poem is also an illustration of myself in some regards and if I remember correctly, it highlighted a separation that I experienced. I wrote this poem with heavy imagery in mind, chronicling a journey between two people through fantasy and chaos. I hope you enjoy it. It is a long poem, but worth every line.

Continue reading “Beyond Our Control”

My Predetermined Suicide

“A pill to make you numb, a pill to make you dumb…
A pill to make you anybody else…
But all the drugs in this world won’t save her from herself…”

I was flipping through my burn book this afternoon with my boyfriend. I’ve never come that close to sharing the contents of this book with anyone. No one has ever read my black book before. You here on the internet are the only ones I have shared anything with in regards to that. However, in the interest of trust in the relationship between boyfriend and I, I want to show him the entire journal. But its so hard! In the past I considered burning the damn things, hence the title burn book. But, I can’t. Its like one of my horcruxes. It’s a part of me and if I destroy it I’ll be destroying what has come to define me, my past and my madness.

So in short, I haven’t shown boyfriend everything of the book’s entirety just yet, that’s something I’m not ready to do at this point in time. Even though I want to, the thought makes me panic because there is that air of uncertainty. What is he going to think? Will it help him understand me or will I just make him sad? I don’t want to make him sad or upset.

I found another poem in the burn book that I wrote back in July of 2005. It may sound completely cheesy now, but at the time it expressed my concrete desire to kill myself, but it also radiated that sense of apprehension. However, at the time I sincerely believed that I would die by suicide, that was how the light was going to go out. I thought it was fate. Enjoy the poem and thank you for reading everyone.

burnbookpoem1

Do you like my demon dragon?

The Emptiness

I’m going to share an excerpt from a diary entry I wrote back in April of 2007. This was a time where the relationship with my abuser was almost at its worst. He was getting bolder in his actions. He was getting physically and more verbally abusive. All I wanted to do during that time in the interest of escape was to drink, smoke, cut myself and cry. And cut myself I did, the pain reminded me that I was still alive even though I felt dead inside.

This diary excerpt is a scattering of incidents that happened during one of our frequent arguments. He loved to torment me with fighting, yelling at me, degrading me either alone in his room or in front of friends. It didn’t matter to him. He was always right and I was always…always in the wrong. To him I was a failure and he would remind me that I should have been more grateful that he loved me because no one else would. But now I know better, he was a manipulative bastard who toyed with my emotions and sense of self for his own twisted means. That’s two and a half years of my life I will never get back. It was a hard lesson to learn, but I know better now.

APRIL 2007

“He called me oblivious, a quitter, told me to make some goddamn sense.”

“I’m so hurt because he hates my family and dislikes my sister.”

“He asked me if I have a pair of fucking ears, claiming I don’t hear things the right way.”

“He said I have no brain, asked me if I was mentally challenged.”

“He said to me….’fuck you’.”

In response to our frequent fights which he always started, I would write poetry to express my sorrow, guilt and shame. I also heavily contemplated suicide during those days. One said poem stands out from the rest in regards to this time, it was titled, The Emptiness, which perfectly summed up how I felt internally. Every time I read this poem, I can’t help but imagine a landscape in black and white, desolate and barren, just like my soul.

The Emptiness

The mourning comes again
When the night lifts its sully veils
Revealing only a paleness; in the air
I sense a discoloration
Which a prism can never capture
But, it seems to me a blur
In every shade of gray
With shadows populating my vision
Like a thicket of phantom trees
And so I crumble
Along with the bones of the past
To which I vanish; alone
With the memories