BRAIN FREEZE
ani
My head hurts
It stings and it follows through to the gnawing in my heart
It stops my thoughts but i still feel my lungs rotting and blood crying
An empty path
Clear with a destination but my legs give out
My muscles feel mutilated, and the devil burns my feet
My head hurts
The dirt fills my mouth and
The butterflies watch as I make peace with the ground.
The cold stings and embraces
My tears are frozen, and my blood is ice
I can’t see it
And my head hurts.
CROSS MY HEART
(AND HOPE TO DIE)
It started when I was 7. The bird on the playground was already dying, really, it was a sympathy kill, it couldn’t feel anything anymore. It wasn’t in pain when I took the heart , I didn’t have a knife, so I just did it with my fingers, pulled at the already torn corpse until I found the still heart. I took it to class, clasped in my bloody hands and placed it on the paper given to us. I had barely grabbed my favourite red crayon before someone screamed. I never got to draw that heart, but I’ll never forget the way it felt, hidden behind my back. I didn’t touch another heart until I was 15, I drew them, painted them, used every medium I could get my hands on, obsessed with finding the right one, the perfect depiction.
​
I thought I found one once. It belonged to a boy I found at 17. We were the same age, I think, but he was naïve. And he smiled too much, he didn’t stop, even as I painted the heart I’d pulled from his very chest. It was a pretty heart, I thought it’d be the last one. It wasn’t, of course, I shouldn’t of had such high hopes. Pretty heart, not enough to captivate me. So, I wondered what heart to look for next.
​
It didn’t take long to figure it out. I didn't care for all their hearts anymore, their individual beats and shapes. What did mine look like? I had to know. One final piece. They’d probably called me troubled, psychotic, a poor, poor child. But I knew it was really just art. And when the knife breached past my skin, I didn’t flinch, and when I felt it in my hands, I smiled.
THIS IS ME,
TELLING YOU,
I LOVE YOU.
I love.
And I love.
Such an overused word, but you’ll find it written on my daily routine,
Each person the sun, and my eyes get burnt,
And I get bored,
I never did like the sun much anyway.
But you, you are no sun.
You are a moon, with imperfections that make you oh so perfect,
A beauty so entrancing. Bewitching.
And never quite burning my eyes, but they still sting
You’re too far out of reach, moving with your stars, so far away.
I love.
But it hasn’t gone away.
And I don’t know what to do.
My name is Ani (she/they) and I also submitted to the debut issue of Lilith's Diaries. I'm a writer who specialises in articles and poetry, currently writing for music blogs such as Dead Good Music. My submission for this issue of Lilith's Diaries contains two poems titled 'Brain Freeze' and 'This Is Me' as well as a piece of flash fiction titled 'Cross My Heart'. They deal with quite graphic themes, as such, it should be noted that the flash fiction is entirely fictional. Each piece I've submitted, like most of my work, means a huge amount to me following many emotional themes.