Cross My Heart and Hope To Die

{Three o'clock on a December afternoon, the sky is opaque as my nature has stood out, the rain drizzles down my windows and I am distinctly reminded how it once drizzled down my back; the lacquers of a reflection of thyself. I confiscate and hold back the urge to delineate my finger along its taken shape, my fingertips would collide with the chilliness shrouding it. I yank myself back from quiescence and take a seat on a beanbag settled in the norm of the room; a vague manifestation of my repressed preadolescent remembrances, and spirit. My lips part and exhale the caffeine into my body; the one that lacks vitamins, vitamin depletion but I had not known caffeine was the origin that sucked the life out of me yet cured the emptiness protruding from the resonant chasms within. I illusion the shallow surface seizing me inside; My heart does a backflip at the thunder; though it shan’t scare me; or frighten me anymore for I am not a child; though those rumbles that sprain the vulnerable remind me of bashing screams that ignite through the flimsy cardboard barricades of the West, hysterical and agitated shrieking and lamentation at the ones who claim to love each other till the remarkable end; they’d die for each other; they had once vowed. Though promises remain bedraggled, throw them away as litter and do not allow them to resurface. My conjectures perform a disparity circus, they paddle away on the diminutive tricycle almost as a child would taunt me and bully me in my youth; haunting. I despair at the attempts to believe in love again; the bouquet of wet trees and soil sheathes me as I unhinge the window from its closed wares. All at once, The breeze clasped my hair and I let it saturate me for I was already, falling from the veneer of my existence; I still waver between the screaming fits downstairs of my hand-me-down apartment; the neighbors would eventually dial 911; that I am sure of. Authorities whom vowed to protect the country would cruise on the crime backdrop yet they would be blinded by the shattered and busted plates to even spare a glance at my destroyed crux; my flesh robbed into pieces. They ignore nor acknowledge me as I flee from the bungalow of horrors who have embezzled, my youth. We recite in bed with my sibling every nightfall before spawning our eyes to go into an alternative dreamland. Shutting off our nightlights for whom kindled a flame of shelter we have forgotten of; one day, this will all be over, and the childhood stolen from us would be regarded as the influence of the ghastliness, To love. The doctors of our minds interrogate us upon our beliefs, and we are left bedazzled as they are, they yearn to diagnose us with an astonishing case; open the folders and find the slight representation of our lives that lie deceased in chronology; they diagnose us finally. Cognitive dissonance, they dwindle and write down the prescriptions and remind us to grow addicted to it, even though they do not serve an utterance upon that respective nominee, but stupid isn’t shafted against our foreheads. We foresee the outcome but swallow it dry anyway in a poor attempt to premeditate our expiration and to suffer inadequately. My whole body pivots frozen in and out and my gapes take in the sequestration of the chamber that incarcerated the tears of a child; for it would not kindle with subdued equilibrium no longer. We do not believe in love, for the vocalists in our heads remind us that it is indeed a bogey; the magnificence that portrays it is a work of fiction and fantasy. With no opening; nor getaway with our cars; We drift through the highways and pray to not be caught amidst our juvenile endeavors. We do not believe in it. We swear to you, cross our hearts, and hope to die, stick a needle in our eyes. We do not accept such an atrocity. So what does it all come down to? We are the outcomes of heartbreaks from an early age; to truly love is to inevitably suffer."}