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I bleed in silence

In her last Gmail to me that Friday morning, she talked about being so scared by her prof's threat to drop her out of writing class that she'd stayed up all night to complete a paper. It was almost finished but she was going to sleep at seven in the morning and writing the end of it there, then waking up and taking quick notes before meeting me.

Her note to this poem was "written in my sleep."

::: ::: ::: ::: ::


Sometimes I think I'm going

There's a demon in my heart,
tearing me apart as he fights to get loose.

Screaming, sweet screaming,
echoing in my head,
bouncing off the walls of my mind


I bleed in silence,
as fire fills me,
and ice freezes my skin,
and my soul shivers apart.

::: ::: ::: ::: ::

She posted this in September.
September 2003.
She was 14.

Screaming and silence. Reaching out and curling in. Written in the wind of sleep.
Tracking through the clouds for years then. And now.

As it is with us all. From time to time. World without end.

Blessings Be.


( 11 comments — Leave a comment )
Oct. 20th, 2008 02:10 am (UTC)
It sounds like something I would have written at that age.

Poor, sweet Kiota.
Oct. 20th, 2008 05:36 pm (UTC)
And I think a lot of Friends on my list, almost all of whom come from hers, would agree with you, Meow. Then, and perhaps now too.
Oct. 20th, 2008 05:50 pm (UTC)
If I'd known her when she was alive, I don't know whether I would have wanted to totally kick her ass in frustration or just go, "Girlfriend, I SO get you!" Because I do. The more I'm exposed to her writings -- not so much her art; I have a nature bent and she was more interested in photographing gritty things -- the more I see myself in her. And cry because she didn't make it after all. I know I didn't know her, Brad, but that's honestly how I feel. And yet I do understand why she finally went, perhaps better than anyone; I don't know. And THAT makes me feel so torn.
Oct. 20th, 2008 06:31 pm (UTC)
Well: maybe you would have wanted to do BOTH those things.

Judging from some of those I've met online who were much closer to the exasperation and the achievements, as they were happening in real time, than I was.

Feeling torn is right up her alley, too. You would have clicked on lots of levels.
Oct. 20th, 2008 06:48 pm (UTC)
I'm sure we would have. And she was, and is, a very cool person.
Oct. 20th, 2008 06:50 pm (UTC)
Here, here's one I wrote about the same age to prove my point:

sit here darkness
on its throne
sit here crunching
white ash bone
sit here burning
heart of mine
my body its food
my blood its wine.

One of the 1983 poems.

Edited at 2008-10-20 06:52 pm (UTC)
Oct. 21st, 2008 07:17 pm (UTC)
Amy, you really don't need to post your stuff twice in my journal [or anywhere, really, except yours] "to prove my point".

Once is enough, I get it. Okay?
Oct. 21st, 2008 09:49 pm (UTC)
Oct. 21st, 2008 11:20 am (UTC)
Heartbreaking. And written in her sleep - it's interesting how sleepiness strips away filters. I just want to put my hand to her brow and smooth away the stress. Poor sweet strong hurting creature.

Wish I'd known her.

Oct. 21st, 2008 07:12 pm (UTC)
There are lots of ways to put your hand to her brow and smooth away the stress. Lots of us tried. The fixes were only temporary because the hurts were so deep ....
Oct. 21st, 2008 07:14 pm (UTC)
And thank you, Alex, for posting this.
( 11 comments — Leave a comment )


kiota too late for the stars
Moonfire Marion Bridge / Brad

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