my rotting body


My bones are aching
underneath the weight of all these secrets.

I don’t only carry my secrets
inside of my mind. They lay inside
my rib cage, my back bone, in between the bones in my hips.
They take up space in my lungs
as well as making up the lost pieces of my duct tape heart. I hold them heavy like stone
inside my rotting, decaying body
with the hopes that they are safer there
than they are in my brain.

They are not any safer
in my body
than they are when they live
inside my mind.
Only, there is a difference
in the level of danger.

When the secrets resided inside
of my brain,
it was a constant push and pull
between me and what I wanted,
and my subconscious and what she wanted.
I pulled back,
back back back,
trying to make sure that she didn’t give us away.
I would scream,
while she would push push push,
yelling back at me,
“But it’s time. We need to talk about it.”
I was so fucking tired.

So I made a choice, sort of.
A sort of choice,
a choice which happened without me,
a decision which I asked for, though
didn’t put forth on my own.

My secrets walked with their heads down,
hands tied behind their backs
into the depths of my skeleton.
There they have lived
for years and years and years,
but they refuse to stay silent any longer.
And I don’t know how much strength I have left
to keep them quiet.

My secrets push onto my skin
from the inside.
I feel them like a fetus in my womb,
kicking and kicking,
saying, “hi mom! It’s us! We are still here,
please don’t forget.”
They don’t understand that it is
literally impossible for me
to ever forget. I will never
forget these secrets,
I just want them to keep hiding.

I know this cannot last for much longer.
My muscles grow weaker with each movement,
my bones grow more tired
with each day that passes.
There are cracks.
If I lay on a metal table
surrounded by doctors who scan me
under their x-ray machine,
my bones will show decay.
The doctors will see my secrets first-hand,
my bones rotting, my lungs shriveled up,
my heart covered in cracks with
little pieces missing, like a
puzzle unfinished.

But here I am, afraid and unaware
of the consequences which will come
when I let them go.
When I give birth to my past and my pain,
when I open the locked cages of my body
and untie the hands of my secrets,
let them walk up and out
of the place which they called home for so long
and find a new place to rest
like dust bunnies flying in the air.
What will happen
when I release them?

My bones are breaking
underneath the weight of all these secrets,

and I am so fucking afraid
of having a life, of living a life
free of this constant ache.

-Ayla Mae


BNHAWEEK || Aug 05 || Day 6: Words

  • Option A: Favorite Quote

    ↳ “though my body may rot away and decline…and the world see me in this condition… my spirit remains… i am still the symbol of peace! and there is nothing you can do to take even a fragment of that away from me!”


i guess you can say I lack self awareness? or like a sense of self preservation? when I was 12 I was walking home from church and I scrapped my knee, I ignored it, didn’t tell anyone cause why should I? i put on bandaids, used peroxide, did everything I thought I had to do. for about 3 months?
one day my mom saw my leg and freaked out, we went to the doctor and he told me that this was a serious infection that hadn’t been healing, if I had left it like that that there was a possibility I could lose part of my leg

I think I was convinced for a long time that my body was rotting from the inside out

long story short I’m very susceptible to infections and I bruise easy lol, I got a weak body,
but then again I was a second degree black belt for a while :0c and on the upside though I’m much better at treating and disinfecting wounds 👍👽

“from my rotting body, flowers shall grow and i am in them and that is eternity” -edvard munch

this quote means a lot to me. tats by needle juice, manila, philippines - nicole deveras