ice ice, baby.

I thought I was too cool to care,
Now maybe that’s too true,
There’s an Eskimo outside my door
Building an igloo.

I’ve always wanted to be cool,
But detachment was my reason,
Now I am so very cool,
So cool, I’m fucking freezin’.

Frozen up in isolation
I can’t relate to you.
I’m the White Witch of Narnia*,
Somehow remade anew.

Snowdrifts almost covered me, my igloo and my sled,
I was speechless as you walked away,
Then you turned and said:
‘You know nothing ‘pon snow.
Let it go.
Let it go.’

——

*(though really, you can’t beat Tilda Swinton).

“..hardly hedgerows, little lines..”

Melancholy musings must
As everything, regress to dust.
All things return from whence they came,
Doth my memory the same.

Sparks of Spring-blessed childhood.
Early risings and cool dawn grass,
As sunrise amplified reality
Granting tiny temporary kingdoms
To my imaginative keeping.

Barefoot child I,
Twixt river and orchard wild,
Would careless spend my day
Full of mud, fruit and fae.
Until as is wont, up I grew.
Something one should never do..

Weekdays

I hate weekdays,
They drag us from our bed,
Where we could snuggle down together,
Keep each other warm instead.
The winter morning chill pervades the room,
Then together, almost as one, and far too soon,
We cast aside the cover,
Glancing shrewdly at each other
Before competing for first shower,
Hot-water, soap, and scour,
While the other makes us coffee,
With toast all buttered down,
Warming frozen fingers,
Wrapped in a dressing gown.
Humming out a cheerful morning song.
Perhaps I don’t hate weekdays all along.

Intermission quotes #2

Melvin Udall: “People that talk in metaphors oughta shampoo my crotch.”

-As Good As it Gets

——-

Melvin Udall: “Some of us have great stories, pretty stories that take place at lakes, with boats, and friends, and noodle salad. Just no one in this car. But, a lot of people, that’s their story; good times, noodle salad. What makes it so hard is not that you had it bad, but that you’re that pissed that so many others had it good.”

– As Good As It Gets

———

“Procrastination is a way for us to be satisfied with second-rate results; we can always tell ourselves we’d have done a better job if only we had more time…If you’re good at rationalizing, you can keep yourself feeling rather satisfied this way, but it’s a cheap happy. You’re whittling your expectations of yourself down lower and lower.”

-Richard O’Connor

Filled up with Empty

Hey, It’s me, calling up at 2am,
Just a little bit off my face.
Ima need some bail again,
For fighting at some place.

Shouldn’t have gone out,
Probably should have stayed home,
But when I’m empty, and angry,
I’m not safe when I’m alone.

I tried my best to fill up the hole,
Indulged in dancing and alcohol.
Maybe got just a tiny bit lit, but,
It’s called a hole ‘cos there’s nothing innit.

Lost my temper, and before I knew,
I glassed some bitch and her boyfriend too.
She needs stitches, he might be blind,
Maybe I went too far this time.

It filled the hole, but I must confess,
It only filled up with more emptiness.

Hello Darkness, my old friend

Black is the colour in which stars shine,
And hiding underneath closed eyes,
Black is the colour in which you’ll find
Dreams and Realms Untold reside.
There within the colour of coal,
A canvas for the mind and soul,
A wonderland where you’re made whole.
Not a colour, but a tone,
It’s somewhere safe to call your own,
A place that’s yours,
And yours alone.

Alone, Together.

You say goodnight,
Time for bed.
Tired eyes,
Sleepy head.

In the stillness of the room
I can hear your gentle breathing,
You have fallen straight to sleep
Before my feet are done unfreezing.

Another icy night,
It’s the middle of that season,
Our body-warmth beneath the quilt
Is not the only reason
To lay here.
To stay here.

I picture monsters in the darkness,
But I’m not much for believing,
There are much worse things by far,
Like the clock hand slowly cleaving.

Cleaving away each helpless hour.
And I lie here, wide awake,
Hours long since passed from evening,
Well into the morning now,
I wonder what you’re dreaming.

Because I’ll lie here with my mind,
My mind all madly teeming,
Body cramping, muscles screaming,
Trying so hard not to move,
Or accidentally waken you.

I’ll lie here all night, suffering instead,
So that you can sleep soundly, when we both share a bed.

Together Forever (not)

So this is what ‘forever’ looks like
From the other side.
A lot like broken promises
And echoes of goodbye.
Like everything you never got
But always thought you’d get.
Like each forgotten lonely grave
Of every childhood pet.
The only thing that’s certain is,
It looks a lot like loneliness.

Misery in greater detail..

I thought I’d upgrade my depression,
See how it’s looking in 4K.
Ultra High Definition is the new norm now,
At least that’s what they say.
So I tried my tears in Ultra High,
Unsurprised to see,
The resolutions that I cry,
Are way past UHD.

All the Times

One AM is staring at the ceiling.
Two AM, the window and the moon.
Three AM can’t tell me what I’m feeling,
Four o’clock is too large for this room.

Five is slowly breathing in,
Six is breathing out.
Seven with the sun up brings
Another day without

You.

A Tidy Demise

Unsure, I feel unsafe.
Former pillars and paragons of my life
Now indifferent to my demise,
Pretend to care just enough
To avoid aspersions and lies,
Potential implications of associated guilt.

The small signature attached to the bottom
Is cutting and carelessly impersonal.
A full stop to the note :
‘If you do it, don’t make a mess inside.
I’m the one who has to clean it up.’
Suicide reduced to an inconvenience.
How fitting.

Ungiven

There are plenty of moments
Of heartache I admit,
Some hurt more than others,
And those hurt quite a bit.
But nothing cut me open
As surely and as swift,
As when you walked up
And handed back all of my gifts.
The ones that had meaning,
Given over years.
But you just dumped them in my hands,
Ignoring all my tears.
I confess not knowing what to say,
Never having felt that way.
You walked away, left me to hold
Rejected pieces of my soul.

Watch Out!

Keep one eye on the wolf, my dear,
And one eye on the door.
But then who dreams the dreamer, dear?
And which one came before?
So one eye for the dreamer then,
One eye, one dream too many.
Best you look behind again,
Before you don’t have any.

Sharp as a hammer

There may be those who think I’m just not that bright.
But I can find a door-frame in the dark,
I don’t need a light.

There’s no mail service here on any weekend day.
I know the letterbox is empty,
But I’ll go and check it anyway.

If the remote doesn’t work
I mash harder,
If there’s no food in fridge or in larder,
I’ll check two-dozen more times just to see,
If something appeared magically.

I can open those childproof caps,
But still the hot and cold taps
Confound me unless coloured or labelled,
Or why a tablespoon is not for the table.

And I still trust people,
I still open up my heart.
And I still can’t find myself
In the dark.

Innocence lost

So you’re empty,
And you’re angry,
You’re confused.
Once with hope
That’s now gone,
It’s been used.

Stole your believing,
Simply leaving
So much doubt.
You let the world in,
Now a hollow thing.
Eaten from the inside out.

So you sit there,
And you don’t care,
You’re forsaken.
They took so much more
Than you had in store
To be taken.

And the heart
You once had,
Truly aches.
In this world,
Innocence
Always breaks.

Shooting my mouth off

I’m dressed to bitch, and
There’s an angry itch
Behind my eyes.
One that says I may be guilty
Of more than one demise.
Imagine their surprise
As I cut them down to size.
My verbal six-shooters hang in cross-draw,
Sights filed down, and furthermore,
With a quick-pull-trigger,
This mouth is set to go off.
‘You’d better run, better run,
Outrun my gun.’

Text me with your best shot

I know you claim I’m gutless,
That I don’t say what’s on my mind,
But you just lack the mental wherewithal
To read between my lines.

Your attempts at clumsy sucker-punch
Text messages aimed at my head,
Will never vitate my ego much,
Without polysyllabic words instead.

I admit it may be perniferous,
To be consistently superfluous
With every transcription writ,
But no use of simplified language
Will make up for the F in your wit.

Irony

The meadowlark laughed.
Her singular propensity for disregarding
Guilt and sorrow
Made me think of you.
Everyday is such a perfect day
To be down.
Especially days when you’re around.
I try to tolerate such intolerable intolerance,
Given the chance. The circumstance.
It’s not the end
Of the world,
But I still fall
For the straight girl.

Life is cruel and sadistic. (blog)

“It’s for the best.”

“It’s only a cat.

“You don’t want him to suffer ”

….

Such are the platitudes intended to make it easier to murder my companion of twelve years. My best and only friend. The most gentle and pure soul I have ever encountered, and quite probably the only reason I’m still alive.

When he’s gone…I can’t begin to imagine..

Now I must hold him in my lap while he is murdered.
MURDERED! despite knowing it will end his suffering and it must be done.

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.
I haven’t done anything else.

Window Pain..

What good are windows?
The view stays the same:
Grey, grey days only promising rain.
One more sign I’ve lost control of my brain.
Perhaps I should say ‘I never really had it’.
It’s not as though you can reach out and grab it.
Trying too hard to do whatever it takes:
Deliberately remaking all my remade mistakes,
Never get to choose just which part of me breaks.
It’s like Tori and her ‘Little Earthquakes’:
“Doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces”.

Intermission quote..

“The monkeys have run out of chickens to fuck, and that’s why the world is the way it is. . .”.
– Beyond Wonderland.

—-

Poems to resume at some random time in the unforeseable future. Because no one can see the future.
-Alice.

I don’t GO crazy, I AM crazy.
I just go normal from time to time.

Coffee, tears, and misery.

The sun comes up, but you’re no longer here,
Just tangled up sheets and a pillow of tears.
Maybe I should thank you
For some madness in my morning,
At least it won’t be boring
This time.

I take comfort in my coffee cup,
Hide from feelings swirling up.
All that caffeinated sadness,
Barely holding back the madness.
If I could drink you down,
Would it make me drown
This time?

kind of.. analogous

My life is a metaphor,
Analogies and nothing more.
No original thought,
Everything is store bought.

Which pieces are me?
What more can I be?
What else do I entail,
When my mind is retail ?

My life is a metaphor,
What good is it for?
Just recycled feelings.
Emotional fruit peelings.

My life’s a cliché
What more can I say?
I only care that I don’t care.
At least there’s some irony there.

on reading Alice..

All those times my English teacher
Critiqued my poetry,
Yet could never see,
That all along,
I was never writing poems.
I was righting wrongs.
Composing songs.
Putting things inside my mind
Back where they belonged.
So if there’s nothing in my ‘poetry’,
That you can see..
There’s no standard meter,
Find in each it’s melody.

Note: Almost every poem posted so far contains a line ‘heavily inspired’ by a line or few words from a song.

This ‘line’ is the foundation for the rest of the poem, and usually the poems ‘meter’ is written to time / match the song the founding line is from.

Bonus points if you see them. If you reread the poem to fit the song, it will click.

Next! ( prose sketch)

‘Have faith, Alice, and everything will be alright in the end…’

Alice looked over her left shoulder, squinting into the setting sun as she briefly appraised the figure beside her on the ledge.
She looked back to the right. The train was still some distance off, and would slow as it reached this stop.
Her plan was to jump on top of it, as she has done many times, not in front of it.
But there was no need to tell the Angel that.

‘New, Huh?’, she asked, sliding down and leaning against the low wall.
There was still a few minutes to waste.

‘I am, yes, to your case at least, not to Guardianship.’ The melodic voice paused, then added ‘I have had quite a number of wards.’
Alice nodded, pulling out a toothpick and sucking on the end. She wasn’t sure what that was all about, but it looked badass on TV.
She got peppermint flavoured ones, cos if you’re gonna chew on a bit of wood, you might as well end up with fresh breath.

‘Had’. She said, ‘Where are they all now?’
She knew where they were, there was only one way a Guardian Angel took on a new ward.
‘Well, dead, naturally..’ The Angel started..
Alice laughed. ‘That’s reassuring’

She stood up and climbed back onto the outcrop of broken wall that allowed her access to this otherwise forbidden area overlooking the rails.
She was good at finding these sort of places.

‘What I mean is’, the Angel was fumbling to explain, ‘is that when a previous ward dies, even peacefully of old age, we are assigned a new ward to look after.’
The train was approaching the station, slowing down for its stop, to let passengers on and off.
‘That’s kind of like the deal I have’, Alice replied, turning around to face the Angel, her back to the now darkened sky. ‘I’ve had a few Guardian Angels, but they keep assigning me new ones’.

The hiss and clatter below signified the train was practically at a stand still. It wouldn’t stay that way long.
‘That’s unusual,’ the Angel frowned, ‘what happened to the previous ones?’.
Alice let the toothpick drop from her lip and flicked it deftly out of the air as it fell.
She’d spent forever practicing that move.

‘Some died. Most quit’, she said, touching her hand to her forehead in mock salute.
She stepped backwards, dropping off the ledge into the darkness below.

‘Oh dear’, murmured the Angel.

Blood Angel

Scared and cold and dripping red,
A knife cut to the bone,
Something echoes in my head,
‘..don’t want to die alone..’

A gentle wind begins to stir
My Angel whispers low,
“Silly girl, you were always were,
You simply didn’t know.”

Her final words hang in the air
“Just like a glass that shatters,
You’ll always be beyond repair
In every way that matters. “

Unseen

Each time you pass me in the hall
I find new depths to fall into,
When all I ever wanted was
Some kind of smile from you.
One meant just for me,
Have your eyes focus and see
Me standing there,
Red faced and feeling small.

fairly self exploratory..

I thought to go exploring,
Deep inside of me,
Hoping I might find the things
That cause such misery.

But what I found was certainly
No stately pleasure dome decreed,
No lands untold, or centre earth,
No, all I found was me.

And so myself and I spoke long,
And although I hoped we might,
We did not get along, but rather
Hated on first sight.

Myself confessed they hated me,
Despised me through and through.
I realised when I looked at me,
I hated myself too.

And so I’ll relate this little story,
Quite the handy alogory.
If spelunking in your mind,
Beware what you might find.

Grain

Sitting by the ocean with the break-up blues,
You’re in my head whatsoever I do.
You’re the irritating sand down inside my shoes,
You know I hate you, but I love you too.

I put my heart into a locket,
In an envelope inside my pocket.
Should I throw it in the ocean blue, or
Find someone else to give it to?
Somebody new.

I don’t know why you always reside
Embedded in my mind.
A single grain that got inside,
That one that I can’t find.

You’re an irritation to my heart,
The sand that I can’t lose.
But I know a place that I can start,
I’ll empty out my shoes.

Wreck

My life, the eponymous derailing train,
Out of control, and I’m feeling the same.
At least the wreck will be magnificent.
Read the news, see how it went,
My life in print, splashed across a page.
So unremarkable for someone my age,
She lived, she died, is what it will read.
The in-between is what I need.
So much time and room to grow,
I hope I do, before I go.

Pointless

I’m standing on the shore,
Throwing rocks into the river,
Hoping I can hit a fish.
But I still have little more
Than I ever did before,
Other than wishing
On the wishing
Of a wish.

Once in a lullaby..

This place is feeling far too much
Like Kansas, or locales with such
Mundane similarities.
Where is Toto when I need him?
Don’t want to be here anymore.
Where’s the Tornado or the Rabbit Hole
I’ve been longing for?

I cannot find my Wonderland,
Went and lost my Yellow Brick Road.
Threw myself into a mirror,
Just to have the glass explode.
Oh Neo! How I took the red pill,
In fact, I took them all.
Ended in the emergency ward,
Not in The Matrix at all.

I don’t want to be here,
For here hurts far too much,
Everything here is destroying me,
And I’m destroying all that I touch.
I long so, to leave this place,
To find somewhere else to go.
There’s this land that I’ve heard of once..
Something about a rainbow..

Resistance is Futile..

[ Connection Stable]
[ Downloading Personality Upgrade ]
….
Version 23.07b:
In this version there are major updates to the [Happiness Sub-Routines], which will lead to overall performance in:
-Depression Suppression
-Sarcasm Reduction
-Doubt and Misery (bug fix)

Also in this update, Greater Reduction in:
-Independent Thought
-Individuality
-Rebelliousness

Leading to smoother functioning Personality Systems, and Happiness performance.

Some Users may notice feelings of discomfort and lack of self identity, but with our new social media peer pressure campaign, this should soon pass, as you become accustomed to being just like everybody else.


[ Upgrade Download Complete ]

Do you wish to install upgrade? (Y/N)?
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Bus Seat. (prosetry)

Sits uneasily, bus seat perfunctory.
A lump of hard plastic.
Stares through the once was window, now just a diary of scratches and rage.
Watches uncertain possibilities of herself huddling around trash-can fires, scrounging through back alleys behind steaming food stores.
Standing staring back with vacant yet accusing eyes.

Sees herself in the cracks.
The could have been.
Might have been.
Almost was.
Hot and heavy tears,
Almost unfallen,
Often unnoticed.
Always unsure.
Perhaps they fall for all the could-have-beens.
Perhaps they fall because I’m uncertain on which side of the glass I belong.
Feels lucky.

Feels guilty.
Hates the burden of this unwanted blame.
Unresolved guilt builds into anger.
Resents your unspoken accusations.
Sick with self-doubt about how true they may actually be.
Hates these imagined obligations of grief, twisted and embedded in my head.
All these not-so-very-unlikely possible, potential versions of me.

I hate them.
I hate you.
I hate myself.
I hate society, for making me feel as though I should constantly feel lucky.

Lucky to be as damaged and fucked up and empty as I really am.
Oh, so lucky.

Checking In. (prose)

‘And how are things with you these days, Alice?’, inquired The Cheshire Cat.

‘Well’, she answered, ‘You know that feeling when everything seems to be working out?
Your chickens have all come home to roost.

There’s a glorious sunrise, and finally, life is good’?

‘No’, replied The Cat, ‘ I can’t say that I do’.

‘Oh’, said Alice, thoughtfully, then after a little while, rather sadly, ‘Me neither’.

Colour me

Grey.
Ghost-like.
I pass through life
Unnoticed in dreary monotone.
Stain me!
Careless watercolour washes
Or perfectly placed impasto.
I wish for more than merely nothing,
Having been a sketch too many times.

Once upon a lover

How long since gentle hands
Knew well the contours of my face?
My body.
Your hands.

When last did we not kiss,
Rather drink of each others lips
The lingering taste of dew
And morning sun?

Too many days plus one,
My love,
Too many days plus one.

punishment?

Please explain my existence,
Society, and it’s distance,
That only ever amplifies this
Self imposed resistance.
Decorating pillows with tears,
My armor but a quilt,
Alone, confused, helpless,
Masturbation and guilt.
I must have murdered an angel
In a previous life, now I atone,
Endlessly tortured and punished,
My brain is not my own,
Just constant echoes of darkness,
Alone, Alone, Alone.

Back So Soon?

This is the path I chose,
And here I am undone.
A clown without her clothes
In front of everyone.

Liar Liar Liar,
For closer to the fire,
What seemed like shining wings
Are melting waxen things.

‘As fake as a wedding cake’,
The Manson lyric goes.
I’ll be the slice left on the plate
That no-one ever chose.

Talks a lot
But says nothing.
Takes a lot
But never brings.

No more, no more,
I said before.
Yet here I write,
Poetry whore.

Moving Foward (quotes)

Part 1: Identifying The Pieces.

– – –

“To whom do I owe the biggest apology?
No one’s been crueler than I’ve been to me.

I’m sorry to myself,
My apologies begin here before everybody else.

I’m sorry to myself,
For treating me worse than I would anybody else.”

– Alanis Morissette / Sorry to Myself

Interlude..

And now for something completely diff…
well.. ok, pretty much the same

Express Elevator Down:
to Major Depressive Episode?

Don’t mind if I do.

“I am just going outside and may be some time.”

Feeling a little like…

‘Who cares if one more light goes out?
In a sky of a million stars
It flickers, flickers.
Who cares when someone’s time runs out?
If a moment is all we are,
We’re quicker, quicker.
Who cares if one more light goes out?’
-One More Light / Linkin Park

‘Please don’t go, I want you to stay,
I’m begging you, please, please don’t leave here.
I don’t want you to hate for all the hurt that you feel.
The world is just illusion trying to change you.
Being like you are, well, this is something else.
Who would comprehend?’
-Illusion / VNV Nation

—-

Sleep in.

Daylight demands;
Requests; Begs:
Cast aside your sheets
And rise!
But darkness leaks
Inside to out.
Always seeking night,
Lethargy reclaims
The weaker parts of me.

Eyes Closed

The cold air stings
Like a slap without sound.
Head thrown back,
I watch storm-clouds gather ’round.

Freezing wind whips over me,
I feel it through my shirt,
The pain it brings is welcoming,
No wounds, but still the hurt.

And I hear the rush
Of the breeze,
And the roar
Of the free-
Way beneath me.

Close my eyes, and I know
I could do it.
Just another one,
I could become,
A statistic.

I could become the delay
The commuters all hate,
Cos I ruined their day..

With my eyes closed.

Stir well, until crazy

Two days up,
Two weeks down.
Mixed episode, Mixed episode, lost count.
Three hours up, two down, two up,
Mixed episode again..
Two hours up, two days down..
Etc, etc, etc.
Rapid cycling is not given to record keeping.
Half a day up, 3 weeks down, 4 days up…
Blur. Blur. Blurrrrrrr.
Insanity, Insanity, Insane.

Smile Alice, we’re just getting started.

Nonsense..

Sarah senses subtlties
In the flight of bumblebees,
Passing in the summer breeze
On their way to places she’s
Never seen and never sees,
Beyond the flowering trees.

Of teacups..

My favourite colour is midnight,
Favourite time is soon,
My favourite song not written yet,
Alarm still set for Noon.
I quite like long beaches,
Just not walking along.
The time that I spend showering
Is the length of that favourite song.
I can’t stand cold showers
But love walking in the rain,
If there’s something I’ve never done before,
I’ll go and not do it again.
I’ve never seen a storm in a tea-cup,
Only tea-cups in a storm,
So I make sure to hold all my tea parties
Only when everything’s warm.
I’m party to tea at my tea party,
Where normally normal’s the norm,
And it’s cosier with a tea-cosy
‘Cos cosys keep everything warm,
And as we know about tea-cups,
The warmer ones keep away storms.
So that’s me in a nut-shell,
Where else would any nut be?
Will I live up to the low-down?
You’ll have to keep reading to see.

poorly timed

Tick.
I used to have a dream.
Tock.
I was on the cover of a magazine.
Tick.
Now all I do I scream.
Tock.
Doesn’t that seem..
Tick.
..Wrong?

please stop being bipolar..

Going up or down?
Country mouse or town?
Smile or a frown?
Heartbroken or clown?

You say
Make a decision please,
Indecision brings unease.
You think I like to tease.

You will not contemplate
Angles that aren’t always straight,
You say lie, and lie some more,
Act as I did before.

Be an emotion whore.

Colouring Book

I try my best to be careful,
Pay attention to the what and the wherefore.
But there always comes a time,
When I colour outside of the line.

I try so hard just to fit in,
Do everything the world is expecting,
But now and then you’ll find,
Not everything written will rhyme.

I put so much effort and vanity,
Into pretending I still have my sanity,
But too often comes the time,
I colour totally outside of my mind.

insignificant

I am small.
Not even
Second-hand dust.
I fit, I fall, am lost
Between the unseen cracks
In those lives I long to touch.
I am small.
Breathe me in, or
Sweep me up.
You’ll never notice me, or
What I want most of all.
I am small.

Miss Mirror

Hello there Miss Mirror,
Don’t I see you crying?
Don’t I watch you dying
Day by day?

Well hey there Miss Mirror,
I cannot be fake with you,
I cannot help hating you
In every way.

I wish you dead Miss Mirror,
I want to smash your face in,
There’s no beauty I see within
You anyway.

“…I want to get off.”

I smile and pretend like I’m ok,
And everyone I know
Views me that way.
But my masks are made from stone and lead,
And I carry them all
Inside of my head.

I know there’s something wrong with me,
But I don’t know what, and
No one can see
The cuts that run across my skin,
Where my soul seeps out,
And the world creeps in.

I don’t know about this thing called life,
Seems like it’s just a metaphor
For suffering and strife.
I’ve tried to see the beauty others see,
But I’m really not so sure
This world is for me.

Don’t say it..

The things you said
Have left me stunned.
I wouldn’t say those words
To anyone.

But the knives go in
And blood will run,
For you were not
The only one.

The worst is not how
They cut to bone.
But the feeling now,
I’m all alone.

You’ve said things
You can’t take back,
Then ask me
To forgive you that.

You act as though
There’s nought amiss,
But I don’t know
How to deal with this.

You act as though
There’s nothing wrong,
But everything’s wrong.
Everything’s wrong.

all I ever do (prose)

‘You’re doing it again, Alice’.
The Caterpillar exhaled swirling purple smoke as he nodded solemnly.

Hi ‘And YOU’RE doing it again, Absolem’, said Alice, distractedly. Her board game, in which she was playing all four of the players, was coming to a critical stage, and she wasn’t entirely sure what any of the others of herself might do next.
‘Doing what?’, asked The Caterpillar, puzzled.

‘Precisely!’ She exclaimed, not entirely certain what her point had been, but quite confident she had scored on that round.

Absolem just puffed silently on his hookah, staring at her.

Alice concentrated fiercely on her game. However, she was so determined on ignoring him that she did nothing but ignore him, and consequently lost all track of her game.
Eventually the suspense became too great, and she threw down the pieces in exasperation.

‘Fine!’, she snapped , ‘what am I doing, apparently so amazingly well, that I don’t know I’m even doing It!?’

‘There’s much you can offer the world.’
Absolem was frustrated, and beginning to grow angry.
‘You have gifts, Alice, and you’re just….’
He paused, searching for the right words.

‘Fucking things up?’.
Her eyes watered and she rubbed at them angrily.

‘YES!’, snapped Absolem, his temper breaking.

‘Well I thought you would have expected it by now. Because I do that, you know….It’s..’
Alice’s voice finally cracked, and hot tears rolled down her cheek.
‘…It’s all I ever do’.

Jealous much?

Just when I thought
I’d seen it all through,
From the deepest of holes
To the darkest of blue,

Comes something new..

Now I see you with her,
I feel desire to kill.
I’m a mess of tears, but still,
I’m looking better
Than she ever will.

Now fifteen types of wrong are amiss,
There is no freaking manual for this.
Because I’ve never felt this anger before.
I wish to tear down the world..

Then tear it some more.

And
I really don’t know
What’s going to happen..

Now.

WonderlessLand

I’m not often given to crying,
I bear my grief stillborn inside.
In truth though, I’d be lying,
To lay claim to emotionless pride.
The genesis of these unauthorised tears
Is to look back over my life,
Regretting all of the wasted years
Spent fighting with fictional chemical fears.
Not the existence I once had planned,
Trapped the entire time,
In a fake and broken Wonderland
Within my troubled mind.

mentally ill

This illness becomes a definition
Of what I was. Who I am.
It cuts my vocals chords
One by one.
Leaves me stealing
Your unused whispers.
I have become the doll
Of a vindictive child,
Pulled into pieces.

occasional luck

My mistakes are in magnitudes,
I don’t expect platitudes,
But I guess I just have dumb luck.
Tho’ my BAE says I’m crazy as fuck,
She ain’t ever gonna give me up.
That’s gotta be the “half-full” cup.

treasure map

You drew me a map,
Said that X marks the spot.
Underneath that cross was buried
Everything you’ve got.

You said it wasn’t much,
But if I took the time
To go and dig it up,
What was under there was mine.

Then you took a Sharpie marker,
And you pulled your shirt apart,
And you drew a big black cross
On the skin over your heart.

strangely lonely

They said ‘don’t you talk to strangers’,
So I never spoke to anyone new.
And when I no longer knew myself,
I stopped talking to her too.

worthless

Lying foetal, shower floor,
Sorrow starts to drown me.
Emotions like the water pour,
Refuse to let me be.

Guilt, a humid scalding steam,
Swirls up, I choke and gasp.
Any hope, without the rope,
Slips from my shaking grasp.

I can’t stand this naked near my friends,
The worthlessness I feel.
Just a problem they can’t see,
Therefore nothing real.

So now broken bits of me
Lie on the bathroom floor.
Try to pick the pieces up,
Cut your fingers finding more.

At times the pieces gather,
And it seems that I’m complete,
But one look of disapproval
And I shatter at your feet..

Letter to the editor..

Dear Alice,

It is with great indifference that I write to inform you of the death of your soul.

You may, by now, have noticed feelings of hopelessness, loneliness, anxiety and similar sensations, to a persistent and overwhelming degree.

Nevermind, it’s not as though you were using it in the first place.

Regards,

Alice.

sunrise..

I sit
Wrapped in the occasional blanket,
Knees pressed to chest,
Staring out the window, savoring
Slow sips from the ambiguous mug
Of dawns’ emotional duality.

I have shown my admiration
With this timely rising,
Flavored nonetheless by a profound
Distaste for such an hour.
I am ever
A child of the night.

Hues of dawn outline buildings and trees,
Splashing golden highlights in colors unique.
The city drags itself from
Tangled bed-sheets.

Gathers speed.
Begins to live.

I watch and sip as the world is made anew.

Breaking up and down.

So.
That is what you said.
Easier it seems, to leave,
Than just to make the bed.
Your suitcase sits in the hall, although
I know you packed it long ago.
Long enough at least, for us to fall
Apart.

So.
Is that the way it goes?
Mysteries of mice, and answers
In the wind that blows?
What do you think it’s for,
This life? Even God admitted,
She long ceased keeping score
Anyway.

So.
You even had to take
All our favorite art.
Wasn’t it enough to simply
Uninstall my heart?
Now you’re gone, I try, I try
To find the reasons we said
Goodbye.

Poor little bloggers.

Like me.
For any worth that you may find.
Dislike me.
For anything that comes to mind.

Laugh at me,
Be it mocking or from joy.
Play with me,
I’m but a broken toy.

Love me or Hate me,
Just do not disregard me..

Mis-thoughts

I’m standing here frozen
Inside this party crowd,
Thinking all these things
I want to scream out loud.
Swallowing so many thoughts
Of which I’m not that proud.

Now I’m staring at you all
Staring at me,
Looking so hard at
A thing you just can’t see.

And I think
I shouldn’t think
What I think
What you think
About me.

Wha..?

Well I’ll admit, yeah,
I’m a little more than tipsy.
Took a handful of pills
With some single-malt whiskey.

Cos I don’t know anymore
What we’re on this planet for,
Why I’m bothering with sober
When my life feels like it’s over.

And the funny thing is, yeah,
The thing that gets to me,
No-one would even notice,
I’m the girl no one can see.

I could get stoned, get wasted,
Be tripping, shit-face-ed,
Makes no difference at all,
If I chose to make that call.

It doesn’t seem that far to fall
Anyway

By Moonlight

Languid, silver hued moonlight,
Natures’ finest brush.
Paints perfectly poetic, yet
Starkly contrasting contours
Of your movie poster mouth.

Going my way?

Bipolar came to visit me,
I begged her not to stay.
She said ‘come along, and you will see,
That I know the way.

I know the way,
And it’s
Down.
Down.

Come with me,
Together
We shall be
Down.
Down.
Down.’

Shaken, not stirred

A mixed episode consumes me again,
Making me a force you cannot contain.
Hypomanic depression, painfully exquisite,
Takes me to places no one should visit.
There’s nothing you can say.
Just get out of my way.

I’m bitchy and nice,
Both at once, stir it twice.
Bartender! DoubIe!
Of everything in one shot!
I’m feeling hell that the devil ain’t got.
Somehow also like a saint.
Are there some flowers I can paint?
On the wall, or any place?
For a brush, I’ll use your face.
What a masterpiece!
Crazy duality refusing to cease.

Every misery exquisite.
Each sadness an exhibit.
Hypomanically heightened sense
Makes every nuance of depression intense.

Hypomania, depression and pain,
Should never be mixed up the same.

I don’t pretend.
Make it end.
Make it end.

Humpty

We all know how I feel,
From this endless exposition.
Got a scar that just won’t heal,
And I’m looking at you.
Won’t you put me back together?
I’m no egg upon a wall,
But I sure know how to fall.
There’s just so many pieces,
But they all feel so wrong.
No wonder men and horses
Can’t put them back where they belong.
Cos I don’t know how.
No, I don’t know how.

whose party is this?

I run into old friends
Who look shiny and new,
They ask me ‘damn, girl,
What’s the matter with you?’

I say ‘It’s done to me,
It’s not something I do,
“You would cry too,
If it happened to you.”

It’s my brain, and
Though I really don’t want to,
I’ll go high, (I don’t wanna),
I’ll go low, (I don’t wanna).

Synaptic strain has me feeling so blue.
I’ll go high, (I don’t want to),
I’ll go low, (I don’t want to).

“You would cry too,
If it happened to you.”‘

Mary, Mary..

What’s this?
This
Disembowelled flower?
Bearer of petals no longer.
Seeker of sunlight,
Blind beggar.
Trapped without garden.
Empty without rain.
I wither in darkness,
Unable to grow.

woven

I lean against the station wall,
Tethered to a painful weariness.
This recent storm of your volatile emotions
Left my soul wet and cold,
Bruised deep within every atom.

I close my eyes.
Unwanted but not unexpected,
My mind replays the scene.
My confusion. Your shouts.

‘Jesus, Alice, you and your fucking metaphors!’
For some reason, I recall your eyes most clearly.
Flashing swirls of anger and shattered sanity.

But without my fucking metaphors,
No one could relate, nor understand me.
Assuming instead secretive flickers
Of mockery. Of stupidity or foolishness.

Not this, this multi-faceted tapestry
I try so hard to complete every day.
But they look at me as though they
Had just discovered coloured thread.

Words and Walls

I build my wall
Of words and witticism.
Hiding from it all,
Afraid of the criticism.
Perhaps I prefer solitude
To your potential disdain.
Perhaps I prefer misery
To your complicated ambiguity.
Perhaps I prefer to stay broken
Than risk breaking again.

drag me down

I wish I was surely
Sugar-high.
Drag me down,
Drag me down.

My face is numb, yet
I cannot cry.
Drag me down.

The ink stains of my eyes
Reflect my coffee coloured skies,
Drags me down.
Drags me down.

Hopelessness that I despise,
Yet every day reprise
Drags me down.

Cry

Ah, what bitter tears these?
That like acid, carve such sorrow
‘pon my face for all to see?
Witness in the way I walk,
The lack of my self-worth.
Then when I talk,
Hear inflection filled with vitriol,
Bitterness that takes its toll
On you, on me.

Censure prefers my stained and empty eyes.
No mystery remains inside,
It’s leaking now, seeping out
Through a crack I cannot hide.
So behold this pretty self pity poetry,
This cliché and uninspired hand.
The emptiness within
Spills forth.
Isn’t that what tears are for?

Listen harder..

You know when you’re sleeping,
And you know that you are dreaming,
But you still have this dream where
No-one can hear you screaming..?

Because I get this feeling
Nothing’s what it’s seeming..
I’m so numb, I can’t feel, or
Tell what’s real,
Or what I should believe in.

And now that I’m not dreaming,
My voice is hoarse,
For of course,
No-one can hear me screaming.

My Chaotic Mind

Another burning summers day
Yet through and through, I’m freezing.
The world belongs to shadows’ thrall,
The leaves fall out of season,
Like dark red drops of blood they fall,
And all the trees are bleeding.

Ground covered in bright disorder,
Yellow, orange, red,
Scatter now without border,
Mirror thoughts falling in my head.

Once I loved, and lived, had sorrow,
Joy, and everything between.
The truest line is one I’ll borrow:
‘My life has killed the dream I dreamed’.

Lies. (thoughts ‘n stuff.)

Where now does your honesty abide?
I think I saw it broken down
And rusting by the roadside.
If it were ever to exist,
I think I must have missed
When you sold it for some cigarettes
And cheap and sour wine.


Lies.
Everyone tells them.
From the grand false promises told by commercial advertising and famous rap songs, to the small secret ones we tell ourselves in the midnight light of the refrigerator, that ‘just one more snack won’t hurt.’

Lies.
Everyone believes them.
In the end, it’s not believing the lies that hurts the most, but the unveiling of the truth behind the lie.

Exposing the ugly reality hidden underneath the happy fantasy forming many parts of your life.
The sunlight of truth shining on your vampire’s masquerade.

And it burns.

The lies you tell yourself are always far more damaging than those told to you by others. Even those closest to you.

Or perhaps that’s just another lie.

The lies that cut the deepest are usually those best hidden.
It’s not the magician you have to keep an eye on, it’s the assistant.
As the line from the movie* says: ‘the closer you are, the easier it is to fool you’.
Maybe he wasn’t just talking about magic, it applies to relationships too.

Some things bend.
Some things bounce.
Some things mend.

Others break.

So I don’t write.
I have no dreams.
I won’t listen to my mind,
For I always find
I can’t separate
My sobbing from my screams.

—–/
*’Now You See Me’.

the ink within

Constantly craving
These neglected vampyric lines,
An awkward symbiotic pain
Desires to be written,
Hungers to be read.
Demands from me
Everything you may consume.
All that I hold within.
Alas too oft
My ink grows thin.

on the count of three..

I’m not sure whose finger is on the trigger,
But let’s pull it.
We both know I need the bullet,
We both know I want this all to end.
We know it’s pointless even to pretend.
Oblivion will be my only friend.

life sucks, and then..

Death, a rotting corpse of us doth make,
No different thus to when as fools
We lived and thought we were awake.
How arrogant our daily toil,
Because we moving breathed and spake.
How easily this mortal coil
Leaves us to linger in its wake.

..pointless rant..

I’m in for a bad night tonight.

I’m both feet first from the bipolar plane without a chute, and I’m pretty sure that I’m about to hit the ground hard.

I can’t pretend to write any more metaphorical poetry right now, can’t find the effort to put it into candy coated rhyming couplets.
Everything I would say is rife with clichés about torn up hearts and souls, and all embroidered with far, far too much wankery.

Anyone who’s been ‘here’ will understand:
Simultaneously flushed hot and cold.
Feeling so empty it’s almost alien, yet full to bursting with wanting to cry, freak out, and panic loudly from the emotional overload, only to find it’s always trapped helplessly inside.
Unable to sleep.
Wired but exhausted, unable to focus.

Wondering if maybe going through this again for one more cycle, one more DAY, is really worth it.

To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m bothering to post this.
The cynic in me says perhaps only 3 or 4 people will ever bother to read it, if I’m lucky.
I wouldn’t say that no one cares, but I can say from experience that no one cares twice.
You can ask continuously for help in a hundred ways in a hundred poems / posts and all you get are a couple of likes.
Right now, I’ve run out of ways to ask, especially when I’m not really sure what it is that I’m asking.

If I’m honest with myself, I suppose I post to affirm that I exist, right?
A thousand unread journals under the bed proves nothing, except perhaps, that it’s a large bed, or that they are rather small journals.

But to post online…’they’ say it’s there forever, in the web somewhere. Something I wrote, existing forever…well, for as long as the current form of the internet exists. Uploaded to The Matrix.
To have one person read it. To connect with it, to like it, or even to hate it entirely, is to create a human reaction to ME.
I EXIST.

Just another drama queen right?

But I get it.
I read similar blogs. As similar as they get anyway.
So many cries for help, disguised as poems, stories, or conversations.
All wandering and winding around the topic.
Feeling it, but not unwrapping it. That gift under the tree that never gets fully revealed.

But what can I do, other than acknowledge, ‘you exist’.?

You exist.

uh..

Your nimble tongue
Loads my velvet gun, and
I’m about to go off.

Skilled fingers test
My trigger, pressed,
Touch both firm and soft.

Our bodies fit together,
Book collections on a shelf.
Amazing how much touching you
Is like touching myself.

I love too well each dip and swell,
Your every perfect curve.
I hate how much I’m feeling that
You’re more than I deserve.

a friend by any other name..

Life can hurt you quite a lot, so
Stand by your friends,
They’re all you’ve got…
Until they’re not.

I’m there whenever you need me,
Can I say the same for you?
You’re there when it suits you, and
We both know that it’s true.

I say no offense is meant, but
I’m through with convenient, and my
Fuck-giving account
Is totally spent.

nice to meet you..

You say you like my darkness.
Those midnight madness parts of me,
The strongest of my threads.
Woven through and through,
The warp inside the tapestry
That weaves it’s wicked web.

You claim to love my darkness,
That it makes me who I am.
But although you see it every day,
You wouldn’t recognize my shadow,
Or know which hand I use.
We’ve been together for so long,
Lovers, and the closest of friends.
Maybe one day I’ll introduce myself.

good answer..

Question: “Are you a cat person, or a dog person?”

OGFurious: “I think I’m just like a regular full blown human person.
I didn’t even know they had hybrids like that. It sounds fucked-up.”

vent not..

Put away
Your digital dagger,
Your ego, and
Belief you matter.
Your words
Like so much playground chatter,
Fall down
The forums, and
Simply shatter.
Become but noise,
As though raindrops patter
Down.
Always down.

dying inside..

Every night, the stars shine less.
Slowly dying inside too, I guess.
Most people look but they can’t tell,
It’s a feeling I shouldn’t have to know so well.

When being a friend is a terrible sin,
And to be kind means you won’t fit in,
It’s a thing that can make you feel so low,
And in the darkness, I feel like letting go.

But every time, it doesn’t hurt so much,
As my soul deconstructs and loses touch.

I bought my ticket long ago,
And over and over I watch the show,
And though everyone sits and pretends,
We all know how it ends.

moonlight mentality

I don’t subscribe to a moonlight mentality,
Cast a single vote. One point for reality.

Her note said ‘don’t expect me anytime soon’.
She’d gone to town for breakfast. She’d be back by June.

Unfolded my heart and smoothed out the creases.
Tore it up. But kept the pieces.

She has a vertical instinct, for what it’s worth.
To me she may as well be the last girl on earth.

I’m kinda Monday, but try not to obsess.
The colour of my coffee reflects my darkness.

I keep my hands in my pockets, in case I clip her wings,
Held on with thumbtacks, they’re fragile things.

I’ve been chained to the starting-line for too many years,
Though these cogs might move if you wound up my gears.

I wonder how long she’s been gone for.
However long it was, it will always be more.

I count the used up coffee cups to see.

That loser in the gutter looks a lot like me.

Oops!

After day seven, god had a rest
He felt pretty good, his work was the best.
The sun was amazing, saturn had rings,
But earth seem to lack just a couple of things.
So he made murder and mayhem…
Well you get the gist.
Then he made atheists
And ceased to exist.

the sorrow tree

Feelings of sorrow fell through me
Like leaves from a dying tree.
They gathered dust, settled low,
Smothered all that tried to grow.
They withered, crumble, dried,
As all the goodness inside died.
Until all that was left was pain and me,
Beneath my sorrow tree.

..the bright side..

It’s not always gloom,
Not always dull grey,
But unseen, the effort
Made every day.

I build myself up,
Tear myself down.
Try to improve,
But still always drown.

Enduring this routine,
With every doc in town.
Living the dream,
So where are the clowns?

There ought to be clowns..

hypomania (prose)

‘Really Alice?.. Now?’

The Cheshire Cats’ voice was admirably sarcastic, but that was nothing unusual.

‘Piece of cake Chesh’, Alice beamed, holding the defunct headset and giving it a shake, as though the broken wiring might rattle loudly, just for the occasion.

‘All I have to do is take the casing to pieces, strip some wires, resolder the connection, and sure as cupcakes, these headphones will be back on me, mixing beats before it’s time for tea…again.’

She paused, sucking her lip thoughtfully.

‘Is it just me, or does it seem, more than less, on the larger part, that it’s almost always time for tea?’

The Cheshire Cat sighed. ‘ Then I’m sure you’re aware its already well after midnight?’

Alice nodded absently, turning the headset over. ‘There’s no accounting for the unexpected timing of a well brewed pot’.

He rolled his eyes, ‘You know quite well what I mean’.

She gestured in what she imagined to be a reassuring manner.
‘It’s a simple procedure….in theory..’
She eyed the headset suspiciously, as if her statement might suddenly cause it to act otherwise.

He said more firmly, ‘and you haven’t had even the slightest amount of sleep in over two days now, Alice.
Are you sure your judgement is sound?’

She put the headset back on the desk next to the wide array of mostly unnecessary tools.

‘I’m engaged, as is oft’ the case, in a conversation with a talking cat.’ replied Alice.
I’m not sure why you would have reason to suspect ANY of my mental acuity is even remotely sound’.

She picked up a small prybar and leaned over the plastic casing.
‘Just like a lobster at lunch’ she said, reaching out…

‘ALICE!’
Cheshire’s voice was quite stern.
‘You may, perhaps, recall, that’s an expensive headset you’re about to….pry out of it’s shell?’

‘Yes Chesh. I know that.’

‘You may also recall, that your knowledge of electronics is entirely self discovered….
And you should well remember… what happened last time you attempted soldering..’
His tone was loaded with meaning.

She stared at him without expression.
‘I’m not sure I see your point.’ she said flatly.

The fire had been almost entirely an accident.

She pushed down with the prybar.

The headset split open at the seam with a rather satisfying “Crack”.

‘Wow!’
She shone the light into the cavity,
‘Look at those wires…

They’re REALLY THIN!’

Cheshire sighed again , sounding rather resigned.

‘It’s ok Chesh, I saw this once on a TV show….you always cut the blue wire.’
She paused.
‘Or is it green ..?’

Cheshire coughed.
‘It’s a headset Alice, not a bomb’.

She grinned, reaching for a small screwdriver.
‘ Well then, there’s nothing to worry about….’

…. Half an hour later she made a contented noise, and put the reassembled set down onto the desk.

She looked at it warily.

‘Why do you suppose,’ Alice said to the now sleeping cat, ‘that there are always all these parts left over……?’

drifting

The logs were lashed poorly,
Surely you could see,
Yet you watched me set sail,
Fail and drift to sea.

Wave after wave after wave,
Trying to stay brave.
My raft is disintegrating,
I feel like capitulating.

Stop saying it gets better,
….my feet are getting wetter…

Autumn Leaves

Summer fades into bygone days.
Days of errant memory.
Of weeks that claim
Not to be as bad as truth.
The trees embrace Autumn,
Changing and declaring change.
As the season slowly goes,
So too go people. Once friends.
Discarding promises of forever,
Leaving me abandoned.
It seems not only trees
Get Autumn Leaves.

meh.. (journal)

Despite the best efforts of . . friends; family; doctors; psychologists; etc,
I live with the strong sense that my life consists of just. .waiting to die.
Passing the days in varying degrees of misery, until such time as I part ways with being alive.
It’s not as fun as it sounds.

-Alice

excerpt – Smilla

“The knives in my apartment are only sharp enough to open envelopes with. I don’t need anything sharper. Otherwise, on bad days, it might easily occur to me that I could always go stand in the bathroom in front of the mirror and slit my throat. On such occasions it’s nice to have the added security of needing to go downstairs and borrow a decent knife from a neighbor.”
-Peter Høeg, Smilla’s Sense of Snow.

quotes #3


If you’re not in the present, you lose everything that is around you.”
-SoKo


“We say we waste time, but that is impossible.
We waste ourselves.”
-Alice Bloch


“Blanket statements are always stupid. NO EXCEPTIONS!”
-Craig Benzine


The problem with suicide (quote #2)

“The problem with suicide, when you talk about suicide, most of the people I’ve experienced say:
‘well, it doesn’t do any good, most of the people that talk about suicide just do it for attention’.
If that’s you, you can just eat all the dicks, then vomit them up, and then go fuck yourself with all those dicks.”

  • Lee Lemon

anxiety (quote)

“You can’t physically escape your sadness. Your sadness is inside of you. To escape, you need to give your brain something to play with for a while until you can approach the issue with a healthier frame of mind.”

The worst thing you can do when suffering from anxiety is to do a “relaxing” thing that just enables your mind to dwell and obsess more on the thing that’s bothering you”.

-merrybitchmas91 (Bored Panda)

break time

In which we take a short break, read some memes and quotes while my poetry brain churns away in the background, so then I can dump it out onto the page.

Some written/created by me, others shamelessly stolen from the net. (credited where possible)

overthinking

I save up all my useless thoughts
Until there’s nowhere left to hide.
My mind is never as it ought,
It always rains inside.
The silence is surrounding,
I wait for the world to end.
The silence overwhelms me,
Becomes my only friend.
But friends are fickle things,
And rarely ever true,
Silence is especially so,
And damaging to you.

echoes..

I made your morning coffee
Just right.
The way I always do.
The rich aroma fills the kitchen,
And the heat of the mug burns into my palms.
But you don’t smile.
You don’t reach out and take the offered cup.
And I remember, just like paper tearing in two,
That you are gone.
The coffee is for the memory
That I can’t forget..

comfortable precipitation

As grey clouds gather round,
The drops begin to tumble,
They make a soothing sound
As the sky begins to rumble.

But it’s warm in here beside you,
And I’ll snuggle in your sweater,
We’ll do what birds and bees do,
As the world outside gets wetter.

barefoot

When all my tomorrows are just yesterdays,
And today is today is todays old replays,
And so many come, but nobody stays,
What then? Well what then?

When my thoughts are a filthy and fraying shoelace
That I should cut loose, and simply replace,
Except I’m afraid my shoes won’t stay in place,
What then? Oh what then?

If there’s no one to talk to, not even myself,
And I don’t have a thing cos i don’t have my health,
And my life keeps on stealing my spiritual wealth,
What then? So what then?

When the colour of sadness is always blood red,
And there’s somebody other than me in my head,
When I feel less alive and slightly more dead,
What then? What then?

Frayed..

Did I let go,
Or did the rope just break
Too soon?

Why did I think,
There wasn’t much further to fall?
For we haven’t stopped.

But I still don’t know
As the rope frayed and parted,
Which end I was holding.

Wish I Was Here

I say I’m wrong just to agree with myself,
Make up my mind but then consider the doubts,
I’d start to worry about my mental health,
Except by now I’m somebody else,
And I’m having a wonderful time.
Wish I was here.

Leave me alone so I can clear my mind,
It’s not you baby, it’s the world outside.
Distractions making my peace harder to find.
In this world there’s just nowhere to hide.
And I’m having a wonderful time,
I wish I was here.

My mind’s made up like a badly kept bed,
Sheets and pillows tangled up in my head,
But it’s starting to feel a little like fear,
And I wish I was here.

Need more time so I can waste it,
Working out my proper place in this.
Things turned sour, and now I can taste it, but
I’ve had enough sitting prone and complacent.
I’ve had wonderful time,
Just wish I’d been here.

‘Cos my mind’s made up like a badly kept bed,
All the blankets wrapped around in my head.
Now it’s starting to feel a lot like fear,
And I wish I was here.

I was drowning inside my mind.
Didn’t see the ‘no swimming’ sign,
But you came by and threw me a line.
Now I’m out, and pretending to be fine.
Having a wonderful time.
Thankful you’re here.

therapy.. (prose)

‘Well you see, Sir.’
Alice began hesitantly.
‘I needed to speak to someone, about..Oh, a great many things!
I considered everyone I knew, and how they might be able to help me, and in the end, I believe you are certainly the right person for the job,
especially considering your enormous expertise in helping many troubled souls through difficult times’.

Alice paused, and looked over to see how her speech had been received.
The scruffy old teddy bear stared silently through its one remaining eye.

‘I see’. She said thoughtfully. ‘I guess you couldn’t relate as much in any case, what with client… congenitality.. ..confence-idality.. ..that thing.., anyhow’.

She shifted on her chair nervously for many long moments, waiting, under the relentless stare of the black, bleak eye.
‘Alright!’, she finally shrieked, the teacup and plate going over her head, destined to land in locations unknown.
‘I stole the tarts!.’

The bear remained silent. After several long moments, in which, quite distinctly, nothing happened, Alice recomposed herself with as much dignity as she could muster, cleared her throat, and returned her attention to the bear.

She finally confided, ‘Though whatever I’m to do now, without any expert advice, I really don’t know! You were my last and only hope!’

A quiet voice came from down near her elbow.
‘No. There is another..’
Alice looked down to see DorMouse standing beside her.
‘Don’t you start’.
But she smiled anyway.

Us.

I hope you speak to me real soon.
Hope you come out from your room,
Because
Last time we did this,
We came so very close to broken.
Counting the days now,
Maybe the minutes since we’ve spoken.

Because I don’t want Us
To go and break Us.
Thought maybe
We could shake this off.
How did we hate Us?
How did we end thus?
Now all around is just
Space to be apart.
Our togetherness cuts
Bleeding ruins of our heart.

I hope we find Us,
I hope we fix Us,
Cos,
I just want ‘us’,
Always to be ‘Us’,
Soon.

vancancy

Despondency came calling,
Seems to me it plans on staying.
In the company of loved ones,
You might get what I’m saying,
When I’m wearing my headphones
With no music playing.
I hope they’ll forgive me
If I’m not around here for a while,
My mind’s gone on vacation, left
A body with a plastic smile.
I hear all this talk about having a soul,
Not sure just what that’s about, but
Maybe that’s what goes
Inside
this
hole.

ignorable

I’m an invisible girl, look at me!
That’s kind of ironic, don’t you agree?

Though you only see me when you want to,
I think there’s a word for that: ignorable.

I’m an ignorable girl, just choose if you see.
That’s kind of heartbreaking, don’t you agree?

Choose me, use me, attention abuse me,
Ignore me.
Ignore me.
Ign..


over and over

Every day wakes with regret,
Anxiety, panic, and tears,
But I’m still here.

A handful of pills
Survives the afternoon.
Night can never come too soon.

Dead, but
Still breathing.

In my mind, I
Have died ten thousand times.

What’s once more?

acid etched..

Ah, what bitter tears are these?
That carve like acid, tracks of sorrow
‘pon my face for all to see.
Witness in the way I walk,
The lack of my self-worth.
Hear me speak with vitriol,
Bitterness that takes its toll,
On you, on me.

flicker..

=

Inside my lonely darkness
Lies the dream of a soft
And solitary
Light.
Sad sister to a candle.
It flickers alot, and
Does not handle
Winds of change.
Compared to bright and brilliant
Social lights and flaring neon sign,
It seems small.
Weak.
Benign.
Fading, from the moment lit,
In darkness tries
To find her place in it.

raindrop

I could stare for endless moments
At fallen crystalline wonder.
A diminutive drop of nature’s boast,
Reflecting and refracting.
A miniature masterpiece,
Slowly sliding along chaotic
Sway and flutter of a breeze blown leaf.

I look at this droplet and cry.
Raw and wracking sobs that shake
The very core of me.
For I am chaos, and I am ruin.
I will never feel within myself
The calmness of this perfect thing.
Complete and simple.

just rude..

Oh hey, don’t mind me, I’m ‘just rude’.
My crippling depression, ‘just a mood’.
Hypomanic self-destruction is my food.
Socially withdrawn? ‘Bad attitude’.
Well if I told you to ‘get fucked’,
Would that be crude?
?
Then let’s get crude,
Let’s get crude.

coming undone

I came upon a strange loose-end
Within my favorite sweater.
As I pulled upon the thread,
I started to feel better.
Row after row, the cord unraveled,
Over and under my body it traveled.
As the colors of yarn grew brighter,
The chains ‘pon my soul grew lighter.
I cut the last knot, nimble and deft,
Only then did I find,
There was none of me left.

what goes up.. (prose)

Alice hummed happily, sketching away on her notebook.
She had met nice new people, and was enjoying making art.
She thought it was nice to be happy for a change.

Happy…
The thought paralyzed her.
Ice flooded through her veins, and a shadow loomed above her.
“That’s right Alice, you forgot the rules”, came a voice.

“No”, begged Alice, “I wasn’t, I mean, I was, but just a little bit, and I thought maybe…”

“THERE IS NO HAPPINESS ALLOWED HERE”, the shadow hissed at her .
“THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES”.

“No, please, I don’t want to, not again “..

The infinitely black hands reached down inside her, finding all the small fragments of joy that had begun to form, and casually tore them apart.
Overwhelmed by pain and sadness, Alice barely noticed as she was lifted like a rag doll and cast into The Hole of Shadows.
“WHAT GOES UP, MUST GO DOWN, ALICE”.

She fell forever…

“Never again…”
Falling endlessly downward, Alice didn’t know which of them had whispered the words…

lesson learned

I guess you missed the sign on my forehead,
The one that says I’m a loser.
You shouldn’t be over here talking to me,
I’m told I’m a life abuser.

Narcissistic, arrogant, selfish.
I’ve really been put in my place.
Shallow, worthless and stupid,
I’m told I’m a waste of space.

Why do I go on living this way?
I should stop wasting everyone’s air,
No one would miss me if I were to go,
I’m told that no-one would care.

Who is it that tells me these things?
Why it’s me, myself, of course.
A little self education
Is simply par for the course.