The Long Dark Tea Time..

The fragile tea-set of my heart
Is broken.
Fine, fractured fragments fall
Alongside carelessly crumbled cake.
The pot, now as cold as the day, is filled
With clouds blacker than any fine brew,
For the soil has long since swallowed the milk.
Chaos and disarray amongst
Tearstained, torn up table-cloths.
As always, never any time for tea.

Sticky Stuff


my mind.

my thoughts.

my words. (for the most part)

demanded release. escaped onto page.

it is what it is.

in case you missed it the first time

please DON’T FOLLOW MY BLOG thanks

 the option is only there due to one of many wordpress flaws.

 like as much as you want. just don’t follow.

while I can’t stop you from following, I can keep removing you as a follower. this however, is a pain in my ass.

please respect my wishes, or I will respect them for you. thanks

thankyou to everyone for not following like I asked ( with one notable exception, you know who you are ).

 i’m only barely holding it together at the moment, and there’s currently an issue with followers …anyway 

…i appreciate your support. 

site content (c)opyright alicedarkfae. (where applicable).

i am still in hospital suffering major side effects from an allergic reaction to the pfizer  covid vaccine (kidney death anyone?) . 

because that’s just how awesomely lucky i am.

As as child, I would read..

Breathe deeply;
Brightly scented
Huckleberry candle,
With hints of fresh rain.
Gusting winds that bring
Promise of late summer storms.
Turn now, aging pages of
Yellowing gold.
Beloved texts, ancient and bold.
Drink of their wisdom
With wide-eyed wonder.
Warm now, and safe
From dragons and thunder.

Blah blah or something

Despite better taste, site renewed for another year due to health and other circumstances as usual not leaving me energy or will to move.

No thanks to the WordPress/ Automattic helpdesk team who just made the whole process of even renewing a hundred times more confusing and stressful than it needed to be.

Mumbled apologies for losing my head and all the F bombs, ‘bitter Alice’ was supposed to stay in my other blog, which is temporarily down, so we experienced some leakage there.
I’ll try to keep her contained, no promises, given current conditions.

I’m actually surprised to see likes appearing here and there, I thought banning following would get rid of you all.
No accounting for taste.

I’ll be back.
Or I won’t.
Why ruin the surprise?

the leaky hooman

-for my cat. the only good thing left 💔

My hooman is leaky again. more than before, which I did not think possible.
(My hooman was already leaky a lot.)
it seems She is leaky from Her eyes Almost Always Now. are all hoomans so leaky?

Eats. Sleeps. Warms. these are Good Things.
maybe some hoomans too.
The Final Sleeps is not for worry. all breathers must Have their Final Sleeps, Some Time.

I worry she might run out of hooman jooces, so I generously Eats as many Treats as she tries to give me.
it seems to make her happy for a Short Time.
she Is worried about Me Having My Final Sleeps Soon.
I can feel It waiting, just like It has always waited, and will still wait until I Have It.

it is The Way Things Are.

it is The Way They Have Aways Been.

my hooman is finally having Sleeps.
I think I got an OK One, All Things Considered. I have Witnessed much worse hoomans.
I hope mine will be ok, I have looked after her All My Time Here.
what does my hooman call it ? ‘fortein yeers’
what is a ‘yeers’? silly hooman.

I will have Sleeps, Now, too. Some Time, Very Soon, I think, I will Have My Final Sleeps.
not Yet. but Soon.

Sleeps, hooman. try not to leak.


(Greeple Diary)

I’m sorry dear,
Your passport to humanity has expired,
Your access to society, retired.
You have a mental illness,
You’re no longer one of us.
Please leave through the side gate,
Try not to make a fuss.
We don’t care where you’re going,
Leave your dreams up on the shelf.
No one wants to know you,
So you’ll have to help yourself.
Say goodbye to all your colleagues,
Say goodbye to all your friends.
Your life may not be over,
But it’s somewhat like an end.

Sounds Of Me

(Greeple Diary)

If you’re standing
Somewhat still,
You might hear me thinking,
And imagine
If you will,
The sound of gears a-clinking.
If you’re standing
Very still,
You might hear me sighing,
And imagine
If you will,
The sound of wind a-crying.
And if you’re standing
REALLY still,
You might hear my heart aching,
And imagine
If you will,
The sound of glass a-breaking. the dark..

(Greeple Diary)

Too oft I walk alone and scared
In twilight forests shadowed grey.
But now I feel my venture shared
By unseen friends along the way.
And here and there a firefly,
All of which I thought had died,
Perished in the days gone by,
From all the tears I cried.
But now I see the tiny glows
Deep within the dark.
Where I thought but darkness grows
Therein lies a spark..

Negativity Begets..

(Greeple Diary)

A delicate flower by a silver stream grew,
And it loved the dusk, the dawn and dew.
And it lived in the light of the sun as it shone,
Until one day it was trampled upon.

But it picked itself up, made its petals anew,
But over and over, got crushed by a shoe.
Each time it got up, it started to bristle,
Until one day, it turned into a thistle.

So mind how you step, and what you step upon,
Or you may find some gentleness gone
That you crushed out of a thing without any care,
And left instead, hate and bitterness there.

Greeple Diary*

While recently repacking some boxes, I found another mostly forgotten journal/diary from some time ago.

I got it at a flea market in my mid-teens. Good, solid and unused, but with a bizarre handmade cover that wasn’t entirely green, nor entirely purple, rather a random patchy mixing / matching and merging of the two.

Perhaps it was someones ‘failed’ experiment at ink blending , using salt and other things, in the manner of watercolours.

It was without a doubt, one of the most horrifically ugly things I had ever seen, and I loved it instantly.
I bought it on the spot, and it was at the time, one of my favourite journals ever.

I called it my Greeple Diary ( GREEn/purPLE merged, obviously), (ok, so even back then I was no archetype of originality).

In the end, it was sadly under utilised, as I was reluctant to just fill it with mind-leak like my normal others.

There are however, a respectable number of poems in it over a range from mid to late teens perhaps even an odd addition from within the chaos that scattered my life a short time later.

I can’t say they are either my best pieces, still fairly naive, I was more comfortable with simplicity, yet neither are they my worst, especially in that light.

I read the following quote from part of a Tori Amos interview:
“I don’t think “negative emotions” is an accurate phrase.
Emotions are emotions. We can’t look at them as positive or negative, they are what they are. And they are your reality.
All you have on your plate is your reality. You decide whether you look at your reality or live pretending these feelings don’t exist.” -Tori Amos

Strangely similar yet so different from now, they were stilll my emotions and thoughts from that time. My reality.
And is very often the case, I agree with Tori..

They are what they, and to deny or avoid them is to deny or avoid that part of my life.
It’s kind of stupid if I do that because they may not have been perfect, for neither was/is my life.
So I will post.. most/some.. of them here over the next week(s) or so. As always, it’s your choice if you decide to menatlly ingest any of them.

I hope you.. if not necessary enjoy.. at least find something in some of them (and all/anything here) that leaves you somehow different to how you were before you started reading.

xx Alice

Right back at you..

(Greeple diary)

Can I forgive you?
Can I forget?
I do not know,
I can’t decide yet.

What you have done
Is terrible, true.
Though I have to admit
I don’t really know you.

What you took from me,
I can never let pass.
And I hate you when I see you
In my looking glass..

Falling is like flying.

I stand on the edge of rooftops,
Far weaker than I hoped to be.
I long to lean a little farther,
Help gravity to set me free.

Because falling is like flying,
If you’re not afraid of dying.
To wonder if you’ll hear the sound
As your body greets the ground.

I wish I had embraced deeper connections
To pieces of my life. Rejecting the rejections.
I’ve always felt displaced, alone.
So now I’m leaving on my own.

The view is such, that departing seems a shame.
I’m feel sorry for myself, there is no one else to blame.
I think I understand now, what mortality is for,
Insight sets me free from the fear I felt before.

And now.. I start to understand
Why nothing ever goes to plan.
And I realise after all..
It’s my choice if I’m flying as I fall.

Return to Wonderland

A deeper dive, what could I do?
I dove so deep, I fell right through.
Found my Wonderland once more,
Drank the bottle, through the door.

Played croquet with The Queen,
Woke to find it but a dream.
Lay there still in my bed,
Off with my head, off with my head.


So many blues,
Even Cezzane could never choose,
Nor yet begin. Lies such within.
The endless, empty stain of sky
An uncaring wash of pastel hues.
Until I float no longer.
This ocean,
So much stronger,
Embraces like some dark prussian muse,
Mixing palettes like a bruise.
Drags me under. Draws me down,
Down into blue..

Until I am too.

Queen of the Nile

Shall I adorn,
Gild and paint myself
Like some Egyptian Queen?
Dress in silk and gold,
Reciting rituals of old?
Peacock feathers fan my face,
Social bricks slide into place
Encasing me in stone.
Entombed in darkness, destiny alone.

Darkling, listen..

Darkling listen..
Each tear falling
Is calling out in a decaying
Crystalline orchestra
To chime and glisten.
Darkling, listen..
Each tear a drop of blood,
Each drop a candle flame
That burns away to leave your name..

Swing low, sweet….chariot?

I am afraid
Of a great many things.
They leave my face numb
Like a cold wind that stings.
That I may never gaze ‘pon
A Blue Monarchs’ wings,
Nor hear yet again
My muse when she sings.
Yes, I am afraid of so many things.
But one thing I’m not
Is what tomorrow shall bring.
Or the rope, my body to swing.

Bright, bright, sun shiny day..

I want to move somewhere super cliché
Like Paris, NewYork or even L.A.
I want to find someone, so we can be together,
You know what they say about “being alone forever”.
Actually what DO they say about being alone forever?

I hope it’s something positive,
I hope it’s something clever.

I doubt it’s a saying about sunshine and fun,
It seems like it’s great, but it’s far too hot, for one.
Cos if you live where I live, you grow to hate the light.
If you live like I live, then you learn to love the night.

Too much light simply burns you up,
Yet I continue to try it all over again.
I never learned to learn my lesson, so
Just earn third degree pain.

Here comes the night, little darlin’,
Here comes the night…
And I say..’s alright.

Go faster more slowly

The second hand, so slow, it almost seems still,
Each tick is every day that ever was or ever will.
Tomorrow I will have lived beyond one thousand years,
Drowned ten thousand times in a hundred million tears.
Yet at the end, when forever has passed, and having passed,
I will cry again, because my life went by too fast.

No Time For Coffee

I stood upon mighty boulders by the sea,
Watching as the waves regarded them no less
Than another grain of sand in due time.


A universal ember, the Sun
Spins like a clock and having spun,
Measures the immeasurable.

And with the shifting of atoms,
Pressed upon by the weight of the universe,
My coffee grows colder.

death is..

I have seen alluring women in white
Anfractuous gowns, billowing on bridges in the breeze,
Standing stark against the night,
And I was afraid. Afraid of these.

Ever our obtuse disquietude of death
Has filled our mind like a crack, and in return,
In ignorance we have stained it black,
A symbol of our pitiful and vacuous lack
Of comprehension.

But would they witness what I have seen,
Deep within improbable realities of dream,
Death is not black, nor darkness, or night,
Death is women with eyes blue bright,
Standing on bridges
Dressed in white.

Billowing on bridges

Lost within my life,
Missing inside my mind.
They all keep trying to save me,
I guess they don’t know I’m crazy.

I yearn desperately for guidance,
For release.
Cessation of pain.
For peace.

In my dreams I am drawn to bodies of water,
And it is always night.
The rising breeze is cool and fresh
As it the follows the flow of the river.

That’s when I see them.
Women, wearing white
Cotton dresses.
Billowing on bridges.

message from The Matrix…or is it real life?

knock knock Alice. .
. .
Follow the white rabbit. . (done that)

Take the red or blue pill, actually take both, and a fuckload of others as well.
No, you’re still insane, but at least we got a laugh out of it.

The mainlines have been broken, everything made wi-fied,
While adults turned violent, and hospitalised children cried,
Trampled for a roll of toilet paper.

But that’s what humans do, right?
Accept and like it, don’t try to fight.
Thats what normal is.
You’re the crazy one for wanting out.

Drink to excess, abuse drugs,
Grab a weapon and join in the fray,
Becuase that’s what’s considered OK.

But if you try to leave on your own,
We’ll lock you up FOREVEVER
and pump you full of the equivalent
of a chemical lobotomy.
For your own good, of course.

Musicbox Dancer(less)

Through watery eyes, I gaze
Upon a music box not to dance again.
Now a BlackSwan beyond repair,
I know not where, neither when
Such damage could accumulate,
Uncertain even instigate.
Simply that the time has passed, and far too late
For any chance to mend,
She lies broken ‘pon the floor,
No longer there to spin or sing.
Am I to blame? It’s hard to tell, Neuron mirroring.
Both with regrets and torn heart strings,
Musical no more.

How Dare You?

How dare you?
Your inconsiderate butchery
Has cut the music from my throat.

How dare you?
Your pretentious thievery
Has stolen my sole possession.

Claim innocence or play the victim.
There is no suspect beside yourself.

How. Dare. You?
Try to take my happiness and trust,
When I gave them to you freely so long ago?

Cheap Advice

My bag of beans in the end,
Took my gold for mere pretend.
Days, like bags of pennies spent,
Left unsure where my life went.

You think you have time,
But unless you act, all you get
Is no change for your dime,
Only the sharp pain of regret.

If I could live my life over again,
I would still decline,
I think pain waits regardless when,
Within each frame of time.

When you reach the crossroads in the wood,
Take, or take not, ‘the road less travelled’,
But lest your life become unravelled,
Ensure that poem is understood.

‘Before you look at what you have in a negative light, remember that just because you were born, that doesn’t mean you were ever inherently ‘entitled’. Life doesn’t ‘owe’ you anything. In the end, extreme circumstance aside, you are in control of your life, even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time. You almost always have a choice, so don’t blame life if things aren’t how you want them. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and realise the decisions have always been yours the whole time’- (paraphrased Dean Leysen)

Slow Learner

I tore myself into tiny pieces for you.
So many different fragments,
I no longer knew which were me or what to do.

That was my choice, that was on me,
I never asked for anything returned,
But you just stood and smiled as I burned and burned, and burned.

I put up with so very much I found so very hard,
Never protested the abuse. Neglect. Misuse.
…until I saw your disregard.

You destroyed me once before,
And I still said I’d be there if you called.
And when you did, I dropped my life, and gave you it all.

I gave you our first time blindly, a germinating seed.
A second despite your note of things no-one should ever read.

So why do I feel so empty , knowing I have to say
There’s not enough left of me now
For your third chance to make me bleed that way.

Self Love

Your indifference doesn’t faze me,
Your hate won’t drive me crazy,
Can’t you see that it’s all peachy.?
‘Cos. I. Like. Me.
Well you know that’s a lie.
Maybe the biggest one of all.
The more I build myself up,
Simply the farther down to fall.
So put your distaste on the shelf,
I’ve finally learned to love myself…
Well you know that’s a lie.

Star Light, Star Bri…

Lonley sentinel,
Such a great distance apart,
Chosen amongst billions by intuition in my heart.
Within in a sea of lights, you shine down from on high,
Seemingly surrounded in such a crowed sky,
And yet, mayhap as lonely, perhaps lonelier than I.
Appearances suggest that you have many, many friends,
Yet light-years separate you all to universal ends.
Appearances can be so deceiving.

Shine, sentinel, shine,
Lest your life be dim as mine.

Until Stars End

We stand to stare
At a sky of stars we try to comprehend.
Our hands to share
A connection we can never comprehend.
A plan as a pair
While stars shine, to stay together ’til the end.

Dead girls don’t cry.

How many times can one heart burst?
How many stars are in the sky?
How many grains of sand on earth?
How many tears can one heart cry?
Maybe there’s a number. Maybe it’s plenty,
But what happens when that person is empty?
Do they cry endless tears? Do they even cry any?
For sometimes no tears at all, is, far, far worse than many.

This world.

I lay on my bed, hugging my pillow,
And the world is too much.
My head swims, and my heart aches
Without me knowing why.
I must seem ungrateful,
But I don’t want it, I don’t want it,
This world.
This world that is just too much.


That was your time to dance around the fire on the beach with friends.
And you missed it.
Hesitant. Unsure, so you resisted.
Now life has happened too soon.
And you missed it.
Sat and watched when you should have embraced it and kissed it.
And it hurts now, doesn’t it?

Anniversary Event: Bad Day

Amidst the chaos of our lives
Lies a stillness in which we break.
A moment beyond repair,
Of silence, pain, and despair.
Enfolded in loneliness,
We suffer.
At times, with sorrow so great,
Even our right to tears is taken.
Othertimes, with such an ache,
We hope not to awaken.

‘..the drugs don’t work, they just make you worse..’

Each time around,
I can feel
The amphetamines fading,
And depression bearing down.
Torn muscles and careless cuts give hints
That I’m addicted to nicotine mints:
My chemical parachute
Made from an old torn sheet
Still can’t cushion the pain
From five straight days on my feet.
Some synthetic opiods please,
Supposedly non-addictive,
Simply a temporary ease,
And oh so maledictive,
Just give me a handgun.