‘And since we’re down,
Might as well stay.
Might as well fry some eggs.’
– Tori Amos
‘And since we’re down,
Might as well stay.
Might as well fry some eggs.’
– Tori Amos
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.
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.’
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.
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’.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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’.?
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.
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
Is totally spent.
Today I hate everything.
Or would if I could care that much.
But all things die beneath my touch,
And now I’ve touched too much.
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.
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.”
Your digital dagger,
Your ego, and
Belief you matter.
Like so much playground chatter,
The forums, and
Become but noise,
As though raindrops patter
My god! WHAT have
you wished for?
..the Genie is not what you….
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.
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.
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.
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.
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..
‘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…
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”.
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.’
‘Or is it green ..?’
‘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……?’
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…
“Now I’m split in two, I’m half me and half you,
But I hate us both, don’t you?”
-Missy Higgins / Peachy
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.
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.
“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.
If you’re not in the present, you lose everything that is around you.”
“We say we waste time, but that is impossible.
We waste ourselves.”
“Blanket statements are always stupid. NO EXCEPTIONS!”
“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.”
“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)
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)
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.
I made your morning coffee
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..
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.
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?
Did I let go,
Or did the rope just break
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.
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.
I can no longer call you ‘My Love’,
Or even ‘My Best Friend’.
So I just call you by your name,
And this is how we end.
‘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.
What have thou wrought?
I had thought but wings,
Yet here I find
My heart and mind
Are also waxen things.
And when she goes,
So goes too,
Parts of you you never knew
Parts once only read about
In romance novels.
You can’t live without.
I hope you speak to me real soon.
Hope you come out from your room,
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.
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,
I just want ‘us’,
Always to be ‘Us’,
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
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,
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.
In my mind, I
Have died ten thousand times.
What’s once more?
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.
Inside my lonely darkness
Lies the dream of a soft
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.
Fading, from the moment lit,
In darkness tries
To find her place in it.
You left for the last time,
Taking everything that matters.
But you left the weight
Of an entire empty universe
Crushing my chest..
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.
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.
I am a shiny new smart-phone.
You were my re-charger.
I can no longer function
You didn’t believe me,
When I said I’d meet you
At that spot.
But there I was
Standing in the rain.
You called me insane.
Then you smiled.
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.
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.
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…
Falling endlessly downward, Alice didn’t know which of them had whispered the words…
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.
You said you needed change,
Something different to do.
So you left me behind
As you set out to find
Something completely new.
But you still brush your hair,
Still breathe the air
Like I do.
You still count to one,
Still see mornings’ sun
The way I do.
And I wonder, where you wander,
If you ever ponder
What I do..
So many prayers left unfulfilled.
Who said you could discover love
In the castles that you build
With only sand?
Never seeming to understand
The difference twixt
Sea and land.
No matter however carefully planned,
The constructs of your heart will never withstand
The relentless jealousy of water.
Am I in love with sadness?
So broken and so
Coffee and a little
To bring me down.
Turned up so loud,
Entwined with sound.
Take me high or
Bring me down.
Normal is for amateurs.
Give me just a little push,
For I stand poised
Upon the razors edge
And I long to know which way
May I not look into myself
I’m not where I wished to be
At this particular time?
Why always try to
Invalidate my self-disappointment, or
Disregard my undirected rage?
My introspective deconstruction
Is my valid cage.
My right to hate myself,
How dare you say I mustn’t,
When I must, I must.
“Nothing’s sad until it’s over.
Then everything is.”
Afraid of climbing further
Out along that limb?
They’re burning eBooks
Now, down below, my friend.
Anything can be something
The night sky clings.
Plastic wrap to
So little left
Is this a darkness that you know?
One that covers you like graveyard soil
And says ‘You May Not’.
All those dreams sworn never to forget,
Buried deep in a coffin,
And not done yet.
Or the loss of hope that twists inside
When you finally understand:
You’ll never be any of those things
You had planned?
All of this.
All of this and more.
A darkness in which you wonder..
What you’re even alive for.
She never sleeps or seems to cry,
Just sits and watches flowers die.
Patterns on footpaths, drawn in chalk,
Heedless of those who try to walk
On by or stop to gawk.
Prefers to do it in the rain,
Considered to be quite insane,
But they can’t ever see the pain
That fills her over and over again.
And she hates the sun,
Wet chalk is best,
Better to express the mess
She burns with need just to confess
to uncaring pavement.
And though she’s out there every day
No one knows where she goes or stays.
Even when she’s home in bed,
She’s not there, she’s in her head.
And they can’t understand
Why she laughs for no reason,
Or screams in their face
How her soul is bleeding.
Packets of chalk, notebooks of sorrow,
No tomorrow, no tomorrow.
She agrees that it’s no jest,
Dreams of dying are the best.
She sits amongst the dying leaves,
Looking for something to hold,
As she mourns in grief
Her loss of belief in all things she was told.
In the fairytale all about,
How in the end, things work out.
There was a time she didn’t doubt,
But innocently believe,
Now runs her fingers over the scars
That such untruths can leave.
Crushes dead sticks into pieces,
Hoping that the act releases
But feels nothing.
Takes her chalk and draws a ring,
Pretending it’s a solid thing,
Letting nothing out or in,
And lies inside it sobbing.
Regrets how hard she ever tried,
Now her trust has gone and died
alongside her belief and pride,
That she was to be something.
Now is nothing.
Almost midnight, a sliver of moon,
And a thunderstorm approaching soon.
Yet on the pavement Alice sits,
Chalk now smashed to dust and bits,
The outline she drew, a perfect fit,
For a murder scene and her place in it.
All she need do is just lie down
In the corpse outline
On the frozen ground,
And fall into slumber without any sound,
Until in the morning, finally found,
Her body and spirit no longer bound.
‘It isn’t so much as what it never was’, said Alice, awkwardly attempting to adopt a stance and tone of voice approximating what she imagined a university professor might assume, ‘but rather, what it wasn’t ever in the first place’.
She paused, trying to follow her own thoughts.
‘For example’, she attempted to clarify.
‘If you break this tea cup..’
She picked up the nearby object and dropped it to the ground, adding a small flourish for effect, but it merely bounced, several times, then rolled to a stop, defiantly intact.
She glared at the offender, then stomped on it furiously until it was only small pieces.
“Like so..”, She announced.
‘You not only destroy the many cups of tea it might have been, but also the many cups of tea it never was.’
‘Aren’t those the same thing?’, asked the Dormouse, who was the only one really paying attention.
Alice frowned, not entirely certain, but unwilling to appear wrong at this point, drew herself up importantly.
‘Decidedly not!’ She declared.
My scream is unending, violent and weighed down by desperation.
Vocal chords stripped raw, and my head and my heart, not designed for such things, demand from me a heavy toll.
That my scream is so high pitched, elevated by emotions I can no longer describe, that no one can hear me.
Just wind in the wind, another bullet with butterfly wings.
For the life I never lived. Cannot live. Will never live.
For the wonder of love and loss, of amazing joy and sorrow, that I will never have.
Not because I am not who I wanted to be,
But because I am someone that I wanted to never be.
Someone I wouldn’t want anyone to be.
Because I am too weak to bear it in silence.
Because I am too weak to bear it at all.
Sick, cruel, mocking laughter, at the biggest joke of all: Myself.
They say if you don’t laugh, you cry.
I’m doing both..
I lie in shadows,
Bleeding away my happiness.
A filthy unwashed gutter
Too worthy a bed.
Such painful sanity,
And terrifying awareness
Rip recursive holes in my mind.
I scream inside
And cannot stop,
Each breath between
I tear out my self and soul
With bloody violence.
I don’t want them,
I despise them.
They might be me,
Or just something to destroy.
And I knew,
Oh god I knew
The emptiness within.
Broken bottles and rusting cans.
If I could cut myself to pieces
With these poor tools,
Would I still remain
A dark stain
On the world?
Riding the low wave,
I am less than myself.
Attempts to find reason
Unfold my ever diminishing mind.
The view of the abyss
Finds me sick,
Leaves me sicker.
These neglected vampryic lines.
Awkward symbiotic pain:
Craving to be written,
Hungers to be read.
Demands from me
That you consume
Vanity I hold within.
Alas too oft
My veins grow thin..
Emotionally drained, and I can’t feel my face,
But I can feel the beating I gave myself again.
Every emotional punch
So savage and well aimed,
Surprising no hard bruises remain.
Nobody hates me like I do,
I hate the part that hates me too.
All the mistakes that I can see
In everything I try to be,
Send me further under, and
Tear my heart asunder.
Cut lily. Cut rose.
Dead but hardly knows.
Dead but barely shows.
And the time it took
I can’t say that I feel lost,
For as the Cheshire Cat would know,
That would all depend on where I wanted to go.
Seeing how I don’t,
We could always ask The Hatter,
Because if I am truly lost, the answer doesn’t matter.
As long as there is cake,
Because we’re all mad here.
Such indescribable delight,
When sound and subtle petrichor
Anounce outside window and door,
Rainfall decorating dust.
You gave me a lengthy look,
And then you took
But hey, that’s OK.
Then before I knew, I fell,
And you showed me hell,
And that was ok too.
One or the other, I’ll acclimatize.
Learn to balance, to be wise,
But only one.
I never know, if I’ll stay or when I’ll go.
Tied to this piece of string
Of a child,
Whose temperament goes wild.
Unable to control
My yoyo. So,
I never know, when I’ll stay or if I’ll go
Up or Down.
And bouncing in between,
Never finding my feet,
Is a sickening carnival ride
That’s strangely incomplete.
To have one or the other,
Or sometimes both, confusing,
Too much emotional bruising.
The reverse of a junkie
Wanting their next fix.
Not me, no, no, not me,
I don’t want, I don’t want,
I don’t want it.
What if I find that I just can’t take,
I can’t stand any more and I finally break?
My mind to my Wonderland then take,
Put a ‘vacancy’ sign on my forehead,
Sit by the marshmallow lake.
Well we always knew I was crazy,
It was never a question of maybe.
Now all they ever ask of me:
“At this very moment, what is she?”
Eminently awkward in prosaic propensity, even explicit explanations end entwined in endless enigma.
I speak such phrases that resound in silver clarion within my eyes and mind, yet return to me merely distorted echoes of confusion and poor Chinese Whispers of misunderstood riddles.
I am a stranger in this world and speak no part of any language I encounter.
And I do not understand.
This is me, starting a conversation.
This is me, screaming in your face.
This is me, begging for help.
This is me, bleeding before you.
Where art thou Morpheus?
I seek Lethe and no other,
Protection from Thanatos
Rivers five, so similar,
I may confuse
And in my earnest haste for
Poorly to my dismay.
So for the briefest moment,
Guide my way.
Clutch’d tight is my
Fare for the ferryman….
Just like that,
Lost amongst the names,
Labels, and designations,
Unable to tell which parts
Of herself were herself,
She snapped her pencil in two.
And like the pencil,
Broke in half her sanity,
Ability to care.
I’m riding my old bike again.
It was only a matter of time I suppose.
I ride it around every place that I go,
Sometimes quite quickly, other times slow,
And it’s hard to get up those steep hills don’t you know,
But when I go down, just look at me go.
Yeah, rapid cycling.
Don’t you think it’s strange
How we shift, change, rearrange,
Everything we can, but stay the same?
How each of us ourselves behoove
To grow, move, further improve,
Strive and strive, yet we never arrive.
We tell ourselves that all our pain
Is part of life, to strain and gain,
How accepting we all are.
Before we grow too old,
Grow cold, end stuck in a mold,
Are we able to break free?
Well to show you that I can:
I just rhymed carrot
a creative writing exercise..
‘Do you suppose, Chesh, that sometimes fish are people too?’
Alice threw another apple into the pond, gazing absently at the resulting microcosm of radiating waves.
She looked over at the Cheshire Cat, who had been asleep underneath a nearby tree for most of the afternoon.
‘And they say there’s no such thing as a stupid question..’, the cat yawned lazily, before promptly returning to what appeared to be an attempt to sleep soundly through the entire day.
Alice shrugged. It didn’t matter if no one was listening.
Picking up a nearby apple, she nibbled it as she continued her thought.
‘What I mean to say is…’, she said ‘do you wonder if fish sometimes wish to be someone else?’
‘It seems normal, when feeling awfully rotten, to wish you were somewhere else, or rather, some one else. For me anyway.’
She scrunched up her face as the strong memory of doing just such a thing swept over her..
‘But.. If I were somewhere else, I would still be myself, simply in a different place, and well, I don’t think that’s the problem in this case. As they say, wherever you go, there you are.’
She eyed the apple she was holding, inspecting it for rot, before hurling it violently into the pond, where it floated, bobbing about with the others.
‘So if I were to be someone else, I would most likely be somewhere else as well, otherwise there wouldn’t be much room where I am standing.’
She looked down thoughtfully, then took a step to the side, just in case.
‘Two pigeons on the other side of the fence’. She laid a finger alongside her nose knowingly.
‘That being the case, if I were to be someone else, it wouldn’t be very long before that someone was me anyway.’ She counted on her fingers, trying to work out how to calculate ‘instantaneously’.
‘Not veryyyy long, anyhow’. She scratched her nose.
‘And me, myself, as someone else, would, with my luck, be just as unhappy and just as likely to be someone who wishes they were someone else as well!
No, that just won’t do’.
She cast her eye over the fallen fruit, looking for a likely candidate.
‘I suppose, when you look at it contrarywise , it’s more a case of wishing not to be myself, or be anyone really, rather than wanting to be another me.
Is it such a preposterous proposition to ponder that a fish may well wish to be other than its own woeful watery self?’
She gathered a few of the ripest apples on offer.
“To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core…’, she quoted absently.
‘What if EVERYONE EVERYWHERE feels this way!?’. She her eyes unfocused, and she felt almost insulted by the notion.
‘What if all this time, not a soul has been happy being themselves, and JUST PRETENDING!’.
She stamped her foot! To imagine! The sheer nerve of them!
Her brow furrowed, she was down to the mystery now.
So…everyone that smiles, and says ‘as you please’, and tells you to behave, and not to rub apricot jam on your baby brother, why they just did it so that…that..so that you’d do the same!
She knew it!
‘It’s all a cabin-ski’ She announced uncertainty.
‘Regardless, if no one wants to be themselves, and it seems I was right about that, and everyone is all full up anyhow, no vacancies, then what am I to do’?
Alice sank to the ground and buried her hands in the cool soil, surrounded by apple trees and the buzzing of industrious bees.
‘I can’t stand it, Chesh’, her voice was barely a whisper. ‘The endless…me’.
Nothing is here that wants to be here. Nothing should be here.
I’m not particularly fond of anything I find, inside or out.
The world is like a washed out water painting, and the only things that bear upon me to take notice, oh, they hurt, Cat, they hurt so much’.
She blinked, then laughed, a bleeding, savage laugh.
‘I can’t even cry. There’s not even that now!’
She got up, two ripening weapons of choice in hand, and walked towards the pond.
‘I’m stuck inside myself, with nothing, not even hate! And surrounded by liars and fakers’.
‘HATE! FAKERS! LIARS!’
Then, ‘SPINACH!’, just for good measure.
She spun furiously, sliding the apple at the water, imagining it to be a rock that would smash into the surface.
‘Splosh’. It somewhat anticlimactically joined the rest.
Alice stood on the edge of the water, and stared at the moving trails of light sliding over the deep water.
She swayed slightly as she recited;
“…Like as the waves make towards the pebb’d shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before..”
‘Can’t be me. Can’t be not-me. Why be anything at all?’, Alice muttered to herself, mezmerized by the water.
”Oh Alice, look what you’ve done!”, they’ll say, and take my things away again…They took that mirror away soon enough, after things got bloody, but I kept telling them, it was HER, not me’.
‘I should just throw myself into the pond!’, she DECLARED,
‘Better to be nothing on purpose than nothing because of some STUPID COSMIC JOKE’, she shrieked!
She stared at the water, watching as it rocked gently back and forth, thinking it seemed calm and deep, somewhere she could sleep.
‘Well, on second thought’, she said, biting into her apple.
‘I’d better not disturb the fish. You never know if fish might be people too’.
When I was quite young,
Only a pup,
People would ask me
When I grew up,
What would I be?
Where would I go?
I had an idea,
Didn’t quite know.
But it wasn’t this.
It was never this.
I’m on my way down,
A slow and broken sinking.
Watch me as I drown
In the depths of overthinking.
Silver kisses touch on skin,
Exquisitely and softly.
Touch, but delve so deeply in.
So very costly.
Crimson roses blossom out,
Nourished from within.
Bright red petals forming
Morbid fractals on my skin.
I wonder how many flowers
Are left within to see..
Or if you ever drowned
Inside your mind like me..
But I’m nonetheless eloquent,
So hand me a cigarette.
Don’t do no crystal,
Anyways least not yet.
Right about now
I’m as fucked-up as ima get.
Seems so pathetic,
Seems so unreal.
To relax, I need my brain
In my beautiful madness,
I tear gods down.
In my terrible sadness,
I tear myself down.
I gave the doctor all the pieces of my mind,
Hardly an undivulged thought left behind.
‘Oh Alice my dear, this simply won’t do.
I’ll tell you what’s what, for I’m smarter than you’.
And he smiled as he tore away all that I’d said,
I felt sick as he planted his thoughts in my head.
For I’d said what I thought, and I’d thought what I said,
But now he thought to think my thoughts for myself instead.
He said ‘things might get sad and I’ll tell you why:
I’m afraid the Alice you know, now has to die.
I’ll give you some tablets, take one every day,
And soon you’ll find that this Alice has faded away.
And then you’ll be cured! Shiny and new!
A whole brand new person. Though I couldn’t say who.
“Imagine you were dying.
Imagine you were afraid and a long way from home in terrible pain.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, you looked up and saw the face of the Devil himself.”
- Doctor Who : Season 06.Episode 13
The orange light of a life, burning.
That scarlet spark.
Your perfect moment on the ledge.
You lied to keep me in thrall,
To give us another day without sorrow.
But I smell tangerines..
If I write things for myself,
And I like what I have writ,
But hating myself wholly
Is, I must admit,
A fundamental part of me,
At least the largest bit.
Reason and logic would therefore dictate,
That anything I ever write or create,
Is something I should hate..
I wish I didn’t have to,
But I wish that I could prove
I’m not some social label
You can just stick on,
Or simply remove.
Don’t you see?
My diagnosis isn’t me.
I’m not pills inside a bottle
Or high upon a shelf.
I never hurt nobody,
I would rather hurt myself.
No one understands me,
But that’s no big surprise.
Claiming to know someone’s soul
Is only telling lies
True, it isn’t easy,
Sometimes it’s bloody tough,
You have dig below the surface
To find diamonds in the rough.
I’m so exquisitely fucked up, it’s true.
But probably no more than you.
As children we were taught
That god in heaven thought
We all should drown.
Everyone should drown?
Well listen to that sound:
That’s me drowning now.
Later they would tell
Of heaven and of hell.
How to find The Right Gate.
Well they’re far too late,
Maybe you can’t tell
But I already found hell.
I didn’t need to wait.
As for gods’ only son
Dying for our sinning..
I may not have been sinning,
But baby, this is me beginning.
Been standing on street corners
And bridges high.
Staring at the clouds.
Been waiting on tall buildings
And railway lines
All over town.
I admit it’s not much of a plan.
But I’m seeking Superman.
Someone said he left for good,
Others said he died.
I really hope that’s not the case,
That he just partially retired.
I’d like to meet him face to face,
I really need to be inspired.
Seems all I’m left with are
Tied tightly to the end of
In the shape of a hangman’s noose.
I’ve practised the knot at least
No way it will ever come loose.
I just need to find Superman.
I don’t expect to him to save me,
And I doubt that he knows how.
I just wanted to say hi,
Maybe ask if he could fly
Me to the edge of space,
To see the earth from a better place.
I don’t like the view down here.
So I’m waiting near phonebooths
And plane wrecks,
So far there’s nothing to see.
Maybe I’ll become a Crime Lord,
And then he’ll come looking for me.
I can tell by your tone
There’ll be no picket fence.
You try for casual discourses,
But I just hear King’s Horses
My only defense
Against all your King’s Men.
I saw that wall,
From which no one could fall,
There’s yolk on your hand,
For somebody planned
The whole thing you see.
Humpty was pushed.
And now you plan to push me.
Oh no, is Alice insane?
Has she gone off,
Or taken too many,
Of her massive number of tablets again?
Look at them lovingly lined up in rows,
So many highs and so many lows,
Looking like Skittles,
No taste of rainbows.
What was that thing that she said?
There’s too much space inside of her head
Filled up with noisy silence?
With too much peaceful violence?
It’s so tiring, trying, falling, failing,
Draining to seem normal now.
They say ‘don’t try to be normal then’.
But if now is then, then where and when
Should I cease to cease being social again?
Don’t compare me.
I only compare myself,
Not to looks or wealth,
But to how many dues you have to pay
Just to live through every day.
Alice sat weeping,
Compelled to climb.
Emotions complicated, and
Not nearly enough cake.
Now was bleeding.
Skin from hands and knees amiss,
For every single day
She was forced to do this:
Climb the winding stair.
Scaling heights oft tall,
Stairs constantly collapsing,
And down, down she’d fall,
In a violent, painful tumble.
Always the choice to remake:
Lie in a heap forever and ever,
Or clamber to her feet
To repeat the endeavour.
After a lifetime, she stood.
Bits of broken me lie upon the loungeroom floor,
Kinda hoping I’ll get stepped on.
No-one even asks about the sugar in my coffee,
One lump or two, I wish they’d say.
It’s just a short train ride to down,
Thought I’d spend the night,
Or maybe go insane for the weekend.
Twisted sheets and I’m so tired,
My face hurts when I fake a smile.
I wish that I could fall asleep
For just a little while.
Passing hour seventy-two,
My mind has come undone.
I don’t know what I should do,
I can’t stand anyone.
My thoughts become disjointed now,
They make no sense at all.
A thousand whirling whispers
Like wind blown leaves in Fall.
Now I’ve started seeing
Things that can’t be real.
Things that cease to bother,
I no longer care or feel.
Well, the drugs don’t work,
I hear they make you worse,
Although I may well have
Hallucinated that whole verse.
My soul aches, my mind breaks.
I’m sounding like a Beatles’ song.
How long until I go insane?
I’m sure it won’t be long..
I always thought you understood
The twists inside my head.
Not as a navigator would,
But sort of where they led.
But now I see that all the while,
You drank their Kool-Aid too,
And kept behind your plastic smile,
Things I never knew you never knew.
Now you look at me as they do,
It empties out my chest.
The one who hasn’t got a clue,
Should have known me best.
Give a cry!
Life passing by
At a startling rate!
Another year wasted.
So much untasted.
Salute the disgrace &
Let’s get shit face-d.
Hear the beat of
The Doom Drum,
And dread the
Year to Come.
The sky held such a vast array of blues,
Until you cut open my universe
And took out all the hues?
My heart held so much trust,
Until you emptied out my chest
And filled the cavity with dust?
I should have known it too.
That you kept track all along ,
To whom everything belonged.
Now I know too.
Cos I’d been thinking this whole time,
In words like ‘us’ and ‘ours’,
Now reduced to merely ‘mine’.
“Real relationships don’t break up,
They break down.”
These cooling cups of tea
Bring darker thoughts instead,
Of empty eyes
And lukewarm baths,
Filled with swirling red.
Of the slow drip-dripping
Onto a tiled floor.
Alongside all these feelings
That have no metaphor.
No way to describe..
Being dead inside.
I gave you my love, I’m sure that’s right,
But your disregard came sealed up tight
In tiny bottles, labels white,
Saying ‘drink me’.
I trusted you then,
When I was stronger and taller,
But each dose you gave
Only made me feel smaller.
I took your ‘drink me’ every day,
’til I was so small,
I just faded away..
I could walk into the ocean
And swallow it all down.
Yet never drown.
Such emptiness within abides,
Ne’er filled or shape descried
By endless changing tides.
A thousand suns devoured,
Galaxies all scoured,
To universes’ end and back,
Would not fill what I lack.
I give my fiercest scowl,
Take stance like I’ll stay put.
But I am made of paper,
Naught but matches underfoot.
If a girl screams in the forest,
With no-one else around,
Does she make a sound?
If no-one sees her body fall,
Does she hit the ground?
If she loses all her bearings
Does she still feel down?
If she’s flooded by emotion
Do you think she’ll drown?
I don’t want very much.
Not too much.
Always something I can’t touch.
Wish to touch.
Just a normal life and such.
Not too much..
Peculiar how our mutual plight
Of the helpful things to do,
Became a competition and a wedge
Between me and they and you.
Everyone knows best,
No arguments allowed.
Just you and your ego
Because three’s a crowd.
No single pathway to the end,
I’m sure there’s quite a few,
But unless I’m just a moral clone,
Who cares what others do?
Everyone needs validation,
The fight for higher ground.
Common sense goes on vacation,
The world burns to the ground.
Genetically modified veganism,
Antivaxers and egotism
Sadistic female circumcision,
Innocents are sent to prison.
So let’s sit and debate about
Who is most insulted.
And those of us who dare protest
Will surely be assaulted.
So fuck all of this black and white,
And who is more correct than right.
The first thing they should teach in class
Is how to get your head out of your ass.
Today is an endless field
Of mud and broken stone.
Beneath an uncaring sky,
I am alone.
In my hand a jagged flint
Wet with blood and dew.
I think I killed my final friend.
I think she killed me too.
Selfish genes and viral memes,
Evolutionary replication machines.
Can we decide that we want to be more,
Or are we defined by what came before?
How much choice is ours to make?
How much part does genetics take?
Are we the sum of our parts,
Or just some of our parts?
Small snow white
Gave me a blanket unfurled.
I wrapped myself inside,
Safe and warm from the world.
I stayed there for the afternoon,
Cosy inside my chemical room.
I think you know the one I mean:
I died a little more today,
A smile on my face,
Nothing seeming out of place
Secretly not ok.
Part of my insides withered away,
While grinning all the time,
Just pretending that I’m fine,
Secretly not ok.
No I can’t come out to play,
I need a place to hide,
Somewhere I can die inside,
Secretly not ok.
Daughter of Autumn
Entered the lake.
No ripple in wake.
Nightgown tied tightly
To a lifetime of sorrow,
To rocks and stones, and
A book she had borrowed.
She whimsically wished
There were waterlillies.
Icy water passed over her chin.
Gave herself into the water..
Cries no more, Autumn’s Daughter.
Got my pockets full-up
For a firefly summer.
Treats to attract tiny
Not every chocolate bar
Will be so sacrificial.
Get me through the day.
Stained brown pockets and a
Been left out with the trash,
But what else could I do?
I’m filled with the hate
I keep getting from you.
You keep disregarding and
Discarding my dreams,
Yet you’re still blind that
I’m torn at the seams.
You fill me with waste,
Don’t even know what you’ve done.
And the more you force in,
The less I become.
Now it’s so toxic,
Everything that you do,
You can’t even see
You’ve made me toxic too.
So I’m here with the waste,
Nothing else I can do,
I’m so full inside, but
I’m so empty too.
I despise this
I don’t want it,
Yet no one will ever
Wrest it from
Neither can I cast it off.
I smelled her before I heard her.
The smell of ozone, and freshly cut grass.
She stood quietly behind me, watching as I teetered along the edge of the rooftop, eyes squeezed shut, singing as gleefuly and loudly as I was able;
“Singin’ Radiohead at the top of our lungs,
With the boom box blaring as … ”
I stopped, thought for a moment, then spun neatly on one foot to face her.
“Do you suppose”, I pondered aloud, “That p’raps I should be singing Radiohead at the top of my lungs, instead of singing at the top of my lungs about singing Radiohead at the top of my lungs?
It hardly makes much sense to sing about singing about something, when one may just as well sing it to begin with!”.
I nodded, satisfied, as I wobbled slightly on the narrow ledge. It was perfectly marvelous logic.
“Alice”, she said gently “It’s time to come down.”
“It’s alright”, I waved my hand around like a proud performer, “I shan’t fall off, its…at least somewhat partially safe”.
She looked at me reproachfully; “You know what I mean, Alice.”
I pouted. I knew exactly what she meant.
“I’m sure no one would mind if I stayed a little longer…”
“You’ve been up for over two weeks now”.
It sounded accusatory.
“Yes! Two glorious weeks up!”
I grinned. “It’s been simply wonderous”.
She frowned at me. “Alice. You know how this works.”
“Fine. It was getting boring anyhow”, I lied.
It was never boring.
I stepped down onto the roof as she held out her hands.
Coated in the blackest of black.
Blackness so dark it was more like an absence of light than a physical substance.
She look at me with a strangely sad expression.
“Brace yourself Alice, I’m afraid this one is going to leave a mark.”
She leaned forward and put her hands inside my head…
Across the table, my mother looked up from her dinner plate.
“Did you say something, honey?
I thought my house
Would stand against the storm.
That I could weather,
Yet not be worn.
But now I’m deconstructing.
Brick by brick
I’ll be gone.
So I killed a girl.
Gave her medication
And a grey, grey world.
Now she’s one of the walking dead,
Echoes of emptiness
Filling her head.
I come across her everyday
In reflections I chance to see.
She just won’t leave or go away..
Because she’s me.
She smiled, and gestured to the bottle.
‘So, would you say the bottle is half full?
Or half empty?’
‘You drank my juice again’.
Confessions of crystalline aches.
Bends, breaks, mistakes.
An icy affinity for cracking.
Wrote heartbroken hands
‘I have darkness’.
They found her broken letters and verse,
Ending with the trembling words
Writ in blood-stained ink: ‘I am lacking’.
Dressed the dawn
In splendour, added
Highlights to her hair.
Spread her gown across the land,
Became the day.
Jump on in.
Did you think this time
You would finally swim?
Sink on down.
Just like the last time,
You’re going to drown.
The sea’s too wide.
You know you can’t make it,
You’ve already tried.
Run and hide.
One day you’ll realise
You’ve already died.
A little sugar please,
In the coffee of my days.
They are unsweetened, black,
And full of malaise.
Just a spoonful of honey
To lighten the taste,
Of endless afternoons
Going to waste.
I’m only a bit of a failure,
But failure is failure you see,
The way any size hole is a hole,
The way that I’m always me.
And I’m only a little messed up,
The way rain is a little bit wet,
And I’m only a little bit better,
But I’m not very better yet.
A little bit broken is broken,
How long is a piece of string?
A little bit crazy is crazy, and
I’m a little bit everything.
Morning finds me seated
Upon the stair in soft repose,
And so remain unmoving
To bide the time from whence I rose,
There to await the days’ fickle pleasure.
Today is still an ocean,
Depression, Sirens’ song.
Although I’m holding to the mast,
I’ve never been that strong.
My strength is fading quickly,
My grip is growing weak,
All the crew just stand aside
And watch me, super-freak.
Always feeling like an outcast
Makes me wonder why I struggle.
So much for my ocean,
I think I’m drowning in a puddle.
I wake up every morning,
And I get up just because.
Each time, I am something less
Than something that I was.
My fingers’, cut and bleeding
From picking off the floor,
Tiny broken splinters
Of what I was before.
Days of endless madness
Hardly knowing what I do.
Sudden chills of horror
When I realize what is true.
My mind is like the construct
The poet Yeats foretold:
‘Things fall apart;
the centre cannot hold’.
I am not myself, several times a day,
If you’ve never felt like this,
You may think that’s ok.
But I’ve got a feeling,
This will never change.
How many times in a day
Can sanity rearrange?
Because I’ve got a feeling,
It’s too much to take.
There’s only so many times it bends
Before the willow breaks.
The fall of darkness finds
Everyone judged, sleeping in sheets
Of dishonest dreams and cool disdain.
You said you drew night nearer
Because it’s that dark endless piece,
The one from the edge of the world,
Beyond where sanity lies.
I have too many empty chairs,
Empty coffee cups,
The aching feeling no one cares,
Just empty hallways, empty stairs.
There are too many empty places,
Where there should be faces,
Nothing but the faintest traces,
Faded postcards, old suitcases.
No one calling on the phone,
No one asking
If I’m home.
Just an endless dial tone
The universe is out my window,
The stars all shine and the moon hangs low,
And I wonder where the parts of me go,
When I’m not myself, the self I know.
When I’m busy being someone different,
Parts of me wonder where parts of me went,
Where was myself for the time that I spent
No longer at home, not paying the rent?
So while myself was out to play,
I sat and idled my time away,
Where I went I cannot say,
I hope I had a pleasant day.
And now myself is home again,
I’ve been here since who knows when,
Where will I be in the end?
If I find out, I’ll tell you then.
I attempted to be strong,
And though pain can make you stronger,
Strength fades in the end,
And I simply can’t pretend
We hide from ourselves
As best we may,
And I always thought I could,
Until my trees became my wood,
And I lost my way.
I’m lost and afraid,
And it hurts not to show,
But as hard as I try
I can’t see the sky,
And there’s nowhere for me to go.
It’s ironic, in the end,
That I should be the one,
Thinking I was stronger,
Who just ran so much longer,
When there was nowhere left to run.
Today is an ocean,
Declared freshly formed
By the clocks’ relentless rotation,
Yet already I drown.
Dragged under by possibilities.
Some already lost,
Others to be found,
All of them are heavy,
And this ship is going down.
Tonight is a bad night.
Sick with the certainty that the stars are going out, and that my life will never be anything more than broken and empty, I feel small.
Small and alone.
Though somehow I feel even smaller on the inside.
Cliches pour through my mind like so much teenage chatter on a bus, and I want to scream at them to ‘like, shut up, like’.
It’s freezing, freezing, freezing, yet in nothing but a t-shirt I burn as if possessed with a fatal fever, both hot and cold.
In the corner of my eyes, or maybe just the corner of my mind, the laughter of shadows dance and disappear.
Infinitely tired, but I will not sleep.
Exhausted and spent, yet I pace and fidget, twitch and move constantly in restless indignation.
How such a large and empty house can press so closely upon me, to push in upon my mind, yet echo endlessly with unsettling sounds, escapes my understanding.
So strange to wish for nothing but tears, yet neither will I cry.
Every misery, imagined and remembered, plays endlessly on repeat on the iMax of my mental cinema.
A solo screening.