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..

Poetry sketches..

(STICKY)

My mind.
My thoughts.
My words. (for the most part)

Demanded release. Escaped onto page.

It is what it is.

Note: Please do not follow my blog. 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 a thing.. in my head.. about followers…anyway …I appreciate your support. 💕🥰

Site content (C)opyright AliceDarkFae. (where applicable).

Alice is currently in Hospital.

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.

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..

..it’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.

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.
FU-CK-ING CRAZY.

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.

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)

Until Stars End

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

Dance

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?

so sorry..

Oh, my friend, I’ve broken it,
And I can’t seem to find,
Strength inside these shadows
Where nothing ever shines.
And what it is I’ve broken?
My life, my soul, my mind.

So, my friend, forgive me,
For not holding on,
There’s nothing left to cling to,
Or even stand upon,
When bad has outweighed good
For so very, very long.

And, my friend I’m sorry if
I can’t catch you if you fall.
It’s not that I won’t be there
To help you if you call,
It’s because I just won’t be
Anything at all.

Plastic lives

I watch the people, and their
Greener sided fences.
I note their masks and their reflex defenses.
I move through life just being myself,
‘though I could be anyone. Anybody else.

I watch the people and their plastic smiles,
Their luxury sports cars driven less than five miles.
Armani suits, suited to suit them,
Or viewed through the right eyes, suiting their disguise.
And I wonder if they’re happy in their artificial lives.

I watch the people. I could mimic their movements,
Act out their gestures, smiles, plastic puppetry.
And I wonder if I’m happier inside self-misery.
‘Cos I could have it, have everything I see.
And all it would cost is me.

Silly Wabbit..

Something always draws me back,
Though I’ll admit when I was wrong.
But try an understanding that
Sometimes I ‘m here, but my soul is gone.

Endless aching wears away
Far more than I can spare,
Lays raw my sensitivity,
‘Til I break down and lie, saying I don’t care.

I’ll hide behind glib arrogance and puns,
A child ‘neath her mother’s skirts,
You may be misled if you think i don’t care,
I care so fucking much it hurts.

And oft I am wont,
To see each struggling step-by-step
As progress in the grind,
‘Til in my ear, a whisper,
And laughter from behind:

‘Silly rabbit’ sayeth life,
‘Trix are for kids…’

Where do we go, from here?

My thoughts ring out like gunshots,
I feel the wounds within,
The warmth inside me bleeds away,
My soul is wearing thin.

I’m standing here in darkness,
Staring straight into the sun.
My heart unable to decide if
I’m ending or just begun.

The choice keeps getting colder.
Do I end here or begin?
Because before I get much older,
I might end up giving in.

Joke’s on me..


Didn’t get that far through ‘Joker’,
Before I started to cry.
I wouldn’t make a very good clown,
I couldn’t say why.

Movies I see in myself
Always tend bring me down,
Because people are cruel and unkind
To those with a different mind.

You’d have to look pretty hard to find
One more different than mine
Around here.

I can’t put a label on it,
Except that I don’t seem to fit
Around here.

But I still couldn’t tell you why,
A movie of a man who laughs
Is making me cry.

Songs & forgotten daydreams

I’m older than this time yesterday,
But younger than seconds hence,
I feel there’s so much more time to spend
On the other side of that fence.

I know all the lyrics to my favourite songs,
But can never remember the tune,
While only the grace of borrowed light
Allows you to see the moon.

I’m surrounded by good looking daydreams,
Of who I want, or want to be.
I’m in love with my ego,
But my ego don’t love me.

Lost

Where’d it go?
The bright star I should follow.
The blackbird or the swallow,
I hoped would guide me home.

For I am lost.

Meandering, misguided and malingering,
Looking for a coloured string
Or breadcrumbs softly scattering
That mark my path unknown.

You may feel lucky when you know where you are,
But unfortunately for me and my stolen star,
This reversely is adversely conversely true,
And I’ve wandered way too far.

And the moment, this moment, well maybe I own it,
Or maybe I’m in a dark room,
Pitch black, with a cat that I’m trying to catch,
Whose existence I only assume.

And my dreams all sprout from darkness sown,
And I’m always and never forever alone,
They forged my last sword into a throne,
An unending game I play to atone.

Swirling in my haunted head,
Promises broken, friends misled,
Choosing one, not the other instead,
What have you got to lose?

Only your dreams, your soul and your shoes,
And the brightly coloured thread.

Let’s be outspoken

Every single one of us
Has something longing tries.
That speaks from unseen places,
Within each heart, decries.

No grand proclamations,
No great discourse or mystic word,
But a simple desire
To be understood and heard.

With each attempt to make a sound,
Ten will overcome.
Our melodies defeated,
Our vocal chords undone.

Too oft these sounds are violent,
Compelling gentleness to choke and die.
For each of us that has no voice,
Therein shadows lie.

Conformity

It seems I posess a penchant
For inexplicably, inextricably
Colouring on the outside
Of lines they create with such pride
Then insist I remain inside.
I ask for pencils
In Shades of Cezanne Blue,
‘Cos what would Tori use?
And lines are just a thing
I want to draw right through.
I felt I was drawing everything alone,
But one day I saw you:
Colouring outside the lines.

More fool, I – Hindsight.

I spend so much effort resistin’
Anything that feels like addiction,
Convinced myself I was winning,
While you were addicted and grinning.

Now I’m not so sure,
What I was put here for,
Always avoiding the dance floor,
Avoiding drugs and drink even more.

Got buried in my own sorrow,
Hating being alive,
While you lived life like tomorrow
Would never, ever arrive.

So who was the idiot then?
Happiest way back when
We had the chance to be carefree.
I thought that I could see
Further than you.
Guess I hadn’t a clue.

You seem happier still,
Moreso than I ever will.
Lately I seem to find
Myself in a forest of pines…

My wisdom but a soap bubble

Merry whatever…

Well here we are, it’s time again,
The festive season.
Time to hurt the ones we love,
No rhyme nor reason.

An Angel sits atop the tree,
As something to believe in.
Should e’er an angel come to earth,
May my heart unfreeze then.

If we all got gifts our deeds deserve,
Not rewards just for believing,
There’d be no need to wrap them up,
You can’t hide the truth by deceiving.

Good to heaven, bad to hell?
Some have faith,
But some things
You can’t buy or sell.

We all find what we need to believe,
Don’t need a reason.
I only have faith in what I can see,
Enjoy plastic season.

..in a blaze of glory.

I bear the scars of your forty-fives,
You tried your best but I’m still alive.
You used two pistols and magazines,
Shot my heart and destroyed my dreams,
But a heart still works if it still cries,
And I cry.

I’m full of holes from your forty-fives,
You couldn’t have missed me if you tried,
But planned demise isn’t what it seems,
Because I survived all your plots and schemes,
And a thing’s alive if it still bleeds,
And I bleed.

Now I’m immune to your forty-fives,
And when you shoot me, I will still survive.
The slugs are out and the wounds are clean,
So go find better guns, if you’re still keen,
Cos a girl’s alive if she can dream,
And I dream.

Falling With Autumn

I suppose the trees, in retrospect,
I should have attended, my neglect
Of time’s subtle scythe, and due respect
For their reminder; nature always calls,
And she who answers always falls.
A premonition of my future
Abandoned casually by trees
Crying red,
Dying, dead.
Autumn leaves, as they led
Falling echoes of my life,
Fleeting, fled. Underfoot
On which to tread, and I,
Despondent, sighing said:
‘There lies everything,
Don’t by it’s beauty, be misled.
The whole world and all within ends thus:
These dying leaves are us’.

Mental Marionette

There seem so many truths,
Which one do I face?
Which one takes the place
On the pedestal?

When I tried to face them all,
They warned me I would fall;
See me falling.
Trying to pretend
That the song will never end,
But for better or for worse
I think I’m running short of verse.

I can pretend at emotion,
Lip syncing to the song,
But the words are all rehearsed,
And each line is getting worse.
All I feel now is an emptiness,
Just nothingness, maybe less.

An undefined ache
Where I thought my soul should go,
But I’ve always been a fake
And I just put on a show.
So convincingly the act
That I once believed the fact
That I could be a real girl.
But oh, Pinoccio,
I should have listened
To you.

Catch 22

If I had anything to say, maybe of interest,
I’d pin the fuckin’ thing up on my pinterest.
But all my conversations now are with myself,
And it’s slowly eating at my mental health.

Like seagulls picking at a whales’ rotting corpse,
The wide beach view is fine, until of course,
You look a bit closer, see the detail,
That’s my sanity: half eaten whale.

I should probably get a friend or maybe two,
I like them in the same way I like you.
Fine until they open up their mouth,
Then I don’t want to hear whatever shit is coming out.

Well, maybe I’m a narcissistic bitch,
With some kind of messed up mental itch,
But if I scratch it ’til it don’t itch any more,
There’ll be chunks of greyish matter scattered all over the floor.

They say you’ll never love someone ‘til you learn to love yourself,
Well Catch 22, here’s a thought, let me share the wealth.
How can I learn to love myself, ’til I’m loved by someone else?
The lesson goes both ways, as most good lessons do,
And because everybody else hates me,
I’ve learned to hate me too.

Nothing for me.

Spent three weeks in an unmade bed,
A pounding in my skull,
Repeating thoughts in my head.
Like the lyrics of a song
Singing ‘please let me die before long.’

I’m trying hard to hold on to the act of holding on,
But even now my own mind wants me gone,
So the line I’m holding onto’s not that strong.
The simple problem with this kind of rope, you see,
Is that it’s tethered far too tightly to my sanity.

Maybe if I enjoyed a single moment,
Maybe if I could control or own it,
I’d be happier alive,
Given a reason to survive,
But all I get is non-stop misery.

So fuck me.
No apologies for profanity.
I’m stuck here in my head, wishing I was fuckin’ dead,
Because there’s nothing in this world that I can see,
Nothing for me.
Nothing for me.

Have You Seen This Life?

Have you seen my life around?
Now it’s lost,
I have found,
The whole world wanting.

Not pages torn from fairy tales,
Far stranger by many accords,
No songs to make a million sales,
Or plays stepped out on Broadway boards.

But it’s a dizzy, dancing, summer spark,
A falling, flying Meadowlark, and
All those nights spent in the park
Laughing in rain, and wet, and dark.

Also the sharpest knife that ever was,
A blade that has no par.
It has to be that sharp because
It constantly cuts, with ne’er a scar.

Those kind of days are hard to misplace,
Oft’ tattooed upon my face,
There, in ink you can’t erase,
Writ large the tale, my fall from grace.

Fading

I’m not sure if I forgot
Or have just grown indecisive,
But I can’t really quite recall
Exactly what my life is.
I used to know where I belong.
Used to have a favourite song.
Favourite author.
Favourite food.
Favourite colour.
Favourite mood.
Now I don’t know
What my greatest fear is,
Favourite beer is,
Time of year is,
Or even how deep the lithosphere is..
OK, I never really knew that last one,
Carry on, my wayward son.

“..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.

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.

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
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.’

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.

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.

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)?
.
..

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

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

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.