Dear Alice..

Dear Alice, I’m ‘fine’,
Hope this finds you in kind.
I’ve been writing some time
To you now, and I find,
You’re a strange friend of mine,
At least here in my mind.
Here inside of my mind, at least most the time.

Dear Alice, how are you?
If I am to stay true,
I’m having to tell you
That I’m lonely and blue,
I don’t know what to do
When the sky..The sky I swore would stay blue,
Is now gangrenous in hue.

Dear Alice, I’m dying,
Lost and I’m crying,
No amount of applying
Myself
Really matters
Anymore.
And I know that we swore..

Dear Alice, love you,
But I hate your guts too.
Everybody assumes
I suture up in my room.
With some string and old glue,
But I’m confessing to you,
There’s not much left I can do.

Dear Alice, I forgot,
To tell you just what
You really want me to not.
I sliced completely through our promise knot,
Along with my flesh, veins and a lot
That when I cut it apart,
All those stitches and knots,
Can’t put Humpty back on top.

Dear Alice, don’t you
Feel the very same too?
It’s not just things I go through,
But all the things , all the things, all the things I’ll never do.

So I’m cold. On the floor bleeding out
In so many different ways,
And every wound is very deeply laid
By every single fucking wasted day,
By all the thoughtless things that people say.

And I don’t want to stay, no, don’t want to stay.
Not like this anyway.
Hope you’ll forgive me some day.
Dear Alice.

Ex. marks the spot.

Just a little message to my Ex.
Though she may never read it,
Much less believe or heed it,
Or know how much I need it
To be known:
This place is just a house and not a home,
And I feel as though I’m living on my own,
Despite knowing that she’s in the nearest room.
“Remember our old tune. Be back soon.”

“Everything that has a beginning has an end”,
As did the friendship with my dearest friend;
If you’re reading this, I hope you know it’s true :
I miss my friend,
That part of me..
I. Miss. You.

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,
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.

pieces of me

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.