Gradually Infinite.

How did I miss them?
Everyday they came.
So small, it all just seemed the same.
If I noticed without worry, I am sorry.
For each microscopic gap, the infinite tiny spaces,
Gathering gradually over time.
Connecting to make this chasm.
Such a painfully intricate distance
Between hearts.

Pencils

15 boxes of pencils, and
Countless pages, and
I’m still trying to write
How I feel about me.

15 boxes empty, and
More notesbooks full, and
I’m still trying to draw
What I want you to see.

Not Not OK

When your mind is broken
And the world is wreckage
Inside you,
They tell you to say:
That you’re not ok,
No, you’re not OK.

So I said it, I wrote it,
Used my blood to draw,
And what the fuck for?
Nobody listened, nobody cared,
Nobody got what I shared and I shared.
I guess that was lucky,
Because although I had tried
To express how I wish how I really had died,
Express how I hated myself and my life,
How my pain got less with each cut of a knife,
It turns out I was actually, really, OK,

Compared to how I am now anyway.

Young and ‘insane’

Apparently my informed honesty is wasted,
Overwhelmed by stolen analogies and unfriend-me messages.
‘Unbalanced Alice’, so susceptible to mind-space deficiencies
And fairy-tale moonlight monoaminergic rushes.
The happiest of unhappy clowns. Careful never to grow up,
Because adults abuse their lungs and veins,
Simply to achieve the same.

Bipolar Unpredicted.

Despite these slow bright waterdrops,
My rainbow remains incomplete.
I thought I had booked my happiness well ahead of time,
Pre-forming a flood of excess enthusiasm.
Instead, I made popcorn for the gathering storm
And prepared to go swimming.

Suicidal Ideation

Vicodin? Percocet?
Still not sure which to get.
If only oblivion tasted more
Like raspberry and chocolate.
Why are these things so hard to choose?
Although nothing really matters when
There’s nothing left to lose.
Vodka? Tequila? Fifty year-old Scotch?
My favourite song that hurts just right,
Put on ‘The Crow’ to watch.
Video diary? Hand written letter?
Email or text?
It doesn’t matter, it will won’t change
What will happen next.

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.

Mona Lisa Crash Cart

Her smile is a Mona Lisa Crash Cart.
A work of art that stops and starts
The broken beat of my poor heart.
Her lips are painting perfect, her smile mystifying,
I bet even a single kiss would be electrifying.
When it’s briefly, brilliantly, put on display,
I surge with desire to steal her away.
When I see her, my career ambition
Is ‘art critic with a heart condition’,
So I can see her defibrillating smile play,
As they wheel my body away.

Why So Serious?

Wanna know how I got this scar?
Let my trust stretch a touch too far.
Got run over by the car
That you happened to be driving.

Shattered limbs, broken bones,
Barely breathing, made it home.
Found everything I’d ever owned
Burning on the front lawn.

You said our life was such a mess,
Everything my fault, more or less.
It didn’t hurt much, I confess,
Until you smiled.

Destroy the things I want and need,
Run me down, for I concede,
The only thing that makes me bleed
Is that smile.

Like a knife, it cuts me deep,
Leaving scars I’ll always keep.
You ask me how, but already knew.
I got these scars from you.

Dear Santa..about that heart.

Where do the pieces of a broken heart go
If they’re too fragile to stitch, or you don’t know how to sew?
Are they put back together with some mystical glue,
Or is there somewhere you can go, to purchase one that’s new?

One thing’s for certain, it takes forever in time,
Fresh hearts are in demand, judging by the waiting line.
Installing a new heart must be hard, I’ve no doubt,
But I’m stuck at the part where your insides are your out.

This isn’t really new though, it’s not my first time ’round,
First-timers wait the longest, due to covering fresh ground.
I always ask for Adamantium, for a heart that cannot break,
But they keep giving me a glass one, and no choice but to take.

I never see who does it all, maybe it’s Santa Claus.
If he’s not received my letter yet,
I’d like to add this clause:

“Dear Santa, let’s just skip right to the end,
You can forgo all the material gifts,
If you’ll hurry up and mend
Me.”

ice ice, baby.

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

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

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

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

——

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

“..hardly hedgerows, little lines..”

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

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

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

Weekdays

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

Filled up with Empty

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

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

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

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

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

Hello Darkness, my old friend

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

Alone, Together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Together Forever (not)

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

Misery in greater detail..

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

All the Times

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

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

You.

A Tidy Demise

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

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

Ungiven

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

Watch Out!

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

Sharp as a hammer

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

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

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

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

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

Innocence lost

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

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

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

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

Shooting my mouth off

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

Text me with your best shot

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

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

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

Irony

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

Window Pain..

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

Coffee, tears, and misery.

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

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

kind of.. analogous

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

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

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

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

on reading Alice..

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

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

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

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

Blood Angel

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

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

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

Unseen

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

fairly self exploratory..

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

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

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

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

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

Grain

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

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

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

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

Wreck

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

Pointless

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

Once in a lullaby..

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

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

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

Colour me

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

Once upon a lover

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

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

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

punishment?

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

Back So Soon?

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

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

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

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

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

Sleep in.

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

Eyes Closed

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

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

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

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

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

With my eyes closed.

Stir well, until crazy

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

Smile Alice, we’re just getting started.

Nonsense..

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

Of teacups..

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

poorly timed

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

please stop being bipolar..

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

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

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

Be an emotion whore.

Colouring Book

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

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

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

insignificant

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

Miss Mirror

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

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

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

“…I want to get off.”

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

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

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

Don’t say it..

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jealous much?

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

Comes something new..

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

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

Then tear it some more.

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

Now.

WonderlessLand

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

mentally ill

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

occasional luck

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

treasure map

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

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

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

strangely lonely

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

worthless

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

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

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

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

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

sunrise..

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

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

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

Gathers speed.
Begins to live.

I watch and sip as the world is made anew.

Breaking up and down.

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

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

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

Poor little bloggers.

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

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

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

Mis-thoughts

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

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

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

Wha..?

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t seem that far to fall
Anyway

By Moonlight

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

Going my way?

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

I know the way,
And it’s
Down.
Down.

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

Shaken, not stirred

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

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

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

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

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

Humpty

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

whose party is this?

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

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

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

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

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

Mary, Mary..

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

woven

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

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

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

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

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

Words and Walls

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

drag me down

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

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

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

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

Cry

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

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

Listen harder..

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

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

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

My Chaotic Mind

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

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

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

Lies. (thoughts ‘n stuff.)

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


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

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

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

And it burns.

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

Or perhaps that’s just another lie.

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

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

Others break.

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

—–/
*’Now You See Me’.

the ink within

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

on the count of three..

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

life sucks, and then..

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

uh..

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

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

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

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

a friend by any other name..

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

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

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

nice to meet you..

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

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

vent not..

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

dying inside..

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

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

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

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

moonlight mentality

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I count the used up coffee cups to see.

That loser in the gutter looks a lot like me.

Oops!

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

the sorrow tree

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

..the bright side..

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

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

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

There ought to be clowns..

drifting

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

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

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

overthinking

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

echoes..

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

comfortable precipitation

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

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

barefoot

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

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

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

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

Frayed..

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

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

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

Wish I Was Here

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

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

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

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

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

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

Us.

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

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

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

vancancy

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

ignorable

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

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

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

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


over and over

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

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

Dead, but
Still breathing.

In my mind, I
Have died ten thousand times.

What’s once more?

acid etched..

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

flicker..

=

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

raindrop

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

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

just rude..

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

coming undone

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

lesson learned

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

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

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

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

nothing is new

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..

sand castles

Little dove,
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.

low key

Ah melancholy,
Am I in love with sadness?
So broken and so
Fucked
Up?
Coffee and a little
Something
To bring me down.
Nina Simone,
Turned up so loud,
Vibration becomes
Entwined with sound.
Take me high or
Bring me down.
Normal is for amateurs.

push

Give me just a little push,
For I stand poised
Upon the razors edge
Of now
And forever.
And I long to know which way
I’ll fall.

permission to self-hate

May I not look into myself
And find,
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,
Completely just.
How dare you say I mustn’t,
When I must, I must.
I must.

abstract

Afraid of climbing further
Out along that limb?
They’re burning eBooks
Now, down below, my friend.
Anything can be something
To hate..

..my old friend..

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.

The Saga of Alice Insane

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
Something.
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.

way too many feels..

RAGE

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.

FRUSTRATION

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.

REGRET

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.

MISERY

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.

SHAME

Because I am too weak to bear it in silence.
Because I am too weak to bear it at all.

HYSTERIA

Sick, cruel, mocking laughter, at the biggest joke of all: Myself.

They say if you don’t laugh, you cry.
I’m doing both..

something to destroy

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
Inhales self-hatred.

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?

wait for the drop..

Riding the low wave,
I am less than myself.
Now destabilised.
Now unsafe.
Attempts to find reason
Unfold my ever diminishing mind.
The view of the abyss
Imminently impending,
Finds me sick,
Leaves me sicker.

self

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.

drat and bother

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.

one or the other

You gave me a lengthy look,
And then you took
Heaven away.
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.
Only one.
I never know, if I’ll stay or when I’ll go.

It’s dizzying,
Tied to this piece of string
Of a child,
Whose temperament goes wild.
Unable to control
Their yoyo.
My life.
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.
Unbalanced inside.

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?”

you know?

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.

 why
                can't
          you
                             hear
         me?


insomnia

Where art thou Morpheus?
I seek Lethe and no other,
Guidance and
Protection from Thanatos
Thy brother.

Rivers five, so similar,
I may confuse
And in my earnest haste for
Oblivion, choose
Poorly to my dismay.

So for the briefest moment,
Guide my way.
Clutch’d tight is my
Fare for the ferryman….


*snap*

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,
Emotions, and
Ability to care.

bipolar bicycle

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.