Thanks, Bitch.

I said to my friend ‘Most of the time, I just hate being me. I wish I was someone different.
Do other people have those kind of thoughts, or is it just me that thinks that way?’.

She said ‘No, other people wish you were someone different too.’

Some Days

Some days
I don’t know that you exist,
On others I don’t even really care.
Some days
I want to slit my wrist,
But I fear I’ll find but emptiness in there.
On so many days
I’m simply lost inside my brain,
Or inside the parts that might remain
If you cut me all apart,
Awareness and an aching heart.

But some days
I cannot unremember,
For the sun becomes an ember
When compared to you.
Some days
All that will exist
Are the parts of you I’ve kissed,
So at least I will have all of you.

Some days
You’re my everything.
Some days.

When was it you left?

I never even noticed the clock.
Did it tick?
Did it tock?
Did it not?
Was it frozen in indecision,
In the moment that was lost
When you reached the doorway threshold
And you stepped across?
Stuck? Between that second and the last,
Unable to move on, unable to move past
A fate of helpless observation,
Endless replaying rotation.
A mechanical mind,
Unable to find resolution
Or a hint of absolution,
Sounds so very much like mine.
Because when you left the last time,
When you left for the very last time..
I never even noticed the clock.

Heartlost


Composure,
Yeah I lost it.
My mind, I lost that too.
I lost my heart and everything,
The moment I lost you.
Now I’m shaking and unsure of
How I’m supposed to feel,
My friend’s are so blasé
But to me it’s a huge deal.
My stomach’s in my chest,
I’ve lost track of all the rest,
Each cell in me is bleeding tears.
Although I’ve tried to act my best,
I don’t give a fuck about
Backlash or all that cost,
When all I want is gone,
Heartlost.

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.

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 corpse 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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

red

Red..
Scattered drops,
The orange light of a life, burning.
That scarlet spark.
Approach
Your perfect moment on the ledge.
You lied to keep me in thrall,
To give us another day without sorrow.
But I smell tangerines..

I, Humpty

I can tell by your tone
There’ll be no picket fence.
You try for casual discourses,
But I just hear King’s Horses
Assembling.
Eggshell amour,
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.

stigma

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.

drink me

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..

Garbage

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.