I like to do things.
I make things.
I distract myself, I always have.
It’s my form of safety and stability which isn’t something I’ve ever had the luxury of.
I my worst times I’ve drawn or painted. When the power went out and my portfolio was due I was painting. When I was in the hospital as my sister was on the way I had my art book with me painting. It changed and morphed into photography as I got older. Then I was left in darkness when the worst happened. No art book in sight just feelings left to be felt personally I look back now and I think that’s why I struggled so badly. Recently I changed jobs and I’m struggling again but it’s like my body didn’t lose count, the making , the knitting , the colouring I’m back to my default.
Apr 22, 2024
Apr 22, 2024 at 5:05 AM UTC
Days past before they knew I was really gone. It wasn’t my fault it was hers. She reels you in with her false hopes, I try to ignore them but her whispers morph into eccentric thuds and before you know it you’re drowning.
She Sits in my belly distant yet close. The old tedious Lady hope.“Just give me a chance” she begs I glare at her in disgust. She questions me “Why do you keep me here if you aren’t willing to listen to me?”. I freeze and stare at her. She knows why I won’t let her leave but she just wants to hear it. I refuse to give her the satisfaction. I like to think that I don’t need saving, even if I do.
She keeps her distance and for good reason. She’s an old acquaintance, she isn’t fond of me and nor am I of her yet she doesn’t often leave me. She knows deep down that if it wasn’t for her I would be alone and unprotected. She whispers words of encouragement and only speaks of optimism. I constantly discard it.
She whispers to me sweetly “you’ll escape you will be someone somewhere”. She tried to escape yesterday so I locked the door. She’s grown tired of me neglecting her.
I pushed her too far and with that she was gone. There I was unprotected. Alone and Vulnerable. Just waiting to be ****** into a whirlpool of my own troubles.
“One day in town at the edge of the world the tide went out and never returned. At first people were little more than puzzled. A desert of unbelievable magnitude was forming before their very eyes”.
It swallowed me whole took me right out into the ocean. We both vanished without a trace. Not a drop to be seen. She had left me for good.
Hope ran away but truth soon replaced her.
Truth was always blunt and never held anything back it made me miss hope. I realised that you don’t appreciate something until it’s gone.
Truth would try to manipulate me and play me like a puppet. Truth liked to play God and watch me suffer. I was trapped because with truth came all the lies that had been hiding it. The lies are what hurt the most. Perhaps their intentions were good but the outcome wasn’t.
Waves washed over me attempting to cleanse me, help me, push me up to shore. Hope had returned but she was too late I had already drowned.
People began to notice the empty seat in class and the oceanless beach. The ocean had left and taken me with it. A sudden eruption of panic and despair trembled in their voices as they searched for the ocean and I.
It was for certain that I was gone. A melancholy shadow swept the whole town. Once the adrenalin had left, everyone was overpowered with fear.“They had no choice but to face each other in their loss together and alone”.
Our memory faded quickly, everyone began to grow comfortable and fill in all our ugly holes. It bothers me that I was that easily forgotten then again I didn’t exactly try to make my mark because all I wanted to do was leave. I guess this was just a different way of leaving.
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 3:50 AM UTC
You're not a poet
you didnt go for that bachelor in english
you don't know shakespeare or jane austin or william blake
you know you're just a phony a fake
Oh dear But let me tell you
my spoken word may not move mountains or lakes
but it lets me bleed without bleeding
it lets me cry while
stops me and maybe others from wanting to die
it erupts from my lungs , bursting at the seams
it makes the hairs on strangers necks and forearms salute my words
no piece of paper can validate the words that i speak
for my words dont come from books
i speak from the pits of life you speak from remixes of your of english classics
we both can speak , we both can talk
But only one of us has come back from the walk
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 5:03 AM UTC
eject eject
there's no backspace
where is delete
whats done has been done
now hes crying at her feet
lifeless they lay
only he is to blame
if only she listened
but instead her eyes glisten
to the sound of only his name
but witjout knowing he was insane
an easy fix
itll just take some time
you chose his company over mine
and now look what youve done
yet its only begun
see i saw this mum
i could see this coming
you stopped and stayed but i kept on running
we've been to a place not as bad as this before
yet its like we've just gone into a second round of war
we know what its like when they lay a hand
so why would you go back are you crazy or just sad
would you not rather be alone
then to die at his throne
today isnt the day but
tomrrow could be the one
have you not thought this through?
how this effecs me and you
and lets not forget bout my sister
she thnks shes being raised by a minister
but al i see is a wolf in sheepskin
his patenice with her is wewaing rather thin
see its only a matter of time
mum you cant hit rewind
but can hit her and caus he already hits you
your a lost cause
we're all holding the applause
just let her go you know shell be safer
becuase she is destined for a life so much greater
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
watch me
watch me as stuff your mouth with flowers
watch me
as i hide your knives in my ***** draw
watch me
as you strangle me in my sleep but im too ashmed to tell anyone
watch me
as i accept all the im sorry's and i didnt mean to's
watch me
as i t protest that this was all an over reatcion to the police that visit me each month concerned for mine and my childrens saftey
watch me
as i make the biggest mistake ive ever made and wont be the only one paying for it
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 3:40 AM UTC
There's wounds in your heart, carving tunnels of hate and sadness. This isn't you, but this is what life has done to you.
It's making you cold and bitter
You are human,
Made of flesh bones and spirit
Your spirit weakens as your load begins to weigh you down.
Your bourdon can't be shared.
You have to bare this on your own kiddo.
But know that the rain cries with you.
The rain knows your pain and she sorrows with you.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
The relapse has already begun
He doesn't know that and I hope that he won't.
He doesn't realise the aftermath of saying something like that to someone like me.
He doesn't know about the bottles and bottles of water to feel full,
He doesn't know about the counting of calories.
He doesn't know what goes on behind the bathroom stalls
He doesn't know the reason I have a toothbrush to purge and a different one for my teeth.
He doesn't know about the tracking of kilometers reached,
He doesn't know about the regret of takeout,
He just doesn't know how bad it is
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC