I can see the sun
I can't feel it on my face
And my womb is cracking
Can't even keep it together on the outside
I'm not keeping it together on the outside.
Hopes and aspirations run dry
Sitting in the dark away from the light
Heads roll, fingers bleed, bodies slam
But nothing ever ******* changes.
You'd have to be alive
For blood to flow.
I'm cold.
Breaking shells
Alone in the light
Breaking shells
No end is in sight
I just want to go home.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 5:32 PM UTC
There are hearts of gilt,
And there are hearts of sin
There are hearts that lose,
And there are hearts that win.
There are hearts of stone.
But if my heart was anything,
It'd be a cactus.
Prickly and unwelcoming with tight alien-green skin,
That never fails to swell to accommodate whatever grew inside unseen.
With love it'd bulge,
And it'd shrink in the absence of love.
(But with the right care it could bloom the most spectacular flowers.)
There are strong hearts,
But even strong hearts give in.
My heart is a cactus heart,
My heart could keep it all in.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
Talking to you is God's gift
Because if I thought I had feelings I know now for sure
And when you say
You gotta go home
I hate it.
Because I don't like being alone
The music grows quiet and the food gets cold
And the night has nothing to hide anymore.
You were the reason I stayed up to see the moon.
Talk to you later, see you soon, say goodnight
But this time
I can't say goodbye.
I'm not sure why.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 6:58 PM UTC
For Christmas
I would like a terrarium
So that in a small space where there is little to breathe and most die slowly and in pain
I shall make something beautiful contained within itself
And it shall never need to meet the outside world.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
Nice to meet you
I think I've seen
You roaming the halls
Chewing your thumb
And muttering some Pink Floyd song
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
Nice to meet you
I think I've seen
You roaming the halls
Chewing your thumb
And muttering some Pink Floyd song
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 6:52 PM UTC
When Dante saw Beatrice,
Shakespeare did weep.
Rosaline and Romeo,
Paris and Juliet.
So tell me, what is supposed,
Of the other girl?
The girl who is not loved,
But loves alone?
The girl who takes multiple journeys along multiple roads,
But keeps ending up at cul de sacs?
She is not Beatrice,
She is not Rosaline,
And she is not Juliet.
I hope she is alright,
I hope she is alright.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
One day,
I find myself
Stroking my hair.
My fingers place between three ribs,
Of my best asset.
I look down at them,
Fine and fierce and fearless.
Three ribs,
Barely cut,
And it hangs off the cage of my head.
I place my hands on either side of my head,
Trying to steady the shaking, malformed,
Ball of meat inside.
I know I'm crazy
Sad girl, mad girl,
But I need to find myself.
The scissors of my hands slice
The three ribs
Off,
They curl in brown and blonde tips.
They tangle, contort, into senseless shapes and letters,
And fall in hand.
I can feel it
When the only place I seem to exist is in my head,
It's my hair,
That lets me know I'm real.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
Love,
Has made me shameless.
I see your face, your car, your dog,
Pointless things that I attribute to you,
But I don't see them,
Not really.
And so I am here,
In the dark, lit up by the blue
Of Facebook on my computer screen.
I hold no shame,
For I am desperate for a sample of you.
I am hungry for you.
This sort of thing I'm doing, kills you inside.
But I need to see you
I need to remember your details,
I can't and won't forget you.
I know you don't do this
To me,
Things I thought were romantic was just friendship,
The weakest of friendship.
I'm just too dumb.
You and me; We pretend
That we're just friends,
Well, maybe you're not pretending,
But I am.
I see you to remind me of you,
The way you crouch over your guitar,
The jut of your chin,
The way your eyes shine,
When I make you happy.
Long, delicate fingers,
The bump in your nose,
Your acne,
Your hair,
The girlish colour of your mouth
That I hoped would touch one day
With my own.
For you, I have not suffered for my art
I have simply suffered.
And all that has come of it are the silliest, the dreamiest of girly love poems.
But I mean every word.
My dear, I've wasted my precious time
I'll let you sing your pithy rhymes
My darling, you've been a fool-
I'm a crazy lady, I'm no light touch-
But so have I.
You're a crazy boy, you're no light touch
You pulled me in with both hands-on
How was I supposed to get out?
Leave your places of worship,
That we share.
Perhaps you were special;
You were just different
But I am integral, and you are temporary.
You're just a friend, I suppose, if that's what I want it to be,
But that's confusing.
We pretend
To be best friends,
But were we really?
All I see, is just me
And you blowing me off,
And me saying to your mother
"Oh no, we're friends, it's fine."
My God,
What a ****** boyfriend you would have made.
What a bullet I dodged!
Darling, it's been ten months,
And we only live once.
Ten months ago,
Maybe I'd think differently.
My dear, perhaps you'll realise
And then, you'll feel
Your head will romanticize it all,
And perhaps you'll write some of your finest love songs,
About a girl, who cared, and cared far too long,
And now she doesn't think twice about you.
Ain't that sad?
I used to like
The idea of being your muse.
Bob Dylan's Suze Rotolo,
WB Yeats' Maud Gonne,
But
I'll be my own muse,
I'll inspire myself.
Life moves with water and sun, not with you.
Because, darling, it's been ten months,
And I
Am
Over you.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC