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****
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 11:22 PM UTC
I wish I lived in Wayne’s World,
where Wayne and Garth are real.
I wish I had Cassandra’s curls,
and her *** appeal.
I wish I dated Jason Dean,
and coloured him impressed.
I wish I had the killer gene,
but never ever confess.
I wish I went to Ashfield Hospital,
and looked a little on edge.
Explored shutter island in the spittle,
and made the Marshall pledge.
I wish I lived with Yeats,
or in the lonely moated grange,
I wish I danced on table tops,
my body for money, fair exchange.
I wish reality didn’t exist,
or better yet just me,
all those opportunities would be missed,
and at peace I’d finally be.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC
When I left him, I felt my void intimately. Learnt my way through its darkness with only my bare hands to guide me. It's unworldly creatures sought comfort in my throat but I was never created to be a shelter for the devils that reside in me.
I vowed never to be the darkness without realising that I too could be swallowed whole.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
(TW ****** abuse, suicide)
My body comes with a trigger warning,
to see me naked no longer
means the same thing.
I'm ugly. Scarred,
Both emotionally and physically.
I need help,
but I don't know how to reach out.
My voice has been silenced
by one too many men,
controlling, abusing, ruining.
Recently, the emotional pain I had been
rejecting when I remembered my ****
hit me all at once.
I couldn't breath, I couldn't see, I couldn't feel
anything except, well,
suddenly, the knot that never disappears from my chest
grew. Minutely at first, then it became more confident.
It knew it was taking over my body: my arms and legs and feet and fingers went paralytic, all I could hear was a ringing noise, raging in my ears.
Sometimes, I mix *** with death. Both seem like the ending to me. I'll fantasise about being dressed up for *** I'll slide downstairs and seductively choose my lover. I'll debate over men, women and everyone else in between and outside, but I know from the beginning which I'll choose. I'll slink over to the knives and select the biggest and baddest I own. I won't shake, I won't back down. I can feel it sliding between the layers of my skin as we speak now, I can feel my body weakening.
I'm so tired, my friends. I've spent so many years fighting back and now all I want to do is sleep, forever.
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC
Walking back home along the rim of the galaxy, the colours rip her body into an abyss, and her whole entirety spills from her guts.
The fears and terror that dare not haunt the day,
well, the brass of city lights taunt them to play
yet as the door shuts, the dread will always shrink away.
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
I think I'm falling in love.
Not the cute and pretty kind,
but the mean and gritty type that
you worry is going to last too long.
Will I end up missing your face?
Watch it fade as those memories dim.
There's a reason it's called falling
and not floating nor gliding.
God, I hate falling in love.
Isn't it so peculiarly terrifying?
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
When you ask about one,
people tend to answer with another.
For example:
When you ask somebody
about love,
they tell you about
heart break.
Of physical pain
released through cathartic tears
and
the thumping pitter in your chest whenever you next see
their face.
And when they ask about
my boyfriend
I speak loudly and proudly
of my girlfriend's soft lips
and her love that echoes
as though she had brought light
unto my very essence.
When they ask about
the feel of the earth,
they talk not of the
touch and feel and gritty
texture
but the damp, rotting
smell discretely placed
for you to oppose.
So tell me, friend,
if I were to ask:
Have you had a good day?
Would you answer with the
time your dearest made you
cry
with laughter,
or would you answer with
the void that ***** the
laughter away?
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
Dear David,
You tore your way through my life, leaving a devastation known only to a few. When you were done, you picked at my intimacies until I had nobody left. But I'm no longer afraid of the big bad wolf. This is my revenge.
1. I'd balance a gas light above your head and set it alight. When you go running to your friends about my torture they'd smell an unconfrontable unease that would turn them away.
2. I'd cut out your tongue and push my fist down your throat, my fingers indulging in the gushing scarlet, invading your warm insides until your breathing is cut off and I reach your voice box.
3. I'd yank it out, celebrating in your juices that run down my arm. Now, when you turn to your dearest, they will only see the fear in your eyes when they mention my name.
4. I'd carve lost trenches into your arms so that the reminder of our war could never be forgotten. There's a rare kind of memory that makes you ache for it to leave.
5. I'd etch the word 'love' onto the back of your throat and watch you choke on it. I'd hope that every time this happened, you would be reminded of me and the quirky ways I showed my affection.
6. I'd leave you squirming in pain for days on end, my back turned in silence as the shackles slowly embrace your body.
7. I'd decide that you had been punished enough and nurse you back into health, stitching your tongue back on in zig zagged attempts to apologise.
8. The next day, I'd slowly unpick the shallow stitches and start the whole process again.
9. I'd blame you for my actions. 'Baby it's your fault you make me do these things, you're just too irresistible ' I'd whisper seductively to you as my knife slips down to your groin.
10. I'd render you useless to the rest of the world, steal your thoughts with my kiss and blow them into the wind. The altered version of them would reach our friends before your voice did. The silence that echoed only added to the rumours.
11. I'd slip my knife sexily between your skin, opening up a hole so that your entire vulnerability would be glowing.
12. I'd empty the entirety of your guts onto the floor and smile as the gas light falls on to your slumpened body. A fire will erupt over it, burning the last shreds of hope as your lips will begin to melt. Gone are the mechanisms that may have led them to believe.
13. That night, I'd bathe in your guts, ********** over the feeling of power as your burnt corpse smoked nearby.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 7:18 AM UTC
Love spat in my face
Stomped me under his foot
Put me in my place
Stole away my youth
Love wore an angry mask
Laughed me to scorn
Took me to task
Kept me forlorn
Love robbed my innocence
Made my fire quench
Crushed my very essence
Made me a stench
Then, I really met Love
Who was good and true
He wore no masks
And didn't look like you
Then I knew!
It wasn't Love
Who hurt me bad
It wasn't Love
Who made me sad
**It wasn't Love
It was you.**
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC