welshshortbread - Hello Poetry

I am surviving only Through midnight dishwashing Submerging my amygdala in soapy water Trying to scrub it clean Listening to los campesinos! so I don’t have to hear the water rush Or taste the bubbles on my tongue- My life only makes sense with a soundtrack. But in all my favourite albums There’s a skip on the record I must have dropped a stitch somewhere in the fabric of my self-determination In the dam that would have stopped this flood of bitter glitter tears Maybe there’s something missing in the lining of my soul Because I’m happy. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. And yet there’s still the catch in my throat The lingering sense of not seeming like myself I’m shadowboxing my demons that are smaller than the mountains I’ve conquered And yet How do you **** a thing unseen? A thing that creeps on the edges of my vision In every blind spot I don’t know what I’m fighting so I don’t know how to fix it. I am surviving only Through midnight dishwashing And one way phone-call wishes to a god of self delusion And doubt Self-sabotaging from the inside out Relying on chip shop philosophy to get from one minute to the next And yet I don’t remember what you told me. It occurs to me That maybe my demons are dead And perhaps I am fighting Myself. The parts that don’t live up to the lies I tell to sell my soul to every passing stranger. You see, I know That there’s nothing to cry about; Or that there’s everything to cry about But it’s not the stuff I’d write poems about War and famine and plague oh disease This festering something that’s inside of me. Cut out a pound of rotting flesh to pay my debt to art Cut out every dead piece of me, cut out my failing heart.

0

May 15, 2019

May 15, 2019 at 1:10 PM UTC

My friends think I have secrets but won’t tell me what they are

I am surviving only Through midnight dishwashing Submerging my amygdala in soapy water Trying to scrub it clean Listening to los campesinos! so I don’t have to hear the water rush Or taste the bubbles on my tongue- My life only makes sense with a soundtrack. But in all my favourite albums There’s a skip on the record I must have dropped a stitch somewhere in the fabric of my self-determination In the dam that would have stopped this flood of bitter glitter tears Maybe there’s something missing in the lining of my soul Because I’m happy. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. And yet there’s still the catch in my throat The lingering sense of not seeming like myself I’m shadowboxing my demons that are smaller than the mountains I’ve conquered And yet How do you **** a thing unseen? A thing that creeps on the edges of my vision In every blind spot I don’t know what I’m fighting so I don’t know how to fix it. I am surviving only Through midnight dishwashing And one way phone-call wishes to a god of self delusion And doubt Self-sabotaging from the inside out Relying on chip shop philosophy to get from one minute to the next And yet I don’t remember what you told me. It occurs to me That maybe my demons are dead And perhaps I am fighting Myself. The parts that don’t live up to the lies I tell to sell my soul to every passing stranger. You see, I know That there’s nothing to cry about; Or that there’s everything to cry about But it’s not the stuff I’d write poems about War and famine and plague oh disease This festering something that’s inside of me. Cut out a pound of rotting flesh to pay my debt to art Cut out every dead piece of me, cut out my failing heart.

42

Candy Bubblegum girl, I think you deserve better. You're dating a man who acts like a child, Leaving a breadcrumb trail of missed calls until you're crying down the phone at work Leaking candy floss tears into the carpet. Far be it from me to impart my wisdom, There's only a few months between us But I've stopped pearlescent pear drops Forming on my cheeks Because no man is ever worth it, sugar. Vegan He told you drink no milk and eat no eggs Till your blood thinned out and your body starved Girl, you should know A man who tries to purify your body Is aiming to conquer holy ground Raining redemption on the promised land This is not the Crusades And he has no right to a single centimetre of you Your body is a temple of *** drugs and rock n roll It's a sin to cleanse it with kale. Sky You had a friend who painted you the colour of sunsets Bleeding, beautiful, bright Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Did it hurt when he shot you down? Was your daddy a thief because I swear he stole stars to put in your eyes And now that man wants them out Stardust in his pocket Leaving you dark and blind How do you tame the sky? By convincing you you're a wolf in sheeps clothing Dressed himself up as the victim, the lamb to the lion Ironed out the creases in his smile until he's a cloudless day And you're the monster in the depths. Scorpio Five foot ******* In love with the sound of his own voice With a flex of his pecs He tells you he just doesn't think you 'werk' You just don't seem to 'vibe' and with that jibe Strips the maturity from the situation until it's exposed enough to be instagrammable. You know what he's really like Round family a sweetheart, an old fashioned charmer Darling he's built himself a brand new armour A carapace And you may well get crabby sometimes But he's the one with the sting. Anxiety He’s sweet Really A pure soul with no ulterior goals in mind He likes you. And guys too, Which surprises you a little. Maybe it’s his unassuming posture The way he holds his head And the five o’clock shadow that creeps through till it’s gone midnight And he hasn’t messaged yet. He likes you Really But doesn’t have control over his tongue As it writhes inside the stranglehold the brain has put it under. He came to these studios to find a voice And found yours, lilting, Celtic with a northern twang Like the snapped string of a guitar. You talk to him about...everything And he tries to muster the words to keep up with your shine Finds solace in your bed but not your lips. He ends it over text With bitten nails stabbing the keys To lock your heart anew. New Rules Something about the hesitation in your smile says That you are used to living on a knife edge A bridge edge A cliff edge Anywhere he could push-pull you off Throw himself into churning depths so you'll come back to catch him But you're the ****** naturally Throw around the C-U-N Tea-sipping, words slipping from your mouth as we realise A shared history, of a sort. We've both felt the iron tang of blood As we bit our tongues against injustices railed against us Words and names buried so deep They cannot be plucked out like the splintered praise of friends. You say You'd take him back in a heartbeat, But all you're missing is an echo chamber A sounding board for your own atrioventricular system Hidden behind your lungs Is all the love that you could give. Share it with the world. Share it with yourself. And don't pick up the phone.

0

Mar 28, 2019

Mar 28, 2019 at 11:20 PM UTC

Cell Block Sextet

Candy Bubblegum girl, I think you deserve better. You're dating a man who acts like a child, Leaving a breadcrumb trail of missed calls until you're crying down the phone at work Leaking candy floss tears into the carpet. Far be it from me to impart my wisdom, There's only a few months between us But I've stopped pearlescent pear drops Forming on my cheeks Because no man is ever worth it, sugar. Vegan He told you drink no milk and eat no eggs Till your blood thinned out and your body starved Girl, you should know A man who tries to purify your body Is aiming to conquer holy ground Raining redemption on the promised land This is not the Crusades And he has no right to a single centimetre of you Your body is a temple of *** drugs and rock n roll It's a sin to cleanse it with kale. Sky You had a friend who painted you the colour of sunsets Bleeding, beautiful, bright Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Did it hurt when he shot you down? Was your daddy a thief because I swear he stole stars to put in your eyes And now that man wants them out Stardust in his pocket Leaving you dark and blind How do you tame the sky? By convincing you you're a wolf in sheeps clothing Dressed himself up as the victim, the lamb to the lion Ironed out the creases in his smile until he's a cloudless day And you're the monster in the depths. Scorpio Five foot ******* In love with the sound of his own voice With a flex of his pecs He tells you he just doesn't think you 'werk' You just don't seem to 'vibe' and with that jibe Strips the maturity from the situation until it's exposed enough to be instagrammable. You know what he's really like Round family a sweetheart, an old fashioned charmer Darling he's built himself a brand new armour A carapace And you may well get crabby sometimes But he's the one with the sting. Anxiety He’s sweet Really A pure soul with no ulterior goals in mind He likes you. And guys too, Which surprises you a little. Maybe it’s his unassuming posture The way he holds his head And the five o’clock shadow that creeps through till it’s gone midnight And he hasn’t messaged yet. He likes you Really But doesn’t have control over his tongue As it writhes inside the stranglehold the brain has put it under. He came to these studios to find a voice And found yours, lilting, Celtic with a northern twang Like the snapped string of a guitar. You talk to him about...everything And he tries to muster the words to keep up with your shine Finds solace in your bed but not your lips. He ends it over text With bitten nails stabbing the keys To lock your heart anew. New Rules Something about the hesitation in your smile says That you are used to living on a knife edge A bridge edge A cliff edge Anywhere he could push-pull you off Throw himself into churning depths so you'll come back to catch him But you're the ****** naturally Throw around the C-U-N Tea-sipping, words slipping from your mouth as we realise A shared history, of a sort. We've both felt the iron tang of blood As we bit our tongues against injustices railed against us Words and names buried so deep They cannot be plucked out like the splintered praise of friends. You say You'd take him back in a heartbeat, But all you're missing is an echo chamber A sounding board for your own atrioventricular system Hidden behind your lungs Is all the love that you could give. Share it with the world. Share it with yourself. And don't pick up the phone.

95

Steel yourself for the inevitable surprise New ties knotting round your neck till you choke Go for broken hearted again Go for finished unstarted again Fall in love for the feeling of falling from infinite heights The rush of death grabbing at your clothes like a desperate lover trying to take you in. The air wrapping round your limbs For a moment you are Suspended Frozen in a fantasy: A collage of red eyes and tendrils of smoke, the smell of fresh rain, resonating harmonies, the fretting curl of a tongue around a barbed remark, and now this- **** shirts and shadows This feels like remembering a dream when you fall out of sleep Chasing through fog Stumbling through memories of feeling like I wasn’t worth your time That all I could aspire to was sunflower following you Turning east to west But feeling rooted to the spot All tongue and talent lost In the shadow of your apathy. This feels less like fate And more like I’m butterfly-catching Sticking pins through anything beautiful Trying to understand what makes it soar unaided for so long And killing it in the process. Other times, I am the butterfly, Catching light until I’m trapped My affection becomes a museum for you To bring your children into, someday. Because nothing can stop my descent I am not iridescent to all of you And maybe I know that Maybe that’s why I choose you The safety of a glass window to hide behind And the familiar crunch and snap of bones As I hit the rocks beneath.

0

Sep 18, 2018

Sep 18, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC

A love letter to my distractions, requited or otherwise

Steel yourself for the inevitable surprise New ties knotting round your neck till you choke Go for broken hearted again Go for finished unstarted again Fall in love for the feeling of falling from infinite heights The rush of death grabbing at your clothes like a desperate lover trying to take you in. The air wrapping round your limbs For a moment you are Suspended Frozen in a fantasy: A collage of red eyes and tendrils of smoke, the smell of fresh rain, resonating harmonies, the fretting curl of a tongue around a barbed remark, and now this- **** shirts and shadows This feels like remembering a dream when you fall out of sleep Chasing through fog Stumbling through memories of feeling like I wasn’t worth your time That all I could aspire to was sunflower following you Turning east to west But feeling rooted to the spot All tongue and talent lost In the shadow of your apathy. This feels less like fate And more like I’m butterfly-catching Sticking pins through anything beautiful Trying to understand what makes it soar unaided for so long And killing it in the process. Other times, I am the butterfly, Catching light until I’m trapped My affection becomes a museum for you To bring your children into, someday. Because nothing can stop my descent I am not iridescent to all of you And maybe I know that Maybe that’s why I choose you The safety of a glass window to hide behind And the familiar crunch and snap of bones As I hit the rocks beneath.

35

We sit in your car With the sun shining through And take a moment To just Breathe. Through the peach-fuzz pink Of the interior of my eyelids I can feel you watching me, Your gaze as warm and lingering As the rays of sunlight softly caressing my skin, I imagine you tracing a pattern in your mind, Following the gentle flutterings of my eyelids Exploring the soft shape of my face Watching the gentle susurration of my breath pooling from just-parted lips Tracking the ridges of my collarbones On marble white skin. I can feel you watching me And it makes me so overjoyed Because I missed this This thing that is not quite yet but a little akin to love. A moment of self doubt Flickers in my field of vision- What if I am wrong? What if you do not feel this way And I am stuck In this idyllic peach-pink cherry-blossom fantasy of my own creation? So I unshut my eyelids Unstop time And through the bluish haze Of the suns rays I find Your eyes On mine.

0

Apr 8, 2018

Apr 8, 2018 at 11:09 AM UTC

Standstill

We sit in your car With the sun shining through And take a moment To just Breathe. Through the peach-fuzz pink Of the interior of my eyelids I can feel you watching me, Your gaze as warm and lingering As the rays of sunlight softly caressing my skin, I imagine you tracing a pattern in your mind, Following the gentle flutterings of my eyelids Exploring the soft shape of my face Watching the gentle susurration of my breath pooling from just-parted lips Tracking the ridges of my collarbones On marble white skin. I can feel you watching me And it makes me so overjoyed Because I missed this This thing that is not quite yet but a little akin to love. A moment of self doubt Flickers in my field of vision- What if I am wrong? What if you do not feel this way And I am stuck In this idyllic peach-pink cherry-blossom fantasy of my own creation? So I unshut my eyelids Unstop time And through the bluish haze Of the suns rays I find Your eyes On mine.

34

At night, When nothing could save me from my head, I opened my eyes to see the night sky Eery green glow on world weary white Why do they always have pentagram points Enlarged or minuscule, like prism cutouts Windows to the world above? If you concentrate, You can plot the lines between them Like the Greeks and Romans did, Fathers and children of all mankind. This bedroom was a blank canvas for a child's hands To find and mark different constellations Her own legends Her own mythos Monsters and fairies, princes and kings. When she looks up at the ceiling, She can see our myths Etched in the spaces between the pools of light Intangible to most, perhaps, Felt across a breach The dark span of country roads and motorways Train tracks tracing patterns on skin And sometimes on the darkest nights I can see nothing but stars And can't make out the shape of your face This isn't a simple science. Love, Sometimes my light does not seem to bridge the gap Sometimes yours seems faint, too, But we both burn holes in the cracked plaster Some days, this is the easiest thing in the world On others, we might as well be light years apart. That little girl still looks though Spread eagled on a ballerina duvet, she still smiles Watching the lights shift Playing dot-to-dot with fate Until she gently falls asleep Dreaming of castles she has yet to see And princes she has yet to meet.

0

Feb 11, 2018

Feb 11, 2018 at 5:22 AM UTC

Sticker Constellations

At night, When nothing could save me from my head, I opened my eyes to see the night sky Eery green glow on world weary white Why do they always have pentagram points Enlarged or minuscule, like prism cutouts Windows to the world above? If you concentrate, You can plot the lines between them Like the Greeks and Romans did, Fathers and children of all mankind. This bedroom was a blank canvas for a child's hands To find and mark different constellations Her own legends Her own mythos Monsters and fairies, princes and kings. When she looks up at the ceiling, She can see our myths Etched in the spaces between the pools of light Intangible to most, perhaps, Felt across a breach The dark span of country roads and motorways Train tracks tracing patterns on skin And sometimes on the darkest nights I can see nothing but stars And can't make out the shape of your face This isn't a simple science. Love, Sometimes my light does not seem to bridge the gap Sometimes yours seems faint, too, But we both burn holes in the cracked plaster Some days, this is the easiest thing in the world On others, we might as well be light years apart. That little girl still looks though Spread eagled on a ballerina duvet, she still smiles Watching the lights shift Playing dot-to-dot with fate Until she gently falls asleep Dreaming of castles she has yet to see And princes she has yet to meet.

40

Alabaster boy Unlearn the things they have told you Harsh lips and uncaring smiles The ones who hated you And the lips That were supposed To love Alabaster boy I want to untie the stitches Of the scars on your left arm Those crimson red slashed grins Taunting you Mocking you I cannot heal them But I can drown out their cries Alabaster boy You are so beautiful Carved from marble Soft as snow Warm as laughter Alabaster boy Let me undo the damage From years ago Let me kiss every inch Of your beautiful skin Let me heal With kind lips And soft eyes- Alabaster boy I will treat you With the reverence you deserve Until you can look in the mirror And see your beauty painted whole.

0

Jan 28, 2018

Jan 28, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC

Alabaster Boy

Alabaster boy Unlearn the things they have told you Harsh lips and uncaring smiles The ones who hated you And the lips That were supposed To love Alabaster boy I want to untie the stitches Of the scars on your left arm Those crimson red slashed grins Taunting you Mocking you I cannot heal them But I can drown out their cries Alabaster boy You are so beautiful Carved from marble Soft as snow Warm as laughter Alabaster boy Let me undo the damage From years ago Let me kiss every inch Of your beautiful skin Let me heal With kind lips And soft eyes- Alabaster boy I will treat you With the reverence you deserve Until you can look in the mirror And see your beauty painted whole.

33

I have a hole Inside my chest I slowly fill it up. With laughter With inside jokes With love With positivity posts. Something heals. Like puzzle pieces slotting, I am home.

0

Jan 21, 2018

Jan 21, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC

Tuesday.

I have a hole Inside my chest I slowly fill it up. With laughter With inside jokes With love With positivity posts. Something heals. Like puzzle pieces slotting, I am home.

10

I have a hole Inside my chest I try to fill it up. With voice With words With love With dodie tickets. Nothing sticks. Like glitter in the wound, I bleed out.

0

Jan 20, 2018

Jan 20, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC

Morning.

I have a hole Inside my chest I try to fill it up. With voice With words With love With dodie tickets. Nothing sticks. Like glitter in the wound, I bleed out.

10

I wonder how they do it Those immaculate girls With butterscotch hair and honeyed smiles So sleek and streamlined, So very contained Gliding through life without a care, They are the definition of grace. My life is more haphazard My room a bomb site of to do lists My hair wild and frazzled My shirt untucked And my eyes bright- Not good bright, though, Not sweet sunlight bright, Feverish, they dart with static- My hands pirouette through the air My teeth slightly crooked but smiling broadly Dark circles under my eyes And a liberal spray of spots on my face Because who has time for face paint When the mornings are reserved for catching up on the sleep you lost Exploring the universe in your mind? My words from my poems to my texts Are long unending sentences And stop-starts Littered with exclamations!! And I swear I'm articulate This explosion you're hearing is vomited onto a page A direct translation for a brain that flits and stumbles over itself I beg of you to like me My laughter bursts into your personal space And I do too I always get too close- I come on too strong, apparently I love too much, too hard and too fast I fall far too easily and break my own heart And drive people away Because I'm not aloof or cool or distant There's no thrill of the chase with me Just honesty And an eagerness to please. I lurch between seeing these As my most wonderful assets And my greatest downfalls. But **** you If you are one of the people who has made me believe the latter Sure, I can be intense Sure, I can be hard to love But you have never known loyalty like mine. Never will you find such passion and intensity And that's a ******* good thing, you hear me? That's a good thing. I am vibrant and alive Where you see cloudy days I can find a kaleidoscope of colour My energy comes not from coffee But from this white-hot centre of my heart This supernova colour-clashing burnout explosion of me. And it's a ******* honour To stand in my presence And feel my warmth.

0

Jan 7, 2018

Jan 7, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC

Haphazard

I wonder how they do it Those immaculate girls With butterscotch hair and honeyed smiles So sleek and streamlined, So very contained Gliding through life without a care, They are the definition of grace. My life is more haphazard My room a bomb site of to do lists My hair wild and frazzled My shirt untucked And my eyes bright- Not good bright, though, Not sweet sunlight bright, Feverish, they dart with static- My hands pirouette through the air My teeth slightly crooked but smiling broadly Dark circles under my eyes And a liberal spray of spots on my face Because who has time for face paint When the mornings are reserved for catching up on the sleep you lost Exploring the universe in your mind? My words from my poems to my texts Are long unending sentences And stop-starts Littered with exclamations!! And I swear I'm articulate This explosion you're hearing is vomited onto a page A direct translation for a brain that flits and stumbles over itself I beg of you to like me My laughter bursts into your personal space And I do too I always get too close- I come on too strong, apparently I love too much, too hard and too fast I fall far too easily and break my own heart And drive people away Because I'm not aloof or cool or distant There's no thrill of the chase with me Just honesty And an eagerness to please. I lurch between seeing these As my most wonderful assets And my greatest downfalls. But **** you If you are one of the people who has made me believe the latter Sure, I can be intense Sure, I can be hard to love But you have never known loyalty like mine. Never will you find such passion and intensity And that's a ******* good thing, you hear me? That's a good thing. I am vibrant and alive Where you see cloudy days I can find a kaleidoscope of colour My energy comes not from coffee But from this white-hot centre of my heart This supernova colour-clashing burnout explosion of me. And it's a ******* honour To stand in my presence And feel my warmth.

61

Faulty factory toys are fun to use, at first Blue eyed girl with the white blonde curls From dads side of the family They coo at her Before she learns to walk And talk And talk And talk When they built her in the baby factory They must've forgot the little red button The one that says "Shut up for one single solitary ******* second and let someone else speak" She doesn't pause to allow the other person the liberty to flit words through the air like songbirds Instead hers land like pheasants Shot in the skull Trickling out opinions that were never asked for With the brain fluid. She's got a lot of them too Opinions And they're all right She knows everything there is to know At seventeen as well What a prodigy, she thinks What a nuisance, say the wise men What a delusional idiot What A Bore into her skull and all you'll see Behind the kind eyes and philosophy Is a witch Entranced by the enchantment Of her own voice A selfish piece of **** Who buys her birthday presents at the last minute. At least the parents got to have a test drive A prototype So they knew what to do right this time Factor out whatever it was The ingredients with the sell by date That made this thing so near to right But odd enough to be 'not quite'. This time make one that's not lazy That's not selfish That doesn't want to be a ******* artist That lets others speak That can contribute and participate Not sit on the sidelines Heading for burnout Heading for disaster- Uncheck the box this time that says Sordid mind That says Can't reply to texts Even when friends are on the edge of suicide, For ***** sake. Tick the box that unveils the beauty of humanity Fix it's eyes Teach her to see these sacks of meat The way others do The way you're supposed to Instead of like puzzles or pictures or packaging for a soul Create a person not afraid Of making mistakes that can make her own decisions This time make a mind That can jump through the hoops Society left behind Fix her this time Don't make another freak On the fringes Never quite fitting in And the funny thing is Even after this ******* perfect kid Comes along and shows that blue eyed blonde-haired girl Just how to do it She's an old ***** No use teaching her new tricks She'll shut out little miss pretty perfect project two point oh She can't seem to help it She thinks the best company in the world is her head Her head?! Have you seen it It's barbed wire and sunshine It’s a rose choked by thorns Do not touch her- She will make you bleed.

0

Dec 10, 2017

Dec 10, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC

Faulty

Faulty factory toys are fun to use, at first Blue eyed girl with the white blonde curls From dads side of the family They coo at her Before she learns to walk And talk And talk And talk When they built her in the baby factory They must've forgot the little red button The one that says "Shut up for one single solitary ******* second and let someone else speak" She doesn't pause to allow the other person the liberty to flit words through the air like songbirds Instead hers land like pheasants Shot in the skull Trickling out opinions that were never asked for With the brain fluid. She's got a lot of them too Opinions And they're all right She knows everything there is to know At seventeen as well What a prodigy, she thinks What a nuisance, say the wise men What a delusional idiot What A Bore into her skull and all you'll see Behind the kind eyes and philosophy Is a witch Entranced by the enchantment Of her own voice A selfish piece of **** Who buys her birthday presents at the last minute. At least the parents got to have a test drive A prototype So they knew what to do right this time Factor out whatever it was The ingredients with the sell by date That made this thing so near to right But odd enough to be 'not quite'. This time make one that's not lazy That's not selfish That doesn't want to be a ******* artist That lets others speak That can contribute and participate Not sit on the sidelines Heading for burnout Heading for disaster- Uncheck the box this time that says Sordid mind That says Can't reply to texts Even when friends are on the edge of suicide, For ***** sake. Tick the box that unveils the beauty of humanity Fix it's eyes Teach her to see these sacks of meat The way others do The way you're supposed to Instead of like puzzles or pictures or packaging for a soul Create a person not afraid Of making mistakes that can make her own decisions This time make a mind That can jump through the hoops Society left behind Fix her this time Don't make another freak On the fringes Never quite fitting in And the funny thing is Even after this ******* perfect kid Comes along and shows that blue eyed blonde-haired girl Just how to do it She's an old ***** No use teaching her new tricks She'll shut out little miss pretty perfect project two point oh She can't seem to help it She thinks the best company in the world is her head Her head?! Have you seen it It's barbed wire and sunshine It’s a rose choked by thorns Do not touch her- She will make you bleed.

85