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Dec 2019 · 159
Pin
Bragi Dec 2019
Pin
Happiness is a pin
Put in what you took out of love.
But love lasts only
as long as the loading
Of hope;
A bullet in a gun that never goes off.
The gun goes numb in your hand
‘Till you remember the aim,
Picking up the pin it points you back and
Sails you insane.
As an ocean ripples, Love loops,
all from a pin in something you took.
It’s been a while since I wrote. Hope all are well x
Nov 2018 · 381
Flash
Bragi Nov 2018
Time flys by
It was when I was born
That my life flashed before
My eyes.
Nov 2018 · 387
When I See Your Face
Bragi Nov 2018
When I see your face
I giggle a little
Tripping a little
Over my inhibitions
Fidgeting a little
Fleeting figuratively from
These feelings I feel
When I see your face
Taking me to places
I wish I’d always have been,
Seen in the mistakes I’ve made
That took me here and made
This moment with you.
Safety and truth
Things I can share;
Things that grew
From a part of me where
I’d hidden what I knew.
Now you know and this new
Twist in my heartstrings
Brings me to think
My happiness is linked
To
When I see your face.
Nov 2018 · 216
The Raven
Bragi Nov 2018
Raven black hair
And a quality about you that tastes
As dark.
Bitter sweet.
Something’s hidden from this story’s ark
And I wonder if I should quit
But your green eyes hold me down like
Chains under deep sea water and I let
Them drown
Me.
I’m afraid of you.
I don’t know you.
But I know how I feel when I’m near you
And like a raven caught against the moon
Nothing can stop the shadow you cast on
Me.
Oct 2018 · 228
Prometheus
Bragi Oct 2018
I was so in love
With what we had made
That any sense of sufferance
Of punishment
For my actions
Became an utterance, stayed.
Lost in my satisfaction that
I had given you something far lighter;
I was so in love,
Stolen, a divine fire,
Like Prometheus.
Oct 2018 · 577
The Girl and The Tree
Bragi Oct 2018
In the sea
There is a tree
It’s roots they stretch a thousand leagues
It’s branches reach up oh so high
They go so far as to touch the sky

The tree was said never to be named.
For centuries, deliberately some would say,
it kept all people in the world at bay
But the gods had promised there to be a day
The most deserving of children would find a way
And climb the tree to find treasures array
..if only one monster the youth could slay.

In a sadly lit room a little girl cried.
The ring she had given her before she had died
was all that was left of the happy past life
Her mother had spent with her there by her side.
Her mother long gone and the ring not in sight,
The little girl wailed but would sneak out that night.

She knew where it was, her cruel aunt had thrown it;
‘Come now’ she said ‘I think you’ve outgrown this’.
It fell at a place where all were forbid,
under sea waves was where it now hid.

She found the place
She made no mistake.
Before jumping in the little girl braced
A rush of water had hit her face
A brand new feeling she had to intake
But the water now returned a warming embrace.
It helped the girl and showed her the way.

She must have been swimming for more than nine hours
Her legs were so tired, but she was no coward.
She could see shapes ahead, she screamed and she shouted
But no one replied, no alarm had been sounded.
So the little girl swam... and soon she was grounded.

The shapes were giant roots, bigger than buildings
Huge, unbelievable, bewildering, tall things
Then she realised, on one was she standing
And when she looked up, she noticed she was climbing.
At the top, she knew, she felt a strange feeling,
The ring would be there, she could see it, waiting.

She reached the top
Her heart had stopped
A golden garden with birdsong, soft.
The gardens heart held a door, locked.
But the way to the key appeared to be blocked.
Blocked by a horrible, familiar aunt.

The aunt ran at the girl, in big scary strides
But the girl was not afraid, no more would she hide.
She stood on the edge, her heart as her guide.
And waited for the moment they both would collide...

Off the edge they fell
The girl said ‘farewell,
To my mum where all is well’.
She closed her eyes as the demon aunt yelled.
At then at that moment her mum’s voice broke the spell
‘One more push to be happy, one more my big girl’.

She opened her eyes and felt the wind rush
She kicked off the aunt with one final push.
The girl only just missed one of the trees roots.
The monster was slain, you could hear the yells hush.
The girl landed safely in the waters warm touch.
And now a small key in her hands did she clutch.

She climbed once more
And unlocked the door
Where beyond was lain the most wonderous of hordes
Treasures beyond what all life has explored.
But the little girl walked on so swiftly past it all
Until she had found what her heart was there looking for.

The Gods came down and congratulated her
‘But you must take more! It is what you have earned!
You completed this feat, you should take what’s deserved!’
But the girl just smiled and with this thank you she turned

I just want the ring
And memories to keep
Of my mother always.
To help me to sleep.
You Gods are kind
But my mother you can’t give
So let me go home with this most precious of gifts.

And with that
the girl found herself back
In a dimly lit room with a ring in her hand.
But in the morning when she got up to stand
She found herself smiling at a rather strange sound.
It wasn’t her aunt yelling, or screaming a demand,
But asking if she liked yolks runny
or if she preferred them when hard...
Oct 2018 · 205
A Candle Without Wax
Bragi Oct 2018
My flame burns bright
Like lighting,
Thundering loud cracks,
But Without you
I’m as a candle
Without wax.
Oct 2018 · 182
Hindsight
Bragi Oct 2018
Don’t go
I said
When I should have left.

Don’t leave me
I begged
I wished I’d run instead.

We can make this work
I pleaded
But for too long was I bleeding.

One more chance
I asked
But it was air I could breathe at last.

You are my everything
I thought
But to you that meant naught.

Take me back
I mumbled
Pathetic in desperation, I stumbled.

Why are you doing this?
I cried
When you said I had to know why.

You don’t want me.
I froze.
...to an end that ended all of my woes.
Oct 2018 · 241
Nine Names in Time
Bragi Oct 2018
2018 - I see you smiling at me while we’re watching a play. I get this feeling I’ll never know your name.
1918 - Returning home from war to find you with another man. A story in a story, a sadness in the sad...
1818 - Now I’m a Frankenstein tormented by a monster.
1718 - I arrive in a New Orleans where soon I forgot her.
1618 - The execution of one of the greatest explorers makes my heart afraid to find a new lover.
1518 - I’m in Italy now admiring a Michelangelo, passions are burning and you’re my new antidote.
1418 - In Florence there’s talks of a new cathedral, competition in design yet to you there’s no equal.
1318 - From the English the Scottish fight for independence but I would sell my soul just to be in her presence.
1218 - From Acre I leave for Egypt, a crusade of the soul, but I gave that to you not too long ago.
1118 - A new pope on the throne holding a king like he’s owned but you’re a free spirit and your name... I won’t know...
Oct 2018 · 364
Tip
Bragi Oct 2018
Tip
I don’t want to remember you.
I want you to have a place on the
Tip of my Tongue.
Like I do on yours.
Oct 2018 · 2.4k
Lavender
Bragi Oct 2018
Memories traveller.
I remember when I was younger and my mother would sneak into my room with a handful of secrets, revealing them to be flowers. Lavender. She said it was to help the sleepless, and that I was. Restless from the monsters under my bed she’d sing me songs, the scent and tingles she’d sent streaming up my spine were seamless, one melting into the other. She’d tuck me in cozily and I’d noticed the smell of a light purple colour that she’d crushed into my palm, a mortar, her soft fingers the pestle. So when the years went by and our time grew shorter, with the linear layout of these memories would I wrestle as I’d strain to remember what our time together was like before you passed finally one last, lost, dreary November. Then one day, as the rain fell outside our house the bushes it struck were made of lavender and I felt like I had been saved, because once again I’d found you.
Oct 2018 · 1.4k
Leaves
Bragi Oct 2018
Again.
You leave.
Leaving me lifeless.
Life’s lessons are learned
Like this.
Through crisis.
Through hurt,
Through grief.
Heartbreaks make a survivalist.
Burnt out from the time I was
Seventeen;
Burst,
My heart has been set out for all to see;
Plainly strung up in pieces,
Like leaves
Hanging
Precariously on a tree,
Made from the bones and ashes of lovers
I’d never meet,
Each new year bringing a wind that rips
them from their branches,
A wind that dances through my memory.
This year it was you.
Turning me golden like maple leaves in
autumn my mind’s marked me as a dying
season.
And you,
You treated me like a poison.
Times testaments teach
To forgive
...Within reason.
You were a part of me
And I committed treason.
Oct 2018 · 162
Too Late
Bragi Oct 2018
I’m always too late.
As I open a new door and hope beyond hope that you will be there with an outstretched hand to grasp, to lead me to love and a lifetime of calm and content, I find it there, still held out yet recently gripped. Slipped out of my reach and into the path of another, luckier, funnier, happier, leaving me the lonelier, once more, contemplating how I missed my chance and if I’d have arrived sooner, unrealistically, and stolen you away in a merry chase, fate would have been kinder. But none but me could have been blinder, still lingering on what could have been and leaning hopefully to a truth that will never be. Us. Thus time is finicky, a whirlpool of whispering questions teaching valuable lessons that no one hears until you arrive at the moment you’re in now and already it’s gone and you forget how you got there and what went wrong. But while I’m gone, wondering the reasonings and all it brings, not everything stayed the same. I weighed my wait. I’m always too late.
Oct 2018 · 378
Let Me Grow Young
Bragi Oct 2018
Let me grow young
I want to remember what it’s like
To find the playfulness
I’d hide,
To find the fullness
In my life.
To count to one two nine six five.

Let me grow young
I want to jump on trampolines
And buy all flavours of ice-creams
To imagine what it’s like to fly
When lava’s on my floors at night.

Let me grow young
Don’t let me forget what I have done,
Don’t let me grow cold to the fun
Or stop me singing songs I’ve sung.

Let me grow young.
Let me keep all my silly sides,
Remind myself at least I tried
To work beside the adult kids
For I don’t know how many years.

Let me grow young.
Being a grown up is just dumb.
Bragi Oct 2018
He smiled a smile I forgot existed.
A child grinning like the sun had risen for the first time and the shimmers and glimmers of a shining haze which might have been stalactite-like light, bouncing off the walls in rays, reflected all the joy of the world back into his puppy dog eyes. Wise to their existence before their time, typically to be lost again when falling in line with what society tells them to be. A crime to see but it happened to me, to you, and yet this little smiler chewed away at my heart until all that was left was a pulsing goo used to spark the ignition to an engine that motored my mind into gear saying ‘wonder. Wonder is a beautiful thing’ and I knew then that I had found my Neverland. And all the while thought it would never land so clearly, right there, in a child’s smile. So sincerely.
Oct 2018 · 806
OK
Bragi Oct 2018
OK
Tonight was nice
Not splendid
Not great
Just nice
I guess
We underestimate
The word ‘ok’.
Everyone makes it a competition
To be better,
A description of
‘Not the same’,
But I’m doing alright
After today.
No prescription.
I felt fine.
No assistance
To make each breath mine.
I make my own way.
I cary on through.
So don’t make me say
My time was spent better than you.
I’m allowed a simple ‘ok’
And you are too.
Oct 2018 · 310
It
Bragi Oct 2018
It
Be better than all of it.

It’s only a few letters after all.
Oct 2018 · 267
Breath
Bragi Oct 2018
My breath does breathe.
A breath of fresh air makes me see
All the little things that could be
Breathing heavily at the thought of
possibility and I choke.
Forgetting the sentence I wrote;
Cutting you out of my life
Like oxygen from my windpipe,
Removing all evidence with precision,
A decision I was forced to make
Else we’d both break
So I took what little of my heart I had left
And I left.

I thought it for the best
But now I can’t breathe breath
As thoughts of you have yet
To leave my head.
Oct 2018 · 157
Stillness
Oct 2018 · 148
Tale
Bragi Oct 2018
Three letters
That together
Make
A beginning
A middle
An end

You
Oct 2018 · 100
Sweeter
Bragi Oct 2018
Sometimes shorter is sweeter.

Just like me and you.
Oct 2018 · 664
Somewhere
Bragi Oct 2018
Loving you was like I jumped on a train at the last second; the doors sliding behind me and I almost missed it, the carriage that held you. As I took a seat I noticed you there, sat reading a book, holding a sweet smile across rose tinted cheeks, the glasses you wear hanging tightly atop your nose. I never want to leave. I stop, start staring like an idiot and its obvious how I feel, but you haven’t noticed my existence. The book is written by someone who stole your heart and even though I hope you finish it before my stop I know you can’t. I just wish you’d have looked up. Just once, at me. I wish you’d have seen what I’d seen looking at you one last time as I stepped off the carriage and onto a platform that lead somewhere you would never know. Somewhere we would never be.
Sep 2018 · 178
Like My Life
Bragi Sep 2018
You see, I write but no one listens
And it’s hard
In a world where so many do.
So many express.
Depress.
Not because they feel the world needs to understand them
Not because they throw a blanket of empathy around them
Not because the real world doesn’t appreciate their detail
But because it’s all a get rich quick scheme.
A sale.
But I don’t care for nepotism.
I don’t care if you’re waiting for me to like your ‘quirks’.
I don’t care that if I don’t you won’t like mine.
Because that’s how it works.
A trade.
A shame.
Someone always ‘sacrificing’ by being the first in the game of it
But that’s not a sacrifice
The sacrifice is not caring.
Liking something because you like it
Living life because that’s what you want to do with it
Freely sharing
Being a good person for no benefit.
Not out of fear that others won’t give you what you need.
Not out of fear it won’t let you be what you want to be.
Happiness is not found in the wants or greeds of others
But in listening to your own heart
And knowing
Deep down
What you do for you is all that matters.
Then when you’re loved by people for your truth
There is nothing better.

So be a good person
Listen to this work
Like it
Please
Because if you don’t
I doubt I’ll like yours
This poem shows the hypocritical nature of society and ourselves. I don’t even know if I can trust myself with what I’ve written, but at least it points something out.
Sep 2018 · 284
Bragi Sep 2018
Perfection is a competition.

Imperfection is a story.
Sep 2018 · 1.5k
Ragnarök
Bragi Sep 2018
Like a hammer that’s too short.
Like a wall that feels lacking.
Like a land of giants, vanished.
Like a god among gods who aren’t your own.
Perfect in an imperfect world or

imperfect in a perfect world;
your imperfection shown.

Yggdrasil overgrown and all the options leave you empty.
At first nine worlds seem plenty
but soon you hope for twenty,
finding no treasures tempting.
Your desires in the waters 

of three holy wells reflecting
a thing that seems calm and collected:
an ending to the ending;
soft but not,

like a pillow made of rock,
you rest your head upon
the thought of Ragnarök.
Aug 2018 · 759
Vincent
Bragi Aug 2018
A Story of guilt.
Not for him, for us.
Vincent.

Strokes and flicks,
Glides of guilded golds
Hushed in the Blues,
Innocence in the Greens;
Boldly infused oils
Spilling out on a canvas;
A legacy built on
Sorrow. Toil. Turmoil.
Who with dark indents on a page shaded in
Shadows showed
Work. Work, work,
Constant work.
A Starry Night’s muse.
All the while cowards saying they always
Knew,
Always loved,
Always loving
Vincent.
Aug 2018 · 352
Smoke and Mirrors
Bragi Aug 2018
I inhale the dark mist of self sodomising reflections like it were the sweet smell of nostalgia; Lavender on my pillow playing soft symphonies of content. This is no longer a reality but can be re-lived through memories, through a silver-lined portal of pretend; the face staring back at me, I know, is a devise; all fogged by want. This is the face I choose, the one I wear today. It may change, but for now, like a magic trick, smoke and mirrors guard me and my secrets.
Aug 2018 · 1.8k
Ignorance
Bragi Aug 2018
Ignorance is bliss;
Sweeter than any kiss.
It’s an unfair kind of careless care.
This idea of something you missed,
Where?
A tear which never needed to be known,
There. In the mirror. Wipe away the smudges and it becomes visible,
Clearer. Shown in a smile that some would call naive. But you don’t because Ignorance is richer.
Your ears burn bright but you believe all is well, that all is right, so you continue your life like a phone in a theatre. Beating on the drum of negligence, perfectly pitching yourself as a heedless, harmonious heap; inauspiciously and ironically thinking ones self, misguidedly, meticulous. Inadvertently beautiful.
Ignorance is bliss.
Jul 2018 · 318
Something You Don’t Know
Bragi Jul 2018
There’s something about be you don’t know.
What?
You can’t quite put your finger on it.
There’s a part of me that’s drifted away
Like a cool breeze on a summers day.
Two points with distance growing between,
Slow,
Safe,
Shifting through time and
Both needed space from this place
So I disconnected the fuse and the spark went with it. Fizzled.
I hid it where you can’t see it, out of sight of your hand held screen. Visiting you with a tap but we both know there’s more than that, more than this coding and updated status, facts we can’t see behind these boxes of light. Facts like you and me and what I wanted us to be but now it seems I was as real as a dream.
This nightmare.
This nightmarish grief without you leans on me like a leach, feeding on this thing, this thing between you and me.
‘What ‘thing’?’
‘What do I mean?’
What am I saying?
Feeling like there’s something about me you don’t know?
What?
Hm. I guess you just can’t put your finger on it.
Jul 2018 · 268
Chime
Bragi Jul 2018
A chime calls like bells lost in wishing wells,
scattered deep in valleys or lost in snowy mountains it dwells.
Sounds that paint the thick colour of nostalgia for a time you lost and never had;
having lost yourself in a fog of static,
glad that thoughts would freeze for a moment like ripples on a dark lake;
the moon reflecting years of torture, tormented, teased by ghosts of those gone
a long long long time ago. Tragic
of corse
but I dare say
you were just as much to blame
as a wishing well chime
or ripples on a lake.
Bragi Jul 2018
On the Wednesday night of my birthday
I noticed how I’d been thinking of you lately
On the Wednesday night of my birthday
I missed that lost promise of a maybe

Not a ‘promise’, you wouldn’t have said so,
Not an ‘oath’ that I’m pretending you swore,
It was a hope that I’d been waiting for.
The maybe that maybe we were more

But more than what? you’d say
More that friends? ‘That’s all it was, the only way’
Left with a sour denial to taste
After all the time together we’d waste.
Wasted if we were nothing that great
But we were and you were my soul..
Mistake?
Too late to differentiate

Gone
Lost with time
Go
Ghost
From my mind
On the Wednesday night of my birthday
Things have started going a little hazy
On the Wednesday night of my birthday
My memory of you is slowly fading

I’m going crazy. It’s something I’d worked so hard at saving.

Why
On my birthday?
Jul 2018 · 901
Honey
Bragi Jul 2018
Busy mind, busy me.
Busy me minding my busy.
Busy, you see, minding me.
I’m busy all the time and we
Remind me of how busy
My mind used to be
For you.
Busy you, minding me
Busily rushing through, dizzy.
Dizzily stumbling around the truth
Hoping we wouldn’t be
Too busy minded to see
Still Polaroid’s in all the scenes.
Images golden and sweet
Nostalgically tasting honey
These funny memories made by Bees
Busy Bees
Like you and me.
Jul 2018 · 311
Some Think
Bragi Jul 2018
Some think is bothering me
It’s getting underneath my skin
I’m feeling the slow pressures
Of a feeling sinking in
I remembered what it was like
To want to not to be
As I sit here asking
What’s right about being me?
Don’t tempt fait by looking in my eyes
You know i wear this face in disguise
So why
Why
Do you pull me beneath with that sigh?
Thinking of things, hinting, waiting
For me to give in and cry.
Tear drops moulding lines and I’ve broken
I beg you not to use me, you have me, open
But it always ends the same way when you leave it all darker, hopeless in pain.
This thinking my think reminds me some think is bothering me of late.
Jul 2018 · 269
Content
Bragi Jul 2018
It’s funny feeling content
Once again
I remember what it meant.
I wonder where it went.
In the time that I had spent
Wasted on what I dreamt
Was me trying to prevent,
fighting against, torment?
Oh.

I remember my descent
From this feeling of content.
Jul 2018 · 239
Pendulous Sway
Bragi Jul 2018
I care.
Of corse I care.
I know you think I’ve forgotten,
That I’ve moved on.
Its hard to move on when I feel like we did nothing wrong.
When I know I still want to whisper words to you.
The same few I said when you smiled at me. That moment was perfect.
I didn’t need you to say it back. I never have. But I hoped that one day you could.
It frightens me that I will never feel that, or any other word from you ever again. And that the last thing you said was ‘it never had to be this way’. It did. I opened up my heart to you, but you had a boyfriend, so I went. True I left. I couldn’t be your friend, because thats what loving you meant. A certainty too intense. Else, I was stuck in limbo surrounded by white walls, a room slowly filling with black paint until… until. I saw him through the ripples in dark liquid, feeling you, clueless of what you really mean. My life was in perpetual pause in front of a big-screen projection. Waiting for the hoping for the moment of a day, when you hold me and our heartbeats melt in pendulous sway.
This one really is my heart on a plate. Its the most honest and open I've written. If this person ever read this they'd know it was about them.
Jul 2018 · 220
The Shaded Side
Bragi Jul 2018
The feeling when the sun is piercing a clear blue sky and you can see it through a window bringing peace in sluggish time. It’s entrancing and you appreciate it’s glare. This day is perfect you think as you stare, eyes closed. But you look out from a window that is on a shaded side. The beams won’t touch you and this day won’t heal your mind. So for the next dawn you wait, on the shaded side.
Jul 2018 · 931
Breaking Again
Bragi Jul 2018
Break
Break
Break
Break
Break it
Broken
Braving the
Open.
Sudden.
Opportunity
Sees me
Repeating cycles of
Toxic masculin
It teases me
Poisons
Seeping in
Claiming what’s mine
The mind.
Weakening.
Beginning again
A grinning ‘been there’
The light singeing my hairs
As is breaks through the skin
Bleeding
Breaking
Broken
A break in
Rhythm
So break
Break
Break
Break
Break it
Broken
Braving the
O
Again.
Jul 2018 · 279
Muddled Billy Heartbreak
Bragi Jul 2018
There was younce a ong man named Billy
He knew his brilly was so srain
He went to the docblem
And they told him his protor
Was heartbreak.

His wuddled were now mords
And young Boubled was trilly
Because love would never be the same.
This one is a bit of an experiment. The words are deliberately muddled so it takes a small bit of figuring out. I see it almost like a little riddle or puzzle; confusing but a representation of what’s going on in the ‘persons’ head.
Jul 2018 · 242
Stuck In A Memory
Bragi Jul 2018
Have you ever felt stuck in a memory?
The feeling of longing and the inability to let go. Microscopic details that probably aren’t right but your mind fills them in when you close your eyes and think really hard about what was, what could have been. And then a shock hits you like ice cold water in the summer heat when you find out what is. The memory in all its beauty was never meant to be.
Bragi Jul 2018
I spoke to my dad the other day
We talked about how
When we walk down the street we
turn up our music and walk to a beat
as if something in the sensation of hearing
a note gives us an armour. Preparing
ourselves before we face the world. Power
as a calmer. We make a soundtrack to our
lives so we’re not as boring anymore, at
least not through our eyes. Our ears carry
us in a way. Keeping the voices at bay, the
ones that say ‘we’re watching you and we
see your heartache. We’re watching you
through this shield, fake. We’re watching
you because soon you’ll pay’.
I made a mistake.
I spoke to my dad the other day.
Jul 2018 · 187
Melted
Bragi Jul 2018
In the heat I hold my breath. I’m drowning in waves of sunbeams and guess as to whether the weather will wither me away in tiny droplets through the holes in my chair, collecting in puddles beneath, on the shadow hiding from a universal stare. I’m fair, unfairly treated, and in time this cycle is repeated and no one cares, like you did, now you’re not there, needed. I’m melted.
Jul 2018 · 261
Drip Drop
Bragi Jul 2018
Drip drop
Two words. They make me think of rainfall on a dark night. Cozy. Snug. Back when lines were blurred and I was a child who didn’t have to pretend I was all grown up. But ‘drip drop’ isn’t real and that’s not the pattering sound rain makes as it hits the ground, no, that’s too surreal. It will never be a slow comfort to the ears that sends soaring sears of pleasant shivers up my spine to the tip of my head. A Moment. Mine. It will never be a memory of my dad, my mum, once, tucking me in bed while it rains outside and they lean over, with a gleam in their eye, and whisper to me before sleep. ‘Drip drop’ they said. But now I hear ‘freak’.
Jul 2018 · 398
'If'
Bragi Jul 2018
If I were suicidal
I would want to see
  why people run blades over their arms
   is it
    like cutting, gliding, staining a shimmering
     white sheet?
      Does it let out the darkness in tiny
       ruby
        droplets?
       Or would it be pointless?
Would I be drowning in a bathtub of my own wrong choices?


If I were suicidal
            I would want to swing myself
into emptiness
            The feeling of tightness around my neck.
A faint crack
             in time.         To forget and rest.
Is that what it would feel like?
             A short drop
and spike
             in my heartbeat?
Or would I linger, floating? No quicker
             than the pendulum of regret come to
find me again.


If I were suicidal
I would want to know
how easy it would be to overdose.
1. the first, enough to give your body a
kick like a coffee in the mourning. But
thats about it
2. The second, slow progression. I'm thinking of
paracetamol by the way.
3. The third, not much will change
'till the
4.
5.
6.
7th? No.
8.
9.
10.
11th? More.
12.
13.
14.
15. th
      I looked it up
      anything
      past that is a lethal dose.
      But I regret this knowledge I now know
      because there is no ease in something
                     so slow   .



If I were suicidal
               I would jump                         on the tracks
       'Mile End' isn't far                         when you look at the
map       but that's one                          every 31 hours
             if you listen to                           statistics.
    I guess no one cares                          if you become an
                                      'inconvenience'.
If I feel like that anyway                     I suppose it doesn't matter.
But there's the thought                       of my loved ones
             seeing my body                        in that manner.

__


'If I were suicidal'
If this is the wish
how did we end up here
                contemplating this?
Important note to readers: However you read this, suicide is a very serious topic and should never be taken lightly. If you need help in any way big or small there are many places to turn. This is just one of them:-
(United Kingdom)
Samaritans – for everyone
Call 116 123
Email jo@samaritans.org
Jul 2018 · 234
In The Time Between Things
Bragi Jul 2018
In the time between things
I sit and wait,
Procrastinate.
Fate taunts me with my dreams,
Thoughts of kings, queens, and what life could be
But I’m only waiting for something small.
The ring or call.
Looking at my phone it tells me
‘We’re ready for you now’
As if somehow I’m not in control of my own future,
Just another bit of code in a computer.
At first sight just another user
In the system of life.
A video game with no guide
and I’m it’s destined loser.
Jun 2018 · 342
The Sun And The Stag
Bragi Jun 2018
Sick. My stomach sits unsettled.
Moaning like ghosts, mostly meaning
My mind is stuck
On you.
Haunted, hunted like a buck or stag pursued by the sunrise on an empty street in suburbia. Soon to be disturbed and yet it stays still, staring at the beams of light edging over the horizon. Hypnosis of the kind where your skin freezes and pimples, ripples, in wonder when you find the reason you’ve been stuck there all along was because this short lived sensation means more to you than carrying on.
But like a buck caught in the sunlight, it’s not meant to be. The sun doesn’t want the stag, just like you don’t want me.
Jun 2018 · 505
Update.
Bragi Jun 2018
Social media is a weakness. I’m so closely linked to what you do. I could stop. I could ‘unfollow’ but that would be rude and I’m better than that. We both are. So we continue ‘following’ the others every move. So I feel my heart collapse and explode simultaneously every time I open your story or hear the birds in the morning thinking of you. I’ll check twitter and when I see you’re ok without me, I’ll turn away, bitter. Anxiety will envelop me till the next time I grow desperate and write in your name to find my new dose, the newest update.
Bragi Jun 2018
I’m sorry. I love you.
I’m sorry for this.
I’m sorry it’s hurtful.
I’m sorry you’re missed.

Perpetual pain in a world so cruel.
I didn’t think I’d never be with you.

I’m sorry I love you.
I’m sorry I felt.
What I said was true,
Leaving hadn’t helped.

I hoped the fear would fall.
I looked past the last door

I’m sorry, I love you.
Forgive me, we stopped.
I didn’t have a clue
We would feel this locked.

I saw you there waiting for me
But now I know it was only fantasy.

‘I’m sorry’. ‘I love you’.
However it’s said
I wish this knew
A different end.
Jun 2018 · 253
y.o.u
Bragi Jun 2018
Reading this
    can see h w distra ght I am
I'm missing  ut letters.
N t j st an  letters th  gh.
Three little letters that remind me  f    .
I find it hard t  talk ab  t    .
Even t  be in the same r  m.
I av id it all.
I'll even av id writing the w rd 'av id'.
Ir nical.
H sterical.
C mical.
All w rds with a part  f     in them.
Wh  am I kidding?
I can't pretend.
It's all that's in m  head.
You.
Jun 2018 · 295
Time a...
Bragi Jun 2018
...time again
I miss something.
Is it you?
About you?
A part of
who I once was?
With you.
Because
was I me with you?
Or was I you with you?

I wish I knew.
But I haven't a clue.
I didn't choose.
All I could do
was tell the truth
and I knew I'd lose
waiting in queue
but I couldn't move,
rooted in my shoes
I refused
like a love struck fool
and was used.
But I let you.

Time and...
Jun 2018 · 340
Love and Death
Bragi Jun 2018
Love is a pale man on a horse.
          Ill looking.
               Tired and alone.
Was it ever felt more than in parting?
                'Distance', the horseman's mistress,
                                   is heartache.
The man roams the vast wilderness,
his ghostly glare bright beneath the starry night.
A sensation caught betwixt sleep and wake.

Death is a lady.
                Old.
                  Lost, but in company.
            a kind smile stretched across
          her shrouded face.
               Shadowed with grace.
       Sat by the fireplace
                   with her children she waits.

                                                    Some say for the day
                                                    the rider makes it home.
                                                    When Love will hold Death.
                                                    For the peace they are owed.
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