sometimes when i lie in bed
it's like i've been hit round the head.
I'll try and get up, just to find that i can't,
it's my daily dose of existential dread.

they can't see, they can't see
that it coats my bones, bulges against my skin;
those little yellow bubbles
that make me want to give in.

Happiness
It's such a rare find to me
because i find increasingly often
only sadness and despair.

Happiness
It creeps up on you like ink on a page,
then shoots you in the heart
with a feeling afresh.

Happiness
is incredibly hard to write about
(evidently)
because who could write about
being content in yourself?

Happiness.
an indescribable feeling of...
peace.

it's been a while since i wrote a poem.
perhaps i forgot
perhaps i got distracted
perhaps, just maybe, it got too much
I'm not used to having
a healthy coping mechanism.

there's a person under the waves
sinking
you stare at them through a glass wall, like an aquarium visitor
sinking
the eyes of the wounded are filled with pain, with hurt
but you can't help them.
they were sinking;
they've sunk.

my teachers say i'm good at writing
they say i'm at
GCSE level.
But they don't understand how i work
i don't write.
The writing writes me,
the writing writes the writer.
I take inspiration as it comes,
and when it flees i'm left with nothing.
I'm thrown into a room of children
lower than my level
and they expect me to
learn?!?
What a ******* joke.

My fractured dreams,
A kiss, a cry, a greive,
Another relative splinters into moonlight
Another friendship wrought into iron and stone.

i never did apologise for not having the chance the chance to saying goodbye to grandma.
sorry.
i never did apologise for never returning that pencil that i 'borrowed' from the teacher.
sorry.
i never did apologise for being a terrible friend.
sorry.
i never did apologise for being the reason you're trapped in a failing marriage.
sorry.
i never did apologise for being born and ruining your plans.
sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm so, so sorry.
i am more sorry each day.
sorry for wasting your time.

sorry.

I write the same poem, over and over again.
She once said:

It's another song about water and big feelings.

:and I said:

So sing it.

i had a dream
i was
eternal
i was
unforgiving
i was
bad.
but i was
dying?
and they were
sad?
i don't get it.
maybe you can?

WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME ON ******* READ
im shaking cant type sorry shaky heands shaking breathing shaking ******* bones because you tried to ******* **** YOURSELF AND I SWESR TP GOD AND CHRISY AND MOTHER ******* MARY THAT I ******* TRIED but im **** at trying so all i can do is sit here and sob sob sob sob sob sob sob sob because you tried to do it with PARACtetalmol? and ive told you so many times that its a **** way to killyourself because youll be in days of excrushating pain as you kidneys fail and you can do **** all about uit ecxept for taking something...
for the pain.

Like Persephone, when you're
Gone from me, you
Leave behind the
Wintertime, snow falls
In your wake, and I
Can't help lying awake
Thinking of
You, and the flowers
That you grow
In the cold, dark, earth
Of me.

i just wanted you to hold me
and when you did,
i felt whole.
My feelings grew,
i grew obsessed.
You were my anchor,
i felt stable with you near.

Tomorrow, that's the day
I drive down
and finally
we can be close.
We can touch;
we can talk;
we can be comfortable in the gaps in between.

You are part of my life, to the point where
I find it hard to remember you
not being there.
Met when i was six, you were seven
(but only a few months older!!!)
been close ever since then
But, oh, my darling,
what if we were closer?

I want you to hold me
you make me feel whole again.
I want to make you feel
less
alone
again.
You make me believe in marriage,
and children,
and living past eighteen.
When i'm at my worst
you're my voice of reason,
saved my life at least once.
And i want to save yours.

do you need saving, my love?
Do you?
sorry,
i'm not used to this.
and neither are you,
somehow makes this
all
the
sweeter.

come now, little creature, curl up and let me surround you
let me sink warmth into your tired bones.
come now, little creature, let me sing you a lullaby
let my love for you grow.
come now, little creature, sleep now and get some rest
morning will come harshly if you will not lay down your head.
Tomorrow, little creature, it all starts up again
grasp for the small things that bring warmth to shrivelled hearts of men.

i like the rain.
i like the sound,
the soft pitter patter;
the rumbling clouds.
The way it distracts from an arguing friend,
the drops on my forehead to cool my anger.
I like the rain.
the cool, clear air that descends upon the now-tranquil environment,
and the green it brings to the fields around me.
i like the rain.
It washes everything clean,
cleansed by nature's shower.
I like how it gives me peace
when there is non around me.

Cos when I bite my nails with no light to see,
I wake up in the morning to them screaming at me,
Broken, torn, and fraying at the seams.
And I think
****, why do I do this to me?

I JUST HAVE TO SING
OH I JUST HAVE TO GET IT OUT-
LET BREAK MY BONES, BURN THE TEETH OUT OF MY MOUTH
AND I JUST HAVE TO   D A N  C   E
CARRIED AWAY ON THE BREEZE
promise me...
That you won't take me from the places I roam-
THAT YOU WON'T TAKE ME
FROM MY. OWN. HOME.
Watch my flowers that in my garden grow..

i want you
to
break me
with your words
with your tongue
i want you to give me all of your pain;
share it with an old, broken soul.

'want' is such a shallow word
rings of childishness and greed.

i need you to **** me
slowly, gently
let them know
it's you, as i plead
look at me here, sobbing
i need you
to give me
relief.

she jumps from table to table, dances with me like no other.
dips me, lifts me, whips me round in the most passionate of tangos.
She traces her legs, every movement, with care,
a fall from grace, so perfect and so rare.
she catches me as I leap. And leap I do but still I am there, in her arms, wrapped so tightly and held so dear.
"Do you like that?" she whispers into my ear
I do not. But I cannot seem to drag myself from her, a swirling twister of silver and red, though to be with her is my downfall, and she knows it.
she sees the fear in my eyes and she relishes in it. she sees my inhibitions and she dances all the more, shocking my soul and pleasing my heart. she is a heatwave, frostbite, a tragic death and the first breath. she is my ending and my beginning, killing me softly. and yet I do not stray. try as I might to escape she drags me back screaming and kicking, spinning me round till I cannot see, cannot walk and cannot think. she is ingrained in me, patterns on my skin that burn desperately through my clothes, itching red-hot. they remind me that I am hers.
and what if i liked it?