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Daisy Chain May 2014
Poetry died for me, the moment I read it out-loud
The moment someone told me it was pretty,
or well-written and eloquently round.
Poetry died for me
the moment I thought ‘I’m special’,
When I my expression turned into
impression
Which turned into a chore.
I need to write more.
I need to write more so I can learn how to ‘better express myself.’

There is      No.         Such.        Thing.

Even ****** poems express something.
The desire to be loved.
The desire to be admired.
The desire to be accepted and connected for those more linguistically tired.
The fear of being average.
The fear of being plain.
The fear of being an unskilled cliché baring internet pseudo-name.
The loss of inspiration.
The loss of the golden hand.
The loss of the connection with the imaginary friend.
The forced similes and metaphors that explain something so mundane
Only reveal, that we want to say something but we are scared.
That no one will listen – unless you can impress…
and  make them feel the same.
Daisy Chain May 2014
I can't fight your pessimism.
I can't make you see
What I see
the horror, the chance
of catastrophe.

I simply cannot seal
the lips of the fountain's mouth
Honesty overflows
desperate to carry out
its reality.

You need to see
that whatever you believe
is what is going to be.

Often placing your gentle hand
on the hot-winter coal
it consistency burns
for at least this you can control.

The power of perception
brings the fire of deception
Telling you that there is no chance
of love
There is no such thing
as joy.
For it is but only a game.

You listen to your fears,
despite it's drool
despite it's lies
you are the fool.

You listen to that which
will inevitably cry.
I am a lie
I am your mind.
Daisy Chain Apr 2014
I love you like stupid does
Throwing my arms up
and declaring
an overwhelming defeat.
I love you like a child does
an adoration that knows
no bounds
giving an unwarranted amount
of everything.
I love you like an old man
loves the sun
gratefully soaking up
ever last moment
of warmth before he too
is done.
I love you like a tree
that roots itself
deeply
and continues to grow
unconditionally.
I love you.
I just do.
Like stupid does.
Daisy Chain Mar 2014
I’m alive
I breathe
I think
I feel
I want
I fear
I change
I ignore
I lie
          I long for
                                     I leap
I cry
             I soar
I cry
    
I fall

I cry
I pout
I harden
I cross
         I surrender
I sit
I listen
I wait
I realise
I transform
I desire
I love
I admire
I breathe
I live
Daisy Chain Mar 2014
The sheets that smell of your face
That once told me
That I was beautiful
I lay often blinking
Away the tears
That well from your silent love
The way your nose touches my cheek
When you press against me
In the night
Tells me all the things that I want to hear out loud
I want you to scream them
I want you to feel them so burningly that the fire
On your teeth turns sweet
Its because I don’t understand love
I don’t really know what it is, so I keep looking
But I’m looking in the wrong places
I know where to look
but its scary there
Because it’s inside of me

And inside of me its dark
So dark in fact that even dark doesn’t exist
No light ever touched me
No sound has ever caressed me
No breeze has ever whispered upon anything but my skin
because inside me, there is a nothing.
And I say a nothing on purpose
Because there is an essence that cannot be defined
It cannot be touched or explained
Or even described
but its there, and it sits forever
It listens to the rain of emotions and thoughts
That batter against the windows of my eyes
It sits so deliciously still
So still that when I taste it
A fountain of gentle love flushes my spine
So that I feel far too pleasant
To be able to love you
Because If I loved you that much
If I covered you in all the nothing that
Rests attentively inside of me
I wouldn’t even have my nothing left.
It would just be you
Only you
And I would be your skin
holding you together
While giving you all the sensitivity
Of every nerve in the universe.
Daisy Chain Dec 2013
Often in the land of dew,
I waltz around and look for you.
You absence persists as days flow
Following things you ought to know.

In this place of light and soft,
I caress the growing grass and moss,
reminding me of our days past,
the tender whims of pats and laughs.

I now hum the tune of your will
I know that must hear me still.
Whichever place you think you roam,
all paths lead to our small home.

If life has taught me anything true,
patience would never search for you.

Often In this land of dew,
I waltz around and look for you.
I do not wait nor endure,
my stillness remains blue and pure.

I smile without cease for your return,
Whether you do or not is not of my concern.
Daisy Chain Dec 2013
I only half do things,
Like washing a ***
With smears left at the sides.
So long as it doesn’t make me sick
Or take up space
In the kitchen or my mind,
Its good enough. Its clean enough.
I only write things
With a fraction of my heart
Sprinkled on a whole lot of obligation
Exasperated, reluctant movements
That scrape lethargically into words.
I love feeling the apathy fade
Into an apathy that’s deeper still
When I don’t care that I don’t care
And I can simply sit
And wonder, if one day I will.
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