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We dove into the warm deep waters
Nothing holding us back
Not one thing that matters
We gaze upon the beautiful sky
Sparkling stars shooting by
Just us two, only you and I
The night seemed magical, as it was
Then in the dawn of morning
Reality, there it was
If only the magical night was real
Then we'd both know how true love would feel.
It was a magical night but if only the timing was right.
We seen 3 shooting stars that night.
The surest and safest way of escape

is in total self-abandonment

despite adversity of any size and shape

the heart in quietude is never shaken
My penny I found her,
She's not lucky nor is she prettier than  
The penny I found  yesterday.
Just another one to add to my collection of things I dont really appreciate.
Why collect these then you ask?
It has nothing to do with penny, just for my own selfish tasks.
Not to get to know her, to see if she's
Different than the last, I'd rather not, that to me would be precious time lost, especially on one penny that's just going into a collection for me, knowing tomorrow there'll be more anyway.
One more than I had yesterday.
No matter her worth.
I will not treat this one special,
Nor did I the last few I found.
This penny is only just one of many Penny's that I've used in my collection.
She's no different than yesterday's but she's one more than before, therefore, this penny I may need, God only would know what for. Not because she's special, beautiful, young or old, just for my own fulfillment, so I behold them all the same as before. No matter if my actions hurt them, I would never care, because it's not about Penny, as I told you before.
The pain I feel it in my wrist,
In my wrist and my fist
I feel it so deep inside
Whenever mourning by your side
I feel the pain in my thighs
Whenever my cries are denied
The sorrow is wearing me thin
From under my skin
Its weary within
I cannot bear all this pain
That I'm in.
The pain runs deep like a river
An ever bigger sliver threw the flesh
Full of every disappointment and every mess
My river runs deep within
Secretly keeping all of my sin
Sunk below so nobody can see
It's only for me
The pain runs deep like the ocean crashing like waves
With pure emotion
Emotion held in for years
Comes crashing in
As I shed my tears
It's a tidal wave of effect.
Nobody can make it stop
No not yet.
My emotions I did neglect.
It pours out my eyes like counting stars in a clear night sky
Can't be counted
It can't  be denied
The life I lived
I say goodbye
    • 1 springtime
    • 1 brain, bruised and ripe for the picking
    • As many hours as can be held in your arms
    • A handful of mantras that got you precisely nowhere, e.g. "this too shall pass"

1) Before declaring yourself insane, remember you are not immune to your own humanity and every emotion seems as though you were the first to discover it. There is, ironically, a word for this - qualia - meaning however elaborate the description, words alone cannot replicate an experience (a yellow sky; a minor key). You are as much an explorer as every other living being, and these are communal journeys taken in solitude.

2) Acknowledge that when you feel blue, it is the colour of forget-me-nots. Unbolt your door, against your better judgement. Spend time among the flowers, knowing this is what the earth is capable of. This is what it creates of its own volition. Wander until no longer threatened, but comforted in the presence of beauty. It is their cycle of blooming and wilting that makes you kindred spirits and—at least this season—you're in friendly company.

3) Notice your conscious hunt for reasons to feel alienated, undecided on whether you are possessed or defective. Recall that for all the nights spent on self-interrogation, indulging in sweeping guesses and bolting your door shut as a service to humanity, you've found nothing of significance. Consider what this may mean. (For best results, do this under the sun. You will sit beside a shadow that has seen enough to understand, and wordlessly pledged its lifetime to you. Do not take its loyalty for granted.)

3) Try to reconcile your hatred of being looked at with your burning, inescapable need to be acknowledged. You will fail. Repeatedly. Keep trying, keep failing, and treat it as a success you've yet to fully comprehend.

4) When it seems as though self-acceptance means turning a blind eye to every wrong you've ever committed, or waving a dismissive hand to all the methods in which you can wound people, re-write a definition that makes sense to you. So long as your hands can wield a knife, they can hold a plant stem or a human cheek, and that is your permission to exist.

5) Repeat until the word 't-m-rr-w' doesn't desperately warrant censorship and you can look into an hourglass without the need to smash it open.
Just once,
I should like to see
a pretty truth.

I am too used to self-curating
— slipping into silken words —
shimmering golds that complement
my skin just right
(not wash it out
upon the threat
of natural light).

Confessions speed to
they cannot catch the sun
from a gentler angle,
to soften, to lovingly blur
and still pass for the same entity.

From the cradle, I've been
my own ******: half-enthusiasm
borne from rubbernecking thrills
— real-time collisions
at the mirror's appraising edge.
FIRST WRITTEN WORK OF 2021 WADDUP (and first written piece in  six months but we'll gloss over that okay)
Hindsight, hallowed be thy name.

All I've got is luggage... luggage!
My God! Turn around; find my comrades slumped under the weights strapped to their spine!
Limping, bearing, burdened by non-negotiables while the High Court of Good Karma takes collective sabbatical —
and this knapsack of shame, I've partial credit in filling.

Grey handkerchief, original sin:
one. single. suckerpunch. and my fists are raised forever,
begging for the chance to swing and prove my own strength
— supposing the opportunity never fell into my lap — I'd said "**** it," packed a

hundred grams of bushy brushed-out curls, stop-sign red
fifty grams of lips to match (uniform too, now I think about it)
fifty grams of raccoon eyelids and coloured-in brows
hundred grams of halls of mirrors, circus-attraction Alice
lose a hundred/gain a hundred/repeat til dizzy
hundred grams of ******-in stomach, eyes averted in changing rooms
wigs by the armful — that's three — nom-de-plumes thrown in gratis
(it's only a journey to the rest of my life anyway, I'll need them,
alternative being cinematic debut as Myself)
hundred performances to imaginary audiences, less-than-stellar reviews
hundred grams of overwhelming then underwhelming "on purpose"
hundred grams of laughing off any belief in potential
hundred grams of scratch-marks and verbal fountains of venom
hundred grams of giving almostneverquite as good as I got
hundred grams of group-work alone thank ****(?)
hundred biro-holes stabbed in martyred pencil cases
feral in broad daylight spoiling for a fight
kilo of aiming for 'scary' and landing on 'strange'
kilo of being third to make good company a crowd
kilo of taking sixteen years to find Her
— Shadowboxer Fiona, rhythms invisible, catharsis in art —
hundred doodled superstitious evil-eyes in the ruled margins
hundred laments over the inability to provide a better future

(removed one by one whenever I think the future's mutable)

that one glimpse of white lightning in a violet storm
one single minute's pause to look over my shoulder
scarce-to-zero progress made
endless miles to go
breathless body soaked to the bone
and this useless! *******! bag! of Everything and nothing of value!!
mansions worth of loathing yet there's nothing to lose
did I decide that because I can't change the world, I can change nothing at all
(instead throwing darts at reflections/emotional *****/kicking stray dogs as a full-time hobby)?

O clarity so saccharine that I cannot be angered by the wasted years
I take it
   off my shoulder,
the first kind action I have spared myself in time unguessable
    air it out...
and trudge on
The world's enough of an uphill climb.
written after too much time poring over allen ginsberg. ambivalent about this but the alternative is endless writers' block so this way i've at least got something to show for myself
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