Words define me by people who shouldn’t matter
and of those who do matter.
Friends, family, strangers, bullies.
I live in the shadow of their words,
pinned down by their dictionary of hateful words.

These words squash me
squeezing so tight tears roll down my face.
They cocoon me in self consciousness,
self loathing and feeling of worthlessness.

They grate at my skin
wearing me down.
Few comments here and there
shaking my sanity.
They pierce all previous thoughts of myself
and burn holes in my mind.

I know they,
their words,
shouldn't matter but can you blame me
when everyone in my life
constantly puts me down.
Sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident.

Its the accidents that make me self destructive.
You think your being nice by telling me,
I can’t have a snack as you think I should stop eating so much
because my clothes look a bit tight this week.
You say your being kind, trying to help me out

but it  k i l l s  me  i n s i d e  and  o u t.

It’s is a rope, with the strongest of fibres
that holds me together and can unthread and tear me apart,
it replaces my bones and makes me limp.
It makes me fold into myself as I walk -
are people staring at me?

Coiling so very tightly
twisting and turning and tying,
tying me up, forcing me to my knees.
Cuts deep into my foundation -
they’ve spread too far.

Rapid breath intakes, sweaty palms
my heartbeat is deafening, faster faster,
punching through my chest as I walk down the street.
I just need to get to the end
yet I always fail and f  a  i  l  more.


Trying not to let my weak body collapse me.
trying not the let the sheets smother me.
trying not the let the rocks squash me.
trying not to let the fingers strangle me.
trying not to let the words define me.


It’s like a ***** that holds my world together
there not point trying to look, you cant find it,
yet when I’m in public it comes loose.
I prepare to run as
the sky crumbles around me.

The ***** is so small you cannot tell it lay inside me
it’s so delicate so don’t look at me closely,
or you can see it in the twiddling in my fingers.
The dilated pupils and panicked expression.
Choose. Fight or flight?

I bite my lip so hard it starts to bleed
trying to keep it inside and hidden as to keep it a secret,
it’s like a wave trying to break towards the shore.
Like somehow, it’s never going to stop
*so I keep sinking and sinking and nobody can tell.

During the winter
flowers wash over with snow-
quilting in numbness.

It’s amusing how I glorified your every word.
made them up to be immeasurable and compelling,
playing them over and over in my head.
Your beautiful and electric words,
caressing my ears as they brushed your lips.
Floating from mind to page,
your pen as your loves instrument.
Hypnotic and sincere that made life a fairytale,
yet looking back on those times now they lack conviction.
No more than merely ramblings of a desperate boy,
who played on girls wishes to be princesses and be the centre of a love story.
These words you let out were just strung into lines on a page,
in attempt to fill

the

space.

We crawl into a book,
slipping in between print,
wrapping ourselves up in the comforting words.
It sits there waiting,
to invite us to its world,
sad dust collects when untouched.
Beauty in the creators imagination,
thought provoking, sad, happy -
emotions created by print on a page.
The smell of earth and must.
An exciting adventure to happen,
or an old and reliable friend.