It's so strange
how little I'll let slip
compared to what I share

here, with you.
It's so odd
how much I've put out there
compared to what I keep

here, with us.
I need to come out of this
pain. I love

and hate
everything because
on some days I'm worth it
and on other days I'm not.

So I write
this terrible poetry
that means the world to me
and briefly the world stops
destroying me.

In this act of creation
I can breathe, poiesis
frees me from fear, it

releases me from my own
agony, I can believe at last
and all I can see are moments
shared between people, kept in memory.

It is bittersweet, καλλίστη.

Some stuff happened to me this week,
More stuff will happen this weekend.

My newsfeed is full
of festival related statuses,
Proof that I live in a bubble but
it's a wonderful bubble to float away

in; the tribes gather
for Body & Soul.

We will dance and through each body
will shine a soul, every soul will move

to the beat of one body,
To the heartbeat
of our soul.

I'm trying
so hard
to be human
and that
is where I
keep falling
down. It hurts.

These social somersaults make me sick,

I find I am inconsistent in my thinking,
Depending on my present company.

My internal dialogue is so messy:
Everyone's talking, nobody's listening.

Sometimes I feel as if each of us were stranded
on our own island, and our only way to communicate is by

shouting across the straits
at one and other

Woke up
still drunk,
I feel so sick
listening to Cigarettes After ***
while writing this.

These tears I held back
for a few years have
come and gone and
now I'm hungover.