It hasn't been long
Since the universe made
It's last spin
That knocked you off your feet
In the midst of this sickening swirl
You reach for the door ****
Thinking you were held captive
In this life you called prison
All it took to escape
Was lifting your eyes
To merge with that
Which had no labels
No judgements, no yesterdays
And no promising
tomorrows
Just as you came you shall leave
And the only thing constant will be
The ever returning
Eye ******* blue
Above your head

In line with recent policy
we are outsourcing
our poetry services
in a bid to increase efficiency

This will make savings
and improve the service
just as it always does.

Daffodils

Out a walk
saw some flowers
there were loads of them
they were quite pretty

APPROVED

Dulce et Decorum Est

War's *******
and it's no fun
being gassed

APPROVED

To a Mouse

Sorry for wrecking your house, mouse
but we've all got problems

APPROVED

The Raven

I miss my bird

APPROVED

vi.

my catharsis, my beacon in the dark
when i walk with you
all my worries
are meaningless

no longer lost
no more aimless wandering
i know what i want to reach,
i'm very sure of what i'd like to keep

you
felt so much like home, maybe you will
always be the home where i
can feel ugly, yet have never felt so safe

I recall
her lost smile

like a sketch
I draw from my memory

and those days in the rain
laughing, drops

hitting the creek
slow as a dream

until a shadow
fell across the mirror

brushing her hair
in a dark room

like a honeycomb
of sad bees

and double entendres
two lifetimes ago.

Clear is not innocence, clear is lack of justice. Clear is ****.
It is ****. Is me, is clear, is vacant, is *****.*


They took my sweater first. Cardigan. Blue, bought it on a family trip to Florida (on sale). I was fifteen. 15.

15 years old and they paraded it around the basement of my classmate’s house.

Parents not home.
The Home in the suburbs. Classmate’s parents going through a divorce
(very quietly).

They kept alcohol in the closet.

15 years old and He took my sweater first. I think his name was spencer.

I can’t remember- they were feeding me , helping me to breathe in grain alcohol. Soak it in. Clear. Almost water not quite water looks like water. Breathe. Breathe drink breathe drink . 15

I didn’t know how to drink. My first time drinking breathe drink breathe no more breathing heavy breathing they took me into the bedroom upstairs.

What happened there . The strangest thing I don’t remember woke up the next morning not my shirt WHERE’S MY SHIRT. **** my sweater can’t find it.

wearing someone else’s socks.

The socks are black with rubber grips on the bottom

xvi. where do you go when your house isn't home?

i ******* crawl out of my body, swim infinite miles of the ocean, stretch my neck to the skies, replace my head with the moon. i ******* yearn for your presence, try to break the mirror with my weak stare, can't go further, fitting room doesn't fit whatsoever, all the buttons escape from my ***** and hair falls like tiny dandelions in a rainstorm.
i grow potatoes in my mouth, when i speak i smell of my root, when i am on my period i talk about stomachache at dinner table, when i search for space my tummy is the balloons at pingkan's 8th birthday party which i couldn't bring home. blow the candles i forgot to make a wish for a moment the fate seems seamless, bright red lipstick, brown mascara, outfits i can't ever wear to school, or to be honest, not anywhere because when i try to walk, every step is a ******* hysterical cry, when i use my toes every cell in my body violently shakes.
my house isn't home. my house isn't home. my house isn't home. my house isn't home. my house isn't home how do you know that? how did you barge into my clichés? how dare you claim something that even i won't bring myself to think about?
i ******* crawl out of my body, not as soon as possible, i do it right now, right ******* now so i know the years i've spent trying to nourish the flesh i don't really own are worthless, the years i've devoted myself to my worldly lover are the ones that have been consuming my tiny soul, if you ask me now of course no one is satisfied, no one is satisfied until i don't want to call you mine anymore.
i ******* crawl out of my body.
in a desperate attempt to make the hideous pleasing to watch, i sell blindfolds on the street, i light the matches in the rain, i dream of dead grandmother and christmas feast. i turn into a cold statue, i left the tenderness for stupid microorganisms, my divorced bones blame me for everything i did not do. i used to do the right things now i just do nothing, it's ******* useless anyway, i can blink five thousand times and still believe that time is what the clocks and calendars say. (my grandmother was a buddhist.)
i ******* crawl out of my body. i don't want to experience this anymore, i am not into this kind of thing, i long for your presence, all i've got from this building is an infinite count of absences. my body is a building, it has no level, no room, no door, no window, no furniture. my body a giant concrete boring box, i do not even live there anymore, nobody lives there anymore, they are all gone to a poppy field in the middle of nowhere (actually somewhere, only that i am not invited). i ******* crawl out of my body, did that answer your question?
i ******* crawl. out. of. it.