My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,


is decide.

the last time I wrote my hair was shorter,
copper, colourful and vivid.
I wait because that’s what I was taught to do;
you bleed until what you crave consumes you.
until your head is afflicted by the fervid, dark feelings.
when I crawl around my every day, I find pieces of you.
in plantain chips and Plato.
in wool coats and white coffee mugs.
it's impossible to tear myself from you.

The voices
I always trusted them
Then they led me down the rabbit hole
I stopped trusting them after that

I couldn’t trust anybody but myself
Little girls were trying to **** me
Cats appeared and disappeared
Crazy men flew around with hats and needles

Tea time was alway on time and ready
The dormouse stabbed me
The hare rambled and little alice

Oh little alice was the worst she and white put me on trail and i was found guilty
Punishment death…
The voices
I always trusted them
Then i found out they for were against me and for little alice