I don't feel special,
I'm not unique.
I want to cry
but I can't even speak.
My hands reach out,
but they cannot hold
a single thing
but the bitter cold.
Everything's frozen,
I feel lost.
Even my tears
have turned to frost.
When I cut my waist
it bleeds black.
I'm so deeply gone
there's no way back.
This is goodbye

there aren’t any tears
as I watch the days slip by;
commitments made
disappearing
alarm bells fading into luscious sleep.

there aren’t any tears
as I feel myself turn inside-out;
pain ripping through
raw like open wounds -
try to hold myself together.

there aren’t any tears
as gentle corners on my face
upturn and I swallow bitter
spite as it rises in my throat:

unfair:
there are no tears
the river’s flow has ceased;
but still I hear the rush of
blood beneath my skin.

I ran away from brook-side,
wrapped-steel around my heart.
I swallowed the hard pain of
an estranged child
and the lost sentiments,
forfeited.

I curled up and tended
to my barbed-wire scrapes
and grazes from high falls;
I stopped wincing at nettle-stings.

I told myself convincing lies -
and I believed I didn’t care;
but it was tears that stung me as they fell
to remind me of what’s missing.

And the sweet memories
“red flags just look like flags
through rose tinted glasses”
And the fright as I crept

From room to room
memorised creaks:

third step; tenth step;
My blinds are too loud, so I’ll freeze

Or I’ll just miss out,
I’ll text and apologise
For not being home;

Because there are memories there
Of impossible deadlines:
racing home until I’m sick
dry-mouthed,

Wind knocked out of me
Can’t go faster,
The fear rising as I turn the corner,
face the music !

echoing laughter emanates through empty tunnels
hidden from that safe red street lamp glow;
and I quietly notice how I am always a shadow
in the trees that move in the wind as they’re changed by the season.

A collection of lost souls I nurture and hold as I rock myself to sleep
And I can’t cry for them
any more than I can  for myself.

The silent, gentle suffocation
which squeezes the breath from my lungs
snuffing out the candles
I meticulously lit on my way to my room.
It’s still and dark and creeping
and I feel the energy to smile slip away as I talk

Just as quickly as the uncertainty
which shuffles in uninvited
and steals the silverware from the kitchen.

An audience applauding the self deprecation Muffling the screams for help
As i’m invited to their table
but never quite loud enough to shout above the off stage rumble.

I am endless poetry that does not ever rhyme
Unwashed dishes concealed above as I ran out of time
Broken plastic flowerpots that house neglected plants
unpaid rent, unpaid loans, unpaid student grants

I am books I’ll one day sit and take the time to read
About caged birds escaped from homes who died once they were freed

I am fox bones weaved with gold thread, amethyst and feather
The rain and fog and cold and storm that dominates the weather

I am all the boxes that you’ll never have to open
It’s just as well because you’ll cut yourself on bottles broken

The white tipped waves bring treasures found washed up on jagged shorelines
I’m the sea glass tumbled, lost but glinting when the sun shines

anxious about eating
anxious about not
anxious about alcohol
anxious smoking ***

anxious about playing games
anxious about rules
anxious about oceans
yet swimming fine in pools

anxious about tv shows
and movies about love
anxious about growing old
and when pushing comes to shove

anxious about animals
am I good enough?
anxious about friends and foes
and all of the above

anxious about new ideas
new places and new routes
anxious about being seen
at all though that is moot

anxious about getting sick
and scary operations
anxious about other’s thoughts
and deep-dark conversations

anxious about too much joy
anxious about crying
anxious about thoughts so dark
that I’ll find peace in dying

anxious about doctors
anxious nothing’s wrong
even more that something is
fearing treatments long