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fighting bees May 2015
in choir, we sing a song about the death of children,
all latin and deep and dark
in my head is a forest with the song always playing, deep and latin and dark
imaginings of trees and dead children,
this is what I am singing
Of course, everyone else is singing crescendos and diminuendos and harmonies and their parts, but I
I am singing trees and dead children
on second thought this is maybe not the best plan,
just as this poem is maybe not the best plan
here we go breaking the 4th wall again
trees and dead children

in choir we sing a song about marriage
someone said no
the piece is conversational and relaxed
i am not relaxed about rejection,
regardless of performance markings and instructions

in choir there is a workshop, where a man tells us about feeling the line of the song.
I understand all about these lines,
pulling and pushing and carrying us through the music
he says we have to control it,
but no one has ever controlled the line of music
fighting bees Sep 2014
I will pray for whispers in shallow mornings
and rivers that run in the sand formed by a salty salty sea.
Praying for the birds to swallow you up,
whole and uneaten as of yet, but ready to be dissolved by any acid anyone chooses to dissolve you in.

I will pray at the steps of the sky,
and go and follow it's steps into the night,
praying the whole time universe lead me home, even though you are as lost as i am
I will pray deep and dark in the night time,
a prayer that is almost crying, but not quite there,
for my sisters and brothers and sons
who I have never met.

I will pray silent, and loud,
With all the different kinds - crying, screaming,
quiet alone, begging, bribing, hoping,
waiting, loving, guilty asking,
All of these prayers, all different, all mine,
all true, thank god.
Amen amen amen amen.
We agree.
A small prayer from a person who stopped praying when I realised who they really wanted me to subject myself to.
fighting bees Sep 2014
We used to die,
dark in the sunlight,
eyes watering when we came out of the desert,
and they all saw us.
maybe some screamed, my friend.
Maybe we are monsters,
but the night still stirs with stories that you long to tell,
and I still long to see the words of my skin written on someone else's eyes.
These things shall never change.
We shall remain monsters,
but our definition has changed.
Because when I look in the mirror I see you standing at my side,
and with you I can be right,
no matter what I look like.

This mirror is not what makes me beautiful,
this face will never be seen as beauty.
But when it counts, when it counts,
that is when we will all get to go home,
because can't you hear the stars reminding us where we belong?
And there, when we see those stars who were once our brothers,
and our sisters,
we will know how beautiful we truly are,

and the light will be blinding.
fighting bees Aug 2014
I have about a thousand fatal flaws,
though none of them have actually killed me yet.
And one is that no matter who I am talking to
I imitate them.

I subconsciously turn into them as I talk to them,
their mannerisms, and the things they talk about,
the way they talk, their accent,
even who they talk to.
I know I do it, but I can't stop,
It happens without me noticing.

So I spend my life sounding exactly like everyone else does
and just for once,
I would like to meet someone who I can talk to in the same voice
then the one that I talk to myself in,
and the one that's in my head.
fighting bees Jul 2014
Bleed into this stones, the blood of your resolve
Cover the grey with your red and the feel the dark sky you created
maybe there will be cracks in your skin and in the ice but one day the water will become so warm that no one will be able to swim
Running along the shoreline, so sudden like the line of his face
screaming, screaming into this oh so sudden silence, even though you love it.

You cannot help but destroy all the things you love
But if you can still bleed on these rocks, then you are alive
Into this deep blank water that swallows you

In another life, you were a horse
And now you cannot help but feel the wind in your blood and try so hard to pound the earth beneath your feet.
And the green of those plants and the birds that hide their darkness in it,
is what reminds you of yourself
And the green of your eyes that you know is meant to be black.

I am proud of that blackness, love
And your staring in the mirror, as you admit to yourself who you are
Slowly the mirror will crack and you not be able to see yourself
And then you will know who you are
Because you will have to know without knowing,
and it is only then that you can see

I look forward to that day, love
fighting bees Jul 2014
him. its just
You said that you had learnt how to be happy and smiled at me with a glass of red wine on the counter, and for a moment I ignored its colour,
and just believed you.
her. its just
That if things are okay why aren't they the same, and if things are okay then why is he here, why did he come back,
and if you are okay then why is the bathroom sink always clogged with the pills you refuse to take.
she. its just
You know that when I say I am staying at a friends, its a lie, because i have none, and you know sometimes I wake up in the dark and don't know where I am, and you know some of the pills in the cupboard are mine,
but you never ask.
his. its just
He loves him like I never knew was possible, and its only now I am realising that I never knew love, never from you, and yes I will say it I will
you were a bad mother.
hers. its just
That I want out of this, I really do, because I have been out once before and now I know that there is a world, that there is more than the way this family works and I have seen the way other people think this family doesn't work
and I want to go see if I can do better.
them. its just
Another time for him to get mad at me and you don't understand that, you don't listen and I beg and beg you to, because I need it.
And when you get mad at him, you don't understand the things he does to me afterwards and I can't do it, it has to be over.
Please leave before he does.
us. no
no I will not leave, no I love you, he does not, and I am never leaving
Not until you are safe.

theirs. its not
Just anything; its us, and we will keep it and look after it and maybe our therapists won't think its very 'healthy' and maybe your mother will yell at me again and complain to your aunt on the phone
But its not just anything; its ours.
Things that all the people I see on the bus need to say, all the 'its justs' that are really so much more than that, the things you won't say without crying, so please, breathe; and say them and keep saying them until somebody listens.
fighting bees Jul 2014
I do not know you.
But I need you to do this for me.
Please, buy second books from a man that smells like cheap beer. Break the flickering lights above your hospital bed that give you a headache. Take the subway or the train or the bus and sit too close to someone and tell them they are beautiful. Run into the ocean and the river and under the bridge and feel the cars roar in your chest.
Sing loudly and quietly and mouth the words and never forget them.
Let people hug you, let their touch remind yourself that you are human. Don't go. Don't go to that job you hate, or into the arms of that *******. Please just sit alone and feel like yourself and be okay with it maybe for the first time ever.
I need you to help me and to help yourself. I need to know that people can live and be happy and okay and love the right and the wrong things. I need to know i can do this.
you will be okay you will be and I just need you to show me
to let me know that humans can grow old and still have smiles and lights and ideas and that it is okay for me to be alive.
I just need to know that.
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