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active, premeditated plans to kill The deity
fighting bees Mar 2014
active, premeditated plans to **** The deity
why do you insist on calling
this a rose when we all know
its really a thorn
and why do you stay in this room
when all you want is a tree
Sometimes, its nice to know
that crying in the dark is the same
as crying in the day
but sometimes i feel like we should crawl on
our knees
and beg for forgiveness
not from 'the big man up in the sky'
but from a garden that we've forgotten about
i mean, which one really
has more power?
Continue reading...
A small prayer in the bus stop
fighting bees Sep 2014
A small prayer in the bus stop
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,
dreaming,
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.
Continue reading...
blue
fighting bees Mar 2014
blue
She was tired.
That was why she went to the ****** beach.
She was tired and so was the beach and so her and the beach fit together
my english teacher needs to learn that over description doesn't make good writing.
my english teacher looks like michael jackson
white michael jackson
and don't you dare say i'm racist
because i am sick of being the only kid here who grew up in a place where everyone was black but me, and now i suddenly am racist because i'm not scared, and i don't try and pretend i'm colour blind
and now you're going to say that reverse racism doesn't exist
what the hell is reverse racism?
how can you reverse it?
people judge you on who they think you are
whether you wear the pink top or have black skin or cried during a speech in class
when you're swimming it doesn't matter what colour your face is, because the whole world is blue
and if its not blue then you're swimming in the wrong type of pool,
and you should go to the ocean.
the ocean.
which is also free,
and comes with exotic wildlife
don't say i didn't warn you
when i said i didn't make sense i wasn't kidding
Continue reading...
Boy listen to me
fighting bees Mar 2014
Boy listen to me
After she cries, she washes her hands in scalding hot water, until the skin is ready to break away from her bones, and she is red and shaking.
You don't know this.
You don't know her.
Continue reading...
choir
fighting bees May 2015
choir
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
Continue reading...
Don't speak ill of the dead
fighting bees Mar 2014
Don't speak ill of the dead
Today I drank out of a dead man's coffee cup
i suppose its a bit morbid
and really quite sad
but i am glad he had a cup, even if no one
went to his funeral and i am
glad that he drank coffee even though he was in hospital
I hope he wouldn't have minded that i drank
tea instead of coffee
and I hope he wouldn't mind it was herbal
i didn't really know him
and once he gave me a daisy he found on the road
he had a nice smile.
wrinkles as deep as the thoughts that made them
and eyes that seemed to turn into mouths
when you looked for too long.
and not all he said was kind.
Continue reading...
Fatal Flaw #1
fighting bees Aug 2014
Fatal Flaw #1
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.
Continue reading...
goddamnit disney you got it all wrong
fighting bees Mar 2014
******* disney you got it all wrong
this is the sound of the trees.
Its the same sound smoke makes, and the moon, and birds eggs and old clocks.
It is violins and percussion and arpeggios and singing like crying
it sounds like the Lion King, likes it the circle of Life.
But there are no baby cubs held up into the sunlight in this song.
There are no baboons who will tell you the secrets of life.
in this song, the zebras and the giraffes do not parade for the baby lion, they do not live peacefully with their killers.
in this song, all of them are dead, or have been trampled into the dust.
In this song, when your father dies, you are not allowed to run away from it with some happy strangers.
no, you have to bury him, and speak at his funeral, and plant flowers on top of his new home.
you do not get to become king over all the things he showed you as a child.
A cousin, in Scotland, gets that crown, because your father always hated you.
You get an old watch, and all the books on his bookshelf.
38 books on old comedians, and 1 on carpentry.
You read them at 2 in the morning, on the days you don't have to go to school because you punched the french exchange student, and you have been suspended.
None of them make you laugh, not even when you know it should be funny.
The next night, you build a bird house, with ripped up biology notes as the floor.
your mother complains about the noise, but when she looks at your eyes, she gives you back the hammer, and goes to bed with earplugs in.
birds really enjoy ******* on quizzes about recessive and dominant genes in farm animals
Continue reading...
good morning neptune (like good morning america but without a floor)
fighting bees Mar 2014
good morning neptune (like good morning america but without a floor)
What you need to know about me is that i always mess it up.
I seem to be a hurricane, but really i am just the silence before the winds come.
half the time storms excite me, make me feel alive, make me dance, but the rest of the time i am too scared and i can't breathe and the world is too small and too big and everything is going to burn.
People tell me to sit still and breathe slowly and keep my veins beneath my skin, but i can't.
i apologise all the time because i am always doing something wrong. it is an apology in advance, so i can get it out before the words tie my throat shut with ink.
Other people can draw cute elephants and be happy and write songs, but all i can do is write about dead people.
these words are not good.
   they are not elegant.
my handwriting is messy and i can only write when other people don't want me to,
that's another apology.
Sometimes i want to call you but all the voice mails would be me begging you to help me breathe before the air disappears.
the tv is broken by static and no one can hear the queen's annual message.
here, the Queen is a spider web of dark and polish and hooks and curtains and blurry drawings and forgotten chimneys.
sorry
Continue reading...
How to pretend to be an Aquatic mammal
fighting bees Apr 2014
How to pretend to be an Aquatic mammal
this is a sun
and also simultaneously a black hole
and all we ever do is pretend to make metaphors out of astronomy
When really the only person who was really original when he talked about the stars was some scientists thousands of years ago
i am jealous of him because he could probably grow a beard
and was a male
and had original ideas
and did i mention the ****** hair
The last time I remembered what the sun was like was last Sunday
and you were eating an ice cream
and wearing those shoes that remind me of fish
Everyone I know is scared of fish.
I feel sorry for the poor fish.
Your eyes can swim better than any fish ever will.
your skin is full of volcanoes and lava
and it burns me like nothing else will ever burn.
but your eyes are fish, who live in the ocean.
they know the blue
and that's why i always forgive you.
Because your skin may burn
and your fingers may act like falling trees
and your voice may constantly be crying to the night
But your eyes are the silver fish who guide me to the seafloor.
And in the ocean, your voice is silent and your fingers are still.
Continue reading...
If we forget the words, they will remember for us
fighting bees Sep 2014
If we forget the words, they will remember for us
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.
Continue reading...
Letter
fighting bees Mar 2014
Letter
your father did not stay long enough to teach you these things, all he stayed for was the birth certificate and the first looks at you naked. but you don't tell people about that, same as you don't talk about all the times he's come back for the same thing.
and despite your mother's best efforts and cookies, you did not stay long enough for her to teach you. it is why you think you are like your father, this endless string of leavings.
and so it is that i, the worst teacher of them all, have been forced to tell you this.
and i am much better written down, or at least i'm braver.
so these are Your Guidelines:
       The Way to Reach From The Whiteness:
do not love boys with shallow eyes, because they will always turn out to be deep, and you will feel betrayed
do not love girls just because they look like boys , or because you think that will make them happier.
your only fault my dear is that you think all you are good for is to be someone else's everything, even though you have seen how impossible it is.
for once, please let yourself be only a little, with sometime else to fill in the gaps and together you will be everything.
don't run around the block when you think you should, only run when the running is the only thing keeping you sane.
when you are making love, remember that what you are doing is not ***, you are trying to get into each other's skin, and under each other's fingernails.
wear the pink shirt.
it will not make you any gayer than you already are
you will go to university, i know you will
stay there, for once resist the urge to leave and turn up at my window again.
stay, learn the things no one knows, until you find your favourite book, and a boy with skin the colour of you carpet and eyes and colour of your wallpaper, for he is already home.
treat him the care, love him the only way there is, with sweet kisses and midnight dances.
do not be afraid to hold his hand, it will not burn like the others
learn how to hide your hands from people who will see them as your father's, made for the same things.
keep your hands on you guitar, around the pencil, do not let them think they can take these things away from you
you are not your father.
i know you will do the right things.
and i know you will die, but before this, you will live and you will be happy, always.
Continue reading...
Masochism
fighting bees Mar 2014
Masochism
Look at this terrible and beautiful
monster we've made
and look at the name we've given it.
Look daddy, at all the blood
daddy can you see it
See the blood
and all the broken flowers
Daddy can we keep it?
Can it be our pet?

Please daddy, it will stay in my room
and you won't even know its there
and if you want to you can name it
It really is quite friendly
Look it lets me stroke it

Daddy please i know you have one too
you can't hide it from me
I've seen it
and sometimes i steal it, and
it sleeps in my room
and now i just want one of my one

daddy please don't hurt it
no daddy please
all I want is to keep it
i feed it and it only bites me a little
I will just hide it under my bed if you say no
its mine now

Look
I kept it all this time.
Continue reading...
Mathematical Terms
fighting bees Mar 2014
Mathematical Terms
How does it feel -
this life equation balanced thing you hold in your hand
where this adds up to This
and we are all so much easier to control
and he wanted to be a poet but his father
gave him a maclemore CD so
now he's a rapper
And to her the sunrise was an immemorial ritual
that she danced to every day
but you turned it all even anyway
in an equilibrium
of balance and an equals sign
And at school you always detested algebra.
Continue reading...
Pounding
fighting bees Jul 2014
Pounding
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
Continue reading...
Reasons why I will never let myself forget
fighting bees Apr 2014
Reasons why I will never let myself forget
I am here today because once my father forced me to enter a writing competition and i came second and he was so so so disappointed and angry in ways that you can never understand because i will tell you.
They have both forced me to do many things.
I don't want to talk about those things anymore because all i get is screaming and hurting in my eyes and i begin to sound like a child.
I am here today because people have been telling me my whole life that i am things that i am not and i have believed them.
I am here today as me and the me that i will become because once i fell out of a tree and couldn't feel my body for exactly 3 minutes and 16 seconds and in those moments i saw infinity.
And the reasons that i have cried are also the reasons that I have lived and for this I am eternally and internally grateful.
All of them were exactly who I needed for me to be me.
And sometimes I sit in the bathroom crying and sometimes in the twilight everything is so ******* unfair and i do not want them to be who they are and I do not want me to be me.
It would be easier.
And maybe they do make my insomnia worse and maybe they have ruined my smile.
But they have also forced me to teach myself things that keep me from being like the rest and they have made it possible for me to understand why people die.
So i say yes, to the people who say I needed them
I say, yes, you are right i did need them. I needed my family so i could find out that there are worse people than me
And they will never let me forget
They are the reason that i couldn't do any of it but I can know and they cannot stop me
Continue reading...
sand.
fighting bees Mar 2014
sand.
You find her in the sky and in the dirt.
it is only now, when you have had to admit she is gone, that you figure out she had no idea if she was a person or a pretend
You see her in the fences lining the basketball courts in the city centre, find her smile on the top of a rooftop, smell her hair in smoky public bathrooms.
You are afraid of beaches now
the sand reminds you of her fingers, and although you at least can understand what reality is , it seems as though the ocean is covering her bones
hearts do break
But there is no desolate staring at ceilings, no punching of walls. Because you have already seen all that can be seen on your ceiling, and the walls will not let you touch them.
like some pacifist force field, all of the bony rage dissolves until you can never even touch the walls.
Windows are broken, and they smash so much easier.
Glass cuts and you pay damage repairs, but you never touch the walls, and no one ever touches you.
being attached to a dead person is like turning into a ghost.
They are dead, but everyone else has turned you into the living dead.
Invisible=lonely=dead
x=2y=3z
there is nothing sentimental about algebraic equations, and there is no beauty in cellular respiration.
you learn things that they will never teach you, in darkened movie theatres, and behind reference shelves in the library.
and at night you stare at bridges, hoping you will catch a glimpse of her heart.
If she was alive, she would be a bridge.
And you would be a light switch.
Continue reading...
Smoking
fighting bees Mar 2014
Smoking
There is a boy in the library, ignoring the crazy lady talking through the window.
I feel like telling him she is nice. And probably not half as crazy as the librarians in this town. She has 2 children. They live in Greece. And when she cries, her dogs hide under the deck.
But he probably doesn't speak English.
Hardly any of these people sitting on their backpacks at the library do. And even if he did, he wouldn't listen.
He is reading. Its a good book. I know its a good book. I've read it. Now I feeling like telling him to leave.
He should not read it here, underneath the colour wallpaper. He needs to find a corner of a beach, so he doesn't have to cry in public. And he has to cry, because if he doesn't, I know the crying will happen inside. And his eyes will turn a shade darker with the smoke of their deaths, and his muscles will strain to rip from his ridiculously alive tendons. His eyes are already black, and I do not think he can afford to find more darkness.
Not that I would know.
He might pick cherries for a living and flirt with a trailer park attendant called Fiona is his spare time.
But I have a smell for the scared and enclosed people here. I can see the kracken hunters and the faerie kissers. They show themselves to me accidentally and I turn watch them destroy their dreams.
People ask me why I am cold all the time. They do not understand, because the boy at the library closed the book before he could cry and I knew he would be destroyed anyway
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Things you will one day say
fighting bees Jul 2014
Things you will one day say
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.
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This is final.
fighting bees Apr 2014
This is final.
so i am here this morning to show you the moons and they are not the moons that everyone else sees but they are beautiful all the same
and i refuse to be destroyed but what they can't see.

and i planted a tree in the sky and felt its leaves but i was too short and no one  else would water it so it is dead.
i will never let them destroy my plants again.

they will never again trample them and drag their own dreams into my soil or use the hedge trimmers on a sunday afternoon
shut up i am sleeping turn that thing off.

I have made a decision
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This is so much more
fighting bees Apr 2014
This is so much more
You see i would fight them for you
i would fight the stars
and the bookstores and the forests, all of them
for you.
and this is not a declaration of love
because you love him and he loves you and i have never loved either of you.
this is me telling you that he will never do these things for you.
which is why my window will always be open,
and i will try to punch them
even though the last time i got in a fight there were so many bruises and a black eye that was so hard to hide and i had mild concussion and i started to fail a class.
because when i look at you i see all the things that i have ever hidden in the dirt and the chain fences and i cry oh i cry.
and so do you.
if i had the courage to do it i would tell you it all and even though i never have, you need to know that i have never even thought of telling any one else. There is only you and there will always only be you.
i have seen you cry and you have seen me.
I have held your hand and you have held mine.
you bought me icecream and so have i.
i underlined your book once by accident because i thought it was mine and this as far i can ever get to explaining it.
that i love you. and not this love that they have told you where there is a ***** and ****** or two mouths, because you have never kissed him and you think girls are gross. this is more.
this is roots and broken teeth and screaming and phone calls
and i love you.
for michael.
Continue reading...
untitled (like my life)
fighting bees Apr 2014
untitled (like my life)
It is the middle of the night and today all i can think about is the sky
and the line of that river
and i am seeing all the dead people in my head again
please help
****.
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you goddamn numb adult
fighting bees Jul 2014
you ******* numb adult
You.
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.
BECAUSE YOU GIVE LIFE TO A UNIVERSE WITH EVERY BREATH AND YOU CREATE A NEW BEING WITH EVERY THOUGHT THAT SHAPES YOU
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.
Continue reading...

— The End —