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 Mar 2014 Antonena Ishkova
Eliza
It's not my fault
that sleep doesn't come to me easily,
that the thoughts in my mind will not leave me,
that it takes two hours before I drift off completely
(sometimes even three).

It's not my fault
that my hands and legs would not stop fidgeting,
that I find the littlest things very distracting,
(like how the clock never stops ticking)
that I like to keep repeating.

It's not my fault
that sometimes I can't breathe,
that I'm not the person who you would want to be with,
that sometimes I don't want to live.

It's not my fault that I have a condition.
Or maybe it is.

*(n.d.)
Lovers beware for love is a dangerous thing
It consumes your heart and your head
It will leave you gasping for breath in moments where you need it most
You're blinded by something that can hardly ever be contained, no matter how hard you try
You can't trick or hide love for very long
It eats away at you
It becomes the motive behind your actions
Everything in life is secondary to what or who you love
Love is painted to be the panacea of all troubles
When in truth, love causes most of them

But what a life you live when you're in love
Every day has a purpose
You feel as though you understand everything
Being in love brings peace and comfort
Yes, you can still be hurt by anything, but love offers you reassurance
That someone will be there to pick you up and care for you
At the end of the day when you have been beaten and battered by the everyday world
Love is a tricky game to play
And some people don't ever win
Because they don't know the secret

Love isn't perfect in any way
The art of loving someone isn't something you can master over time
You may feel as though you can predict it,
But when you find that person,
You forget all that you ever thought you knew about love
Love can't be defined simply
For it is unique and different for each person
You can't compare the love you give and receive to anyone else

And that's the beautiful chaos that love creates


m.h.
 Dec 2013 Antonena Ishkova
Eliza
It's amazing
how much of a comfort you can find
with fictional characters and their worlds.

Whether it's fantasy, sci-fi or thriller,
whether their world is full of dangers and adventures,
you would rather be in theirs than be in yours.

I realised how much of a sadness our world has become
because we rely in non-existing worlds
in order to survive our own.

*(n.d.)
Not my very best, tho.
It's loud. Sounds reach a level of uncomfort.
I don't hear it, but I see your lips,
moving apart a long distance.
What are you yelling?
Your words go in one ear and out the other.
Your screams make my body shiver,
but then indifference.
The world on a standstill, no reaction to the action.
Saving me from the agony, the pain.
It all sinks in the unconscious, not for long.
There's a 4GB limit.
 Dec 2013 Antonena Ishkova
Emma
I won't spit out your bones.
Instead I'll carry them,
nestle them under my throat, bear
them like I bore my love for you:
That is, carelessly,
cutting at my throat and ******* until
my forearms stain and an earthquake
thunders down, showcasing the other
fossils I have buried before you.
Tell me why it is we don’t lift our voices these days
And cry over what is happening. Have you noticed
The plans are made for Iraq and the ice cap is melting?

I say to myself: “Go on, cry. What’s the sense
Of being an adult and having no voice? Cry out!
See who will answer! This is Call and Answer!”

We will have to call especially loud to reach
Our angels, who are hard of hearing; they are hiding
In the jugs of silence filled during our wars.

Have we agreed to so many wars that we can’t
Escape from silence? If we don’t lift our voices, we allow
Others (who are ourselves) to rob the house.

How come we’ve listened to the great criers—Neruda,
Akhmatova, Thoreau, Frederick Douglass—and now
We’re silent as sparrows in the little bushes?

Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.
What we're gonna do
if the lion wakes up?
Soften the flesh
or sharpen our nails?

What we're gonna do
if his female wakes up?
Kiss her womb
or lick her ****?

What we're gonna do?
The milk gets sour,
Oh, sad tigers,
in your navels.

What we're gonna do?
The wheat withers,
Oh, sad tigers,
you better rest with me

and let's watch the rain

It is better if we rehearse God's dream,
now that his vigil,
so much, it shakes us.

Oh, Sad Tigers,
I was also born in dry savannah
to wait,
to save my l a s t b r e a t h

and to watch the rain,

to watch, I watch.
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
If I should have a daughter,
Well, I'd probably lock her away and buy her a suitor
Because I wouldn't want her to feel what I felt.
I'd probably buy her everything
So she wouldn't feel what I felt.
I'd most probably
Eventually
Turn my house into the greatest functioning dystopia
A pill would take away the pain
Everything was chosen for you
The giver, the receiver, everything mapped out
So she wouldn't feel what I felt.
I would probably find friends for her that she could trust
And she would never fight with
So she wouldn't feel what I felt.
If I should have a daughter, I would cry each night
Because I would know
Eventually, she would feel what I felt
And quite possibly more
And I don't want her to feel what I felt
So I don't think I'll have a daughter
So she doesn't feel what I felt.
This one's for you, Katie.
one* I am a writer
two I am a submissive
three Life has handed me tons of lemons and I just don't know what the hell to do with them
four I do not know everything no matter how hard I try to seem like I do
five I hate yellow cheese, I don't know why but I hate it
six I love dogs. All dogs.
seven My relationship is more or less complicated as hell
eight I will never be a size 00 again.
nine My job *****.
ten I am not ready to be an adult.

There, those are ten things I know to be true. Do they make sense? Not really. Do they tell a story? No, I guess they don't. But are they all true? Yes.
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