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Attie Aug 2018
A letter to the girl I love
The opening of my soul
She is the sensation of passing cars
Hard to grasp
Constantly moving
A flash before your eyes
She is the cooling rain that tears the sky in two
Rushing over me
Her very presence
But what a shame
That’s she doesn’t feel the same for me
Unrequited love
She is like honey and chamomile
Her very voice and laugh
Bringing me a sense of joy
I think I see it in her eye as well
Or do I ?
1.2k · Aug 2016
gender boundaries
Attie Aug 2016
little girl wants a monster truck
little boy wants a fairy doll
little girl wants to be a boy
little boy wants to be a girl
doors closed and eyes closed
wishing for a brighter tomorrow
closet doors creaking open
light shining in
closet doors jammed open
Attie Apr 2018
If anger was a colour
what would it be?

stereotypical blush red
or would it be
the black slashes on a page

the its overs and the i'm sorry's

maybe its the grey of an oncoming storm
waiting for it to move on

If only it were that easy
to describe emotions
s  e  n  s  a  t  i  o  n  s
and feelings

but in reality
you can't

because we as human beings
are much more complex

we are the changing currents
and rolling waves

blending into one
759 · Sep 2017
Attie Sep 2017
promises of love
and dediction
we believe we are grown
but inside of us
just under the surface
is a child wanting to be comforted
to be loved
so we hide this part of us
the colours in our mind slowly dying
because they say to keep something maintained you
must nourish it
but the nourishment we need
is rare
and this makes our palettes grey
resorting to unorthodox versions of what we need
crutches and supports
that people refuse to speak about
the childhood friend
that moved away
when you were young
unable to cohere as to why
they couldn't stay
wrapped in the dreamland
of explosive joy
708 · Aug 2019
Attie Aug 2019
I am spiralling down a dark well
mortar and stone grazing my knuckles and fingers
in their desperate plea to find a crack
a divet
anything to stop the spiral
but I continue to fall
black upon black
grey upon grey
deeper and deeper
the water is at my ankles
sinking now
into putrid sludge of what I do not want to remember
swept into the dark ocean cave
of my mind
Attie May 2019
Always be on the lookout
In case someone sees you holding your girlfriends hand
Be wary of those who claim that god loves everyone but objectify you for your sexuality
Always maintain your composure when someone mentions the idea of your sexuality being a ‘kink’
And finally find your people
The ones who offer a rope down the dark well that is your mind
The ones who give you light
The ones who uplift

They tell you to not give in
And so far I haven’t
For that I am proud
627 · Feb 2018
what's on your canvas?
Attie Feb 2018
as a child i believed in monsters
and innocence
but i have learnt
over my years
that life isn't all sunshine and rainbows
we are canvases marked in colour
from our experiences
some darker than others
some lighter
but all of those brush strokes  
are a picture of beauty
our highs
and lows
acrylic on graphite
soft pastel hues
on angry slashes of colour
water colour wishes and charcoal sorrows
613 · Nov 2016
I Am
Attie Nov 2016
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.
I wonder about the stars, burning meteorites that are slowly sizzling out.
I hear the clock, a sound of wasted moments in time tick, tick, ticking.
I see the good in people no matter whom; human beings do things for a reason wether its love, fear or safety.
I want to feel comfortable in my skin and for my brain to be able to come up for air.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

I pretend to stay calm while inside my mind the whirring windmill keeps turning.
I feel the need to be like a flower opening myself up to the suns positivity and blocking out the negatives.
I touch the little bird nestled in my chest urging it to fly to freedom.
I worry for events that may never happen riding the wave of panic until it dwindles.
I cry for moments where I didn’t take the leap, times of fear that limited me.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

I understand that it won’t always be ok and that during these times the little bird may falter.
I say that it’s going to be alright and that this moment shall pass.
I dream of the day the little bird finds its wings, finally taking flight.
I try to inspire others, teaching them to find their inner birds.
I hope to someday inspire others, to make a world of birds free to fly.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.
580 · Aug 2017
the curvature of your spine
Attie Aug 2017
I study the curvature of your spine
and the lines of your body

glances that last no more than a
couple of seconds

glances that are unbeknownst to you
fighting the internal battle

I have two armies

ready for all out war
red versus blue

heart versus mind
their bullets leave

holes in my soul
healing only to

be re opened again
for you are a

warrior of your own kind
weathered down by the

corrosive waters that
we call life

you have two stones on
your shoulders

and a library of books
resting on your spine

and i want to carry them
for you

because darling you are a
beautiful rose

with thorns like two sided

made to keep people out
and to keep you inside

the prison you call your

unable to prune those thorns
i can only study

the ever growing shadows
under your eyes

and the dryness of
your lips

you built a plaster cast
over your most vulnerable parts

waiting for the person
who will fight the pain

of pruning your thorns
for darling

you are a shell of what
you once were

and all i can do is watch
you recede into yourself
553 · Jun 2019
Attie Jun 2019
I want to slash at my skin with the same intensity that the beehive in my skeletal frame has when the worker bees attempt to seal all the broken parts of me sickly sweet

I want to scream so that It goes hoarse because if I’m not being heard what’s the point of having one anyway

I want to take the weight of their spines lift the broken onto my shoulders so that the shrapnel embedded feet they own no longer have to sink deeper
Embedded further

I want to feel love like the love my parents have in the subtle ways  that they check in on each other
In the small favours, they do for each other

More so

I want to hear her voice say the words I have always longed to hear the words that I know won’t be said the words that are difficult to comprehend
535 · Sep 2017
Attie Sep 2017
the bed feels like an ocean
your body writhes upon it

giant squid tentacles
winding up from the inky depths

locking around your ankle
rendering the limb useless
an anchor in your dreams

dreams of masked figures
with nets bottling your hopes
and dreams

for their own sick pleasures
put on shelves and made
into a roadside freak show

words like venom
and jeering laughter
nigh time dreamers chained in reality

differences scorned upon
physical or mental

cries of upheaval and revolution
from those that are followed by the
black dog

those that are like rag dolls
trapped in the shell that is
their body
unable to lift their heads

the smothering and stifling cloak
of panic worn by those who suffer anxiety

the grey storm cloud of acid rain
and icy bullets
hovering over the depressed

they are not broken
only flawed

in this world
no one is without flaws

insecurities and fear
keep our mouths shut
locked with heavy iron padlocks

weighing the wearer down
518 · Nov 2017
Attie Nov 2017
my hands demand to feel your skin
feather light touches
but our line is so thin
i use my own as crutches
443 · Aug 2018
Attie Aug 2018
I have done it again
I want to tear at my skin
I want to feel clean again
It coats my skin like dried nightmare induced sweat
yearning, reaching and shimmering
just out of my reach
It is a mirage
A trick on my mind
that sends all rational
out of the gaping, broken window
the shame-inducing sensation
fill my lungs with concrete
a frozen breath
unable to escape
the pain is a sharp distraction
acting as a reminder every time my sleeve brushes against it
I need help
442 · Aug 2019
Ideal World
Attie Aug 2019
If someone were to ask me
what my ideal world would be
I wouldn't be able to answer.

There are no words to describe
how the rain fell that night
the bitter sting of hail on bare skin
summer attire.

That moment
that memory
is what my ideal world would be.

The overwhelming sensations
the sting of the harsh wind
the fireworks exploding behind my eyes as our lips touched.
442 · Aug 2019
Let us go into the field
Attie Aug 2019
Let us go into the field
where peonies bloom and the dappled sun hits our skin

Let us go into the field
where kisses are akin to blossoms in spring

Let us go into the field
where the apples of our relationship lay untouched and protected

Let us go into the field
where even on the slate grey rain kind of days we can lie together

Let us go into the field
where our story began and our complication began

Let us go into the field
where we can repair the torn seams in the fabric that was us

Let us go into the field...
430 · Jul 2019
Attie Jul 2019
The ache in my stomach motivates me to keep going
The steadily decreasing number on the scale makes the hunger pains and sleepless nights, the bruises on my vertebrae

I slip up
I cry
The walls close in

The cycle starts again
Attie Jul 2018
he takes another drink from the brown bottle
his eyes inflamed and angry
broken yellowed teeth and cigarette butts
an angry man
stained  t-shirts
Lingering nicotine
a hopeless man
he's hurt again
the war broke him
gunshots still echo
Dust so thick you cannot see
the divorce broke him
A shell of a man
A wild man
but I can see him
in the cracks on his porcelain skin
The alcohol no longer seems to be running from his mouth
Convulsions have stopped
I can see his light
being born again
sometimes to help someone heal you have to make them take the first step
414 · Mar 2018
morbid confetti
Attie Mar 2018
can i turn back time
and start again
drown me in holy water
cleansing me from the inside out
let the ashes of my form
float like morbid confetti
over me
opening my mouth to catch
the part of me that
i once held dear
my blackened fingertips
reaching for the universe
hoping one day i can be
a part of that ageless space
drifting in a place i call
the neon hands of fate
just an inch away
but the gravity of my situation
pulls me deeper
in the sea of my consiousness
412 · Jan 2020
Attie Jan 2020




                             ­          Spiralling



  ­                                                         Slowly




402 · Jul 2017
Attie Jul 2017
She walked on coals to feel the warmth, the warmth that had been stolen from her soul. Flint against steel, sparks dying . Burnt fingertips and blistered skin.

Then she found the one to build up her fire, the one who had the power to produce flames through their hands. Igniting the spots their fingertips touched.

But then the fire was gone, stolen heat burning her from the inside out. Stifling heat overtaking her mind and soul.

Too much to bear, she extinguished her flame. Only ash, no more burns.

No more kindling.
399 · Aug 2019
A haiku about dreams
Attie Aug 2019
I dream of gold skies

A heart that is full of light

Lost in life's messy events
387 · Jul 2017
Modelling Clay
Attie Jul 2017
Skin that is not my own

Hunched shoulders and stifling bones

Bound chests turned to modelling clay

Scars  l e f  t  on skin

Gone and born again
382 · Aug 2017
Music box hearts
Attie Aug 2017
my heart is a music box
waiting for the person
the person who is the holder of its key

melodic and slightly jarring
i draw people in
hoping that the key i hold

will unlock their heart
like the ballerina on her stage

I hope we will be like her
glued to each other

turning the key and letting
our melody ring

always knowing the way home
359 · Sep 2017
Attie Sep 2017
i follow the the misty pathway
in the hopes that it will lead me to you
my internal compass
forget true north
it only points to you
a direction i have carved into my mind
like the hearts that teenage lovers
carve into trees
343 · Aug 2017
a letter to my love #4
Attie Aug 2017
if only your watercolour
could stain my hands

a residual mark
of the love that we could share

but all i'm left to do
is dream of something

that isn't there
342 · Apr 2018
Untitled 1
Attie Apr 2018
My fingers ache to reach over the table
To caress your oh so wavy hair
Short and soft
Your embrace is a wooden blanket
On a fourteen degree day
Thawing the parts of my soul that have been
Frozen and parched
Are a blistering heat
Compatible like two pieces
Of a puzzle
I know you do not feel the same
That ache I have
For you alone
Cannot be returned
I only watch from
Hoping one day
If I wait that little bit longer
That you may notice
The girl that stands by you
In times of need  
You are worth all of this and more
Nothing compares to you and your laugh or the way your hugs seem to be supercharged
Life giving even
340 · Aug 2017
words i will never say #1
Attie Aug 2017
you looked good today
and i had to fight the urge

to tell you right then and there
when the shirt you wore rode up

revealing the pale unblemished
canvas of your skin
339 · Aug 2017
Attie Aug 2017
the landmine that is life
making hardened skin and
calloused hands
339 · Nov 2017
Attie Nov 2017
I am  a coward
I cannot stand tall
when words are thrown my way
and I am not very good at confrontation
due to the fact that my heart is too exposed
in  its cage that is my chest


a rhythm I know to well
add in the short breaths


of a clock inside my head
a soundtrack that is my own
different from the rest
328 · Aug 2019
5 kilograms
Attie Aug 2019
I have gained five  kilograms

My brain is buzzing

I need it to go

I just want to disappear

Make myself small

Find me in the space between strength and frailty

Strong yet weak
314 · Sep 2018
Attie Sep 2018
it started in your bones
it ended in your heart
I miss your bright smile
I miss your cackling laugh
they told you it was time to say your last goodbyes
what do you do when your loved one dies?
you were a supernova in a world of stars
embracing everything that fell into your arms
the pears in the bathroom
the stuffed tigers on the shelf
its the story of my childhood
you taught me to love myself
an armchair and a gentle man
a woman full of joy
a godmother me
a  bakery near my home
the years grow in length, time passes
you're still gone
I haven't seen you in a while, I can't bring myself to see
the stone anchored in the ground where your head would be
do you still see us?
up in that heavenly place
do you still bless us, with your heavenly grace
I still message your phone
though I know you won't receive it
I can't bring myself to believe it
I've got the photos, the videos, and the proof
of a beautiful existence
but it's with a heavy heart that I say you're gone
it's not fair that you left so soon
so I close my eyes
and imagine you're in the room
307 · Nov 2017
Attie Nov 2017
no matter how hard i try

how many times i wash my hands

how many times i check the expiration date

how many times i knock on wood

                    five times five


                    five times five


                    five times five


                five times five
                             five times five...
Attie Dec 2019
I drip viscous honey from my lips
Soothing those who are broken

But when does the honey run out?
I feel as if manuka isn't always enough

When the hole inside of someone is all-consuming
When it cannot be filled

When a person fills the void with acrid bitter substances
Chasing the euphoria

We walk through life with honey dripping from our lips
302 · Sep 2017
stolen voice
Attie Sep 2017
mouth open wide

stolen voice

and torched lips
Attie Jun 2018
we are the dreamers
we are the lost people
wanting a light to guide
but unless
we riot and
fight for our rights
we can do nothing
you see
it takes an army
to win a war
but it can only
take one voice to
make an impact
Martin Luther King Jr
did just that
but why is it that in our
today can't stand up for what's ours
when a man
who had so little did so much
we need to take a stand to make what has the gone wrong right and it will be hard but to save what little humanity is left we must do so.
293 · Feb 2019
Attie Feb 2019
As I lay under sheets
My skin prickles
at the thought of your travelling hands
leaving a burn in all the points contact is made
at least that's would it feels like to me

what do the glances and shy touches do to you?
do you feel that same burn
that same sound of blood rushing through your ears when I'm around?

or do you feel nothing at all
in the heavy darkness when our breaths mingle
intertwined limbs and butterfly kisses against cheeks

the solidity of you grounds me in this world
I am reliant
on the brushing of hands when we cross each other's paths
the stolen glances across the room
more so,
the ever growing tension

I don't tell you these things
because I know that
the nature of our relationship is
strictly platonic
275 · Nov 2017
Attie Nov 2017
my skin burns at the thought of your fingertips
molten lava inside my veins
parched lips wanting you...
269 · Nov 2017
Attie Nov 2017
the orchids have withered
the heat is here
and much like the orchid '
i have too much to bare
264 · Dec 2019
Social Comparison
Attie Dec 2019
I wish I were as gorgeous as her,
I'm her opposite

Rib cage like a python
Too pale

Frozen hands
Continuous tremors

I know I shouldn't eat
I'll feel guilty later

"You look great!", they say
I don't feel great

I feel empty
A hole inside my chest

The hunger pains progressing
I'm ok

Just a few more
263 · Aug 2018
Puckered skin
Attie Aug 2018
The puckered skin is healing
it will stain my skin
like the other two
reminders of the shame I felt
the pain inside
and the war that was going on in my head
The puckered skin is healing
raw skin showing
pink in colour
soft to the touch
The puckered skin reopens
spilling its content
emptying my mind
startling clarity
The puckered skin reminds me
of days where I felt the world was against me
of days where my heart and mind were too full
filling me with a fire I could not extinguish
The puckered skin will heal
The puckered skin will heal
The puckered skin will heal
and once again
my heart will spill
ovals of puckered sin
ovals of puckered skin
262 · Feb 2018
never be enough
Attie Feb 2018
i carve my body into your ideal shell
but no matter how hard i try

it will never be enough for you...
259 · Jun 2018
One Voice
Attie Jun 2018
I am not the person I once was...

my skeleton has been molded to what society expects of me

my mind has mastered the art of secrets holding what I truly feel

my hands are worn down from gripping bed sheets in the middle of the night

afraid to


because the dark is not my friend

I am afraid of falling prey to those who dwell in the night

when in reality it is my mind

my a b s o l u t e  fear that feeds them

but no matter how hard I try


oh, I  t r y

I cannot overcome this
254 · Aug 2018
Attie Aug 2018
when I get stuck in my own thoughts
deeper and deeper into my own head
the compulsions become stronger
five times five times five
I repeat until it feels alright
until the iron vest on my chest loosens
until my hands bleed from overwashing
I'm finally clean
until I slip further
and further again
254 · May 2017
The shell I'm in
Attie May 2017
Your pink mouth screaming at me to get out, my ragged breaths as I ran up the stairs.

Why oh why did God make me this way if I was a mistake?

My aching heart drags my heavy feet onward, the rain soaks my already numb body.

Why was I born this way?

The lit up building like a beacon, a smiling face a listening ear.

They tell me i'm not broken or weird, they tell me that I am normal and that there are others like me.

They are a samaritan on a dirt road that seems as if it will lead to nowhere, picking me up from the ditch that is my soul.

It's on the first day I meet them, just like me they too feel like they're  in the wrong shell.

I tell them that I am a snake wanting to shed my skin but the angry and hurtful words glue my skin onto my too loud skeleton like a cocoon.

They offer words of support and a welcome environment, they are like the family that I and many others never had.

It is after my first month there that I get a job, a job that can help me on my journey. It is also here that they call me by my true name.

My mind and body are making a peace treaty, an alliance of my sanity. I learn to love ‘me’.

No longer a he and now a she.

      I am finally free to be me.

           Love and faith are the keys.

               For I am finally free
253 · Nov 2017
Attie Nov 2017
your words like silk run into my ears

hypnotising me to do what you please

because when i am around you your very presence turns me into a

wet rag incapable of holding my body up

my brain turns to mush

my words turn to breathless gibberish

and all i can see is you
247 · Aug 2017
a letter to my love #1
Attie Aug 2017
we all have different brush strokes
on the canvas of our lives

and how wonderful it would be
if you added one to mine
240 · Feb 2018
Lost Boy
Attie Feb 2018
lost boy where do you go
when the sun is hiding
lost boy
you say your'e alone
but you aren't willing to let your fear go
lost boy
i hope you know that i will be here
and won't let go
lost boy
i see the black crow
latched onto your weakened soul
lost boy
that crow he tells you so
that if you go no one will know
lost boy
i hate that crow
232 · Nov 2017
monster boy 4
Attie Nov 2017
His FIRE GIRL turned to

                                           Ash her spark was all but




230 · Aug 2017
a letter to my love #3
Attie Aug 2017
the watercolour bleeding
into acrylic vermillion paint

the brush strokes of our lives
blending to create

a beautiful piece of art
made by our own two hands
220 · Aug 2017
a letter to my love #2
Attie Aug 2017
a brush stroke made to promise
our vow to stay alive

a pact to help each other
when no one else would even try
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