I have bruises like amethyst
But the truth is I’m the catalyst
When I see colours of bismuth
I know you mean business
Bruises like amethyst
But you say you’re a pacifist
An analyst an activist

But you held my mind so it contorts, distorts
And aborts so it can’t resonate or fabricate
Or rationalise a world inside
That doesn't exist and insists
That I can’t be kissed and won’t be missed

I've got a black heart like tourmaline
But I'm the alkaline to your acid time
Trust me I am fine, I'm a pale blue
Crystalline Structural perfection
Don’t need your affection or your ways
Of objections did my bra strap give you an
*******?  

You could say I'm a feminist
But I'm more of a scientist
Busting body myths like biologist
You say ‘but **** are ****** organs’
Listen you morons, all ******* are a erogenous zone
Regardless of gender , boys nips literally have no purpose
Except when they get nervous for getting a little lip service

Trust me I'm fine, I'm a pale white crystalline
Structural perfection I don’t need your objection
Not a gem stone for your collar bone I don’t give a **** about
Your muscle tone, I'm a cyclone all alone I could spend a
1,000 years on my own.

it's been raining all day
and the trucks passing in heavy rain on the road behind
my little house
sounds an awful lot like the thunder
that dominates my little patch of sky

I have found soft soil in secret parts of your body
Pushed it back with my fingers, stuck underneath
My finger nails and unearthed lore of lands and
Spirits that run around and make me realises how much
I miss your stupid face when you’re not digging up my weeds

Beetles are just tiny black meteors
That tumbled from other galaxies
Sprouted legs and then began to trek round this planet
Making notes in their jotters about the weather and such
Checking charts and ticking boxes to confirm that
We'd ****** it all up here

My pens keep running out
I think I am too

I don't think I'm anyone's cup of tea
But I'm pretty such I'm someone else's 5th *****
I'm not a delicacy or a treat
I am home made pasta

magnetic kettles brew anhydrous storms
at four in the morning.

You're a pale blue crystalline
kissable atoms of structural perfection

I am the land that loves the sea
but it only hugs me when the wind blows
and loves me back out of chaos

i'm slowing beginning to see a pattern appear
in the form of the everyday actions i carry out
as i open my window to eavesdrop on the bushes
whispered conversations in the breeze
as i change the guard of mugs and glasses
that stand watch on my bedside table
as my room obsesses over mess and grows attached to dust
and cobwebs
as i swim in a thousand pots of tea
as the night meets me at our corner between dusk and darkness
as he does since every day.
riding his bicycle
stars chasing wildly after him
and we are reunited once again

forged into the sea
carved into the waves
chiselled into the moss
and welded to the days

combined with the skin
stitched into the sand
nailed through the mind
to bleed into the hand

The bobbles on my wrist itch
and tie
my hands as if
they were just
strands of
hair

it happened.
I fell in love with the sunrise again

i fell in the woods with no one around
and i did not make a sound.
i sat with my creators
and drank liquid the colour
of dark bismuth crystals.
and we all sat and agreed
that i was a spiralling formation
of natural chaos.

i think, in another life, we were forests
worshiping the seasons, or maybe we still are,

bound to the earth by roots

perhaps we were minerals and crystals deep underground,
and we may have retained the fear of being buried

or we could have been the wind or water
for we still whistle and bubble our way around this planet.

and we still howl in the ears of the living

i like to think, in another life, we were fire
because we burn an impression on these lands

and can still be an inferno even when reduced embers

an avalanche of tenderness
balanced precariously on the tip
on the back of the wild
the tidal grip of it
the wind of it explodes
across us.

the wavy air dances its
part with pale sand now purple
with the passions bruise.
the stolen slumber now pulses
through the nerves and roots like beads
of water to quench the mind.
the bud closed holds bark
and dandelion though ash and fire shall
soon spark the nature open.

Reading by the light of a burn
I'm smoking words

Don't wait for a catalyst be your own
Become best friends with yourself
And you'll never be alone.
Be an inferno
Be the wind
Be the poison in the dart
Dance with the universe and love it with all your heart

I'd forgotten how bright i can be
because i've been surrounded by the ugliest
orange stained fog.
Here it still lingers, licking at my fingers
and knees.
But here i'm so clear
against the deepest, quietest night.

South lake girls sitting in the trees

South lake girls falling from the stars

South lake girls bloodied

and struggling to breath

Birds are just crystals formed millions of years ago
Misplaced by the universe they seek a return to the place
Where the light dances off their amethyst feathers
And their rose quarts wings
Because inside gem and precious stone is a nebular
That is the exact colour that describes what flying feels like

this is about love and i hate it. this is ******* and blushing gushing words from my red cheeks maybe i mean both kind but that's between you and me and i love it. This is me saying this ******* awful poem and wanting to drink battery acid at how cliche it is. This is me probably not looking you in the eye in the audience because a. I will laugh and b. anxiety tells me not to just in case i accidentally activate my lazer death eyes and incinerate you and that would **** because I'd like to own a dog with you at some point. This is me, even though i tell you every day, telling you that you annoy the **** out of me and that you pronounce caramel wrong. its caramel not carmle you ******* reprobate. This is me saying yeah **** IT let him see the over emotional gremlin made of paint and trash who lives exclusively off sweet potato, crisps and whiskey. This is me taking off the mask for you, and the balacava, and the large duffle coat and thick gardening gloves and 8 pairs of leggings. this is me thanking you for being so patient as i cry in bed because i left lidl knowing full well the lady charged me wrong and i owe her money and i can never go back there again or show my face in public and also for all the other times i've cried in bed over dumb ****. How to train your dragon 2, the many times i've convinced myself im dying of insert terminal illness here, when you said I love you and I said 'what ever'. This is me being less of the pile of garbage i was before i met you. Now my bin bag has some fake jewels on it and its shiny and sparkly.

I'm not cut out for this
so i need some one to cut me out of it all
as if i was just a paper doll
like little alternate universes
i hope the rest of them are having
a better time than me
even though we're made of the same paper
i'm the end doll with only one hand grasped
the other reaches out
at the end of all the universes
and still there's no one there to hold it.