Do we ever stay strong?
Or do we fall,
To the ground,
Full of,
Dust.
Am I depressed or,
Just young man,
Full of,
Thoughts.
That’s where we felt it,
We’ll die,
Full of,
Thoughts...

...Or is it just a
Sociopathic life of,
Lust?

oh, darling, you love me like
fire loves trees-
destructive and pernicious

oh, darling, you love me like
oceans love shores-
fleetingly affectionate

oh, darling, when will you cease
this toxic interest?

The little red bike
That nobody rides
The child
who owns it,
Recently died

The world is a bunch
of ***** rats holding fast to
their scraps, engraving them with
their initials. Giving a speck,

expecting a bushel. And then
disparaging those that have more. That’s
how it goes when you’re looking for
compliments under a lamp light

that isn’t your own. Into the cold night
you ***** rats lose sight of anything
you can’t get your hands on.

When I see
a forget-me-not
it makes me think

I feel like you hold all of me
see all of me
but I'm heavy sometimes
and a lot to look at
I guess that's fine
you feel like an air balloon
but when you are not feeling warm
we start to fall toward the surface of the earth
your desire for me only present when you
want to look at it and make room for it
like you can feel the gravity of us
but its tacking energy you don't always feel like giving
why is it that I fall for those smart enough to see what I can give
but too tired to pour life into the dreams I show them
like knowing a unicorn exists
but horses are easier to take care of
eat less hay
they see that I am special but not as easy
why do I have to be less to be more palatable?
My ability to care for others makes my partners shrink
feel like guilt in not wanting to try like me
they don't want to love like that
This love is too much... energy and life and thought
they don't want to as bright as me
they just want to feel my fire
not to put energy into its light
I can't be less to ease your guilt
I can't be less to be easy
I can't be less for you
I can't be less
I can't

he had pockets of stones

so heavy his trousers

fell



first i met him small & wet from the river



dry he wore the white dress

his hair curled damply down his back



we filmed him

we photographed him



he is taller now & remains

much the same

As History falls
Onto his blood strewn path
He meets a Fork In The Road
Between Take
And Be Taken
So instead
He jumps into the Rabbit Hole
To stop Time
And repeat himself

I
am the crumpled up
rough draft girl
in the wastepaper basket
corner of my mind

she is the file
I deleted
after too many red lines
changed her meaning

this is not my final draft
I will throw myself away
again soon

This is me deciding that I am with it
My arms are the ocean
I
Am the sea of troubles
Biding my time at your feet
You crush sand dollars but
MY
Currency lies in unopened love letters and notes made of sand
This love falls apart in my hand
But I am birthing Venus
And this sea foam curls with my lips
I have snarled
And produced Beauty
My palms forgot how to smooth glass
And the water is glittering with fragments of you
But do you dare dive deep enough to see that you haven’t touched me?
I will not return whats left of you to the shore
I have taken whats mine and like I did with the foam like I did with the glass I will do to you
Turn something ugly into poetry
The ocean isn’t forgiving so thank god I am not that.

Why the anxiety over Brexit,
Guardian readers express their
concern, ******* I say to that.

Brexit comes, you go, no big
deal, it is the way of the world,
nature, migration, emigration.

Why whinge, no benefits, just
annoying people with the poor
mees, get on with it, or accept.