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 Aug 2014
Anne B
it’s the skin disease that is my sickness
It’s the red dots
                  (hurtings, blemishes, scars)
                         and not my face I see
It’s the
                                 d e s p e r a t i o n
                                  on display
                                  of my insecurities, and
  so it worsens my insecurities
  
The hermeneutic circle;
                                             fact is fact
So, on my face
       desperation is visible
                     sadness in my mind;
         emptiness in body;
— but explosions on my face
  That is all I see
       It's all
            I
                     am.
I am a
                    sickness.

**august 2014
Acne. What it does to me displayed. At least some of it.
 Jul 2014
Anne B
No similes
No metaphors
No allegories
No alliteration
No irony
No paradox
No rhythm, and no rhyme
No more stanzas
No more verses
Only
truth:
I miss you.

**2 8 . 0 7 . 1 4
It's not pretty. Why should poetry be a lie to that obvious truth? This is the truth; my body aches, and I think that writing will cure it away, forever. It won't. The world is ugly, so we should not cover up the truth.
 Jul 2014
Anne B
Step by step;
And stroke by stroke on your painting;
Throw it away
Word by word on your typewriter;
For every broken glass,
and the sound it made in your ears
Glass, so fragile
Shattering into thousands of pieces
So small and
so insignificant
For every breath you hold;
For every time you pull on your sunglasses and hope they won’t see;
For every time a branch pinches your legs when running and the little pain is a reliever;
You want more
You always want more
Breathe out;
But it doesn’t matter to anyone
You don’t matter
The pieces of you are scattered
and no one could hardly care
You’re so close to that fine line
You can’t help it
But you are almost crossing the bridge
You’d much rather fall over
But here you still
sit
writing poems
as if everything
was alright

**17.07.14
Trying to fill it. The emptiness. But pain creeps into that hole every time. Too bad.
 Jul 2014
Anne B
You said you read Nietzsche in ninth grade
I said
"How far deep down are you now, then"
And laughed it off
I had no idea I hit the nail of
the both of us
right there.

**19.07.14
I think we were happy together, but separately, we were still sad.
 Jun 2014
Anne B
Sometimes, I think
I could have been that girl
At first I thought I could have been the popular, pretty, pretentious
…                                                    ­        
I could be the centre
I walk past you and you could envy me;
I’m the one on the corner – the grey mouse

But as a grey mouse,
I think my perspectives have changed
I think I can see the faint contours of truth
Now

I was always an unusual girl
Given the circumstances;
I should have broken down
Long, long ago
If I had believed in fate -
My aspiration date was due
long, long ago

And I
could have been

I could have been the girl who stormed out of the classroom, crying
I could have been the girl aching every day; every minute
But my sickness had holidays
I could have been the girl crying herself to sleep, every night
I could have been the girl making red art on her arms
I could have been the thin girl
I could have been the girl crunched over the toilet-seat

I could be the saddest face you have ever seen
But hope is my great illusion and my illusions
are sometimes better than life

So, I created another world for myself
to live in
So, I sold my soul for this
So, I gave up everything
But I lost nothing

When the sun sets
I’m still here

When the sun goes up,
I’m still here

An apple is still an apple,
even if it’s
eaten up;
Even if it’s rotten

A human is still a human being
with one less limb
But now the human is less of a human
You see,
there’s a scale
you can’t see
Step on the scale
Step off

I’m still me –
Even now
One less dream
One more forged smile

Sometimes, I think I could have been so much more
I think I could have been whole
Maybe
If I was allowed to break down and cry
If I was allowed
to be
honest

To be that girl, a little while
Maybe I too -
Could be saved
?

**25.06.14
Oh well.
 Jun 2014
Anne B
The darkness will make you strong
I promise you
It won’t do you wrong
Then why do you sleep with the lights on?

They’ll all be gone
Once the nights are long
Darkness won’t do you wrong
Curtains are drawn
You are not asleep

Wetting your bed and then
staying up to weep
So that is life
Who knew growing up would offer such a mountain steep?
Again, again, again

Sleep
Let go of the kitchen knife
When the sun has set
all eyes are black
Now you see the night as a potential threat
Wishing for the light to come back
But wait –
Dawn break is coming
Meet your fate

Don’t you hate –
the memories, humming to a different song
A song you once tried suppress
Now you’re staring down at your life
It’s all a mess
Even so
Less
and
less


The glow
I guess,
Is not a shoe fit for your toe

Panic

Light covers everything;
Unwashed drawn curtains;
Midnight dances on the carpet;
Broken bottles;
Again, again, again
The kitchen knife;
Your broken bedside lamp;
Blood drops;
Wet cheeks;
- Everything the night covered up is brought into the light
Your wight can’t live in this sight
Can you follow?

So bright
Shut your eyes
You won’t have to fight
Daylight is not meant for your lie

"He's been dead for 48 hours," the police statement reads.

**19.06.14
I'm thinking the night is another kingdom.

I'm trying out rhyme for the first time. It feels sort of cheesy, but it flows good as well. Again: I'm sorry I tag. But I'd love some feedback.
 Jun 2014
Anne B
So, we pretend we are all right
Cold faces, cold streets, cold weather
Fast-paced
Hurry up, hurry up
Do something with your life, they yell

‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’
‘Old enough to go to bed whenever I want’
Slowly turning away from the dream;
Staying up all night was just another disappointment

Well, growing up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be
Growing up is being told ‘you’re too young’ by others
‘You can’t do it’ by your own mind
Wearing a smile and hoping for the best
Doing everything half-heartedly;
… even loving half-heartedly, and
suffering
no-heartedly

Just step all over me
With your big feet
Fast-paced and cold faces and something to do with your lives;
Crush me under your feet –
turning to dust.

**13.06.14
I'm trying to write. And I'm not watching the WC football matches.
 Jun 2014
Anne B
I don’t mind if I’m alone
I don’t mind if you throw me away
I don’t mind if they say you’re no good
I don’t mind if you go up and down
I don’t mind if you go away in your mind
I don’t mind if you are a scarred soul
I don’t mind if you tense when I ask you ‘why’
I don’t mind that you don’t fit in a group
I don’t mind that they talk about you
I don’t mind that you stroke my hair
I don’t mind your kisses
I don’t mind your own space
I don’t mind if you touch me
I don’t mind your warm hands
I don’t mind you
In fact, I don’t mind that your nose sometimes was in the way when I kissed you
I don’t mind that you didn’t meet me at the train station
I don’t mind the cold water between us
I don’t mind your wars
I don’t mind your peace
I don’t mind smile
I don’t mind how you laugh at my clumsiness
I don’t mind your presence in my life

What I do mind:
the sorrow you brought upon my kingdom
when you stopped singing and when you
stopped talking, and asked me to leave and
said ‘goodbye’

And I tensed.

**8.06.14
I don't know anymore.
 Jun 2014
Anne B
You have holes in your body
Lights leaking;
All of you,
washing out
into the darkness

Hurry, pick yourself up

*6.06.14
Don't let them get you.
 Jun 2014
Anne B
I’m on a train
People keep sleeping
Tossing their heads
Closing their eyes

It’s peculiar, truly
People's stories;
Countries with damp skies and damp, sweet, tickling rain;
Mountains and an elderly man with an umbrella,
wandering around the station
What are you looking for?

I remember my computer-generated wifi-password by heart
I have been travelling, running, up an down this country
the past months

Looking for safety
The ground below me was collapsing

The last time I was here I was travelling in the
opposite direction
Not from you – leaving you behind
To you

Only by duty am I forced to leave
I would have screamed out
"Don't say it, please"
What do I know?
I'm just a writer on a train
Clinging to people like magnets

All those clichés are over
Just as quickly as they happened
I think I knew
I think I should have known

Insomnia affecting my friends on facebook's chat
Logging on; signing off
Do you sleep safely now?

We are like inevitable frictions
Turned on; shut off
Close; far away
Warm, intertwining with my sweating feet; cold as blocks of ice

Close by force – far away in our minds

I go away in my own world as you consolidate your own troubles
I am a never-ending train of guilt, self-hatred and self-sacrifice
Stupid, trusting, kind but hostile of nature

Water running down the windows in a pattern of coincidences; ice in my mind
Fire in the hole!
Always a fire, they tell me
Is there a fire in you,
or just ashes?

You are a builder, afraid to stack too high
Trembling when I fall
But just reaching out to run away
So, now I stand here

No train;
No stations;

But there’s still life
But there’s still me
There’s still time and wars to be fought

That train will never stop
The sun also rises
Ice blocks too, must one day, melt

The water rises
We drown.


**6.06.14
Train ride from where I study, down home to my family for the summer vacation. It's raining just slightly. I wish you could see what I see.
 Jun 2014
Anne B
I was finding myself sleepless more often
And I was searching for something
A poem to write; words to scribble down; people to ****; joys to scatter…
Hopes to crush, maybe

Time to heal
Maybe not
Time to run away
Time to cope?


My heart crumbled into just the ***** pumping blood around my body;
like play, like something rehearsed;
completely like my life – structured and thought-over

I kept looking up at the ceiling and the light of my computer
All these ‘I’s and no ‘you’s
I was finding myself going mad, over you – the missing part
The music I played turned into cries for help
The lines I wrote were messy battlefields of abandonment and desperation
And I hated myself for it

All these news on my twitter timeline, and one new reply
All these people I live with and don’t know
These incomprehensible ****** expressions in the crowd; that piercing sound
All these faces I need to rehearse before leaving the bathroom
All these subjects and this language I can’t speak
Quick, back to the bathroom. I’m losing it

Don’t just think about yourself
Now, fall down to the floor like they do in the movies

Cry

It’s not as cool as in the movies – not as glamorous
Now, dry your tears, rise and breathe normally

For God’s sake then – just hold your breath
Let me count to a thousand
No, **** it
I don't want to do it

“Drink up and it’ll be better”
No, no
It get’s worse
The headaches and how I can’t walk straight – how is that better?

We’ll try again:
“He’s a *****.” “Yeah, I know.”
I still think he’s a good guy

But he’s not the problem
The problem is me;
and what he made me realise I am

Scream

I confess
Let me through, judge
Please
Yes, I swear to tell the truth and all of that now

It’s inside me
The monster is inside me
The sleepless nights; the endless poems and the tears hitting white unwritten papers
Judge, I have these convictions
“So you are a psychopath?”
No

(I hope I’m not)

I’m just a poor creature
I just think, and my thoughts are written down
I try, your honour
I try to stop them – try to fight them
But the words are law to me now

I do know they are not true
But I have been researching this field for my PhD thesis, you see
I have been finding no objections to my thesis
So I had to drop out and give up
It’s true
What the law has written

Your honour, I wish I could say it’s not true
But thus far, I have ended up alone
I have not been as good as I hoped

I feel no relation to people and my face has froze this way
I know I smile, and I know I laugh, and I know I talk
But I don’t understand

There is no one in the courtroom
But myself
There's just me - staring at myself
These are just mirrors
So I guess it’s true
The mirrors break

Scream

I’m walked out
In chains
To keep staring up at the ceiling
Keep staring at myself
Mirrors

Scream

I’m sorry I used up all my faith on coincidences
That time would heal wounds
Time is a punishment and time is all we have
Time and minds make us all go mad

In my eyes I am still my own hero
Still on a quest to find
safety, confidence and self-worth

Do it then
If you think that’s so impossible
Break a few other mirrors and see if anyone can hear them break

Scream

**5.06.14
Trying to explain how depression suddenly can catch you and force you down a tranquil road. This is how it feels for me.
 Jun 2014
Anne B
Shoulder to shoulder, we slept.
Face to face, we woke up.
And your face was peaceful then -
I'm sorry that this too,
*is a lie.
Meh.
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