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fiachra breac Nov 10
spiky heart
falling into my lap
pulling out the threads from my jumper on the way down

have you ever tasted the sting
of jagged love
as it finds the quickest way out?
Nov 5 · 188
I wouldn't worry too much,
mo chara,
it's not your greatest weakness.
Oct 23 · 55
when it drops
fiachra breac Oct 23
shards scatter outwards like stars,
spiralling away from the centre of your universe

finding rest in soft, pink flesh,
wriggling close to the
warm cavern in my chest.

brilliant blinding light
shimmers beneath the surface;

short, sharp, shocked
intake of breath:

“Destruction is a form of creation.”
Sep 10 · 145
fiachra breac Sep 10
dark clouds linger on the horizon,
you can just make them out.

summer, you've been


my head stops working. what words surmise the whole picture? how do I stay true to events, when my heart hurts? who am I really upset with? everyone else, or the wreck I see inside? this is a hard path to follow, I am long out of practice. I want goodness, wholeness, honesty - and that includes the sad and the difficult. I want Jesus. I don't want my volatility any longer,  and I know it's a journey, but goodness I long for its end.

I want to love those around me, even those keep making it difficult to. I want to be light and joy, not bitter and cruel. I need more God, and less conchúr... it is just taking a little while.


summer, you have been,
and whatever comes next,
I know where my anchor lies.

dark clouds linger on the horizon,
you can make it out of this alive.
a prayer? on another sleepless night.
Sep 8 · 90
protected by god.
who gave you the right
to collect other people’s misery?
heartaches and tears,
are not yours to own.

don’t you dare take my name,
it is yours no more;
not my life, not my soul,
not my home.

tá m’ainm! tá mo bhaile! tá m’anam seo!

with sweet voice,
and deft fingers,
you rewrite the pages,
to suit some plan of your own.

but my name? and his? and his?
our county, our place, our home?

stand upon your lonely ridge,
gaze down towards this fort,
and see:

taking others’ names is dangerous
when you don’t know what they mean.
Aug 21 · 462
fiachra breac Aug 21
falling in love with a hurricane,
isn't nearly as dramatic as it sounds
better to rip the plaster off now
fiachra breac Jul 26
I will never stand in the way
of who you want to be,
but if this is it,
I want to be free.

my heart cannot take anymore,
it is being pummelled from all sides.
but from you?
I can’t tell the truth from the lies.

you tell me I matter,
that you care,
that the only thing you want is that feeling - there -

caught in the moonlight,
wrapped in each other’s arms,
I fool myself in to believing
that this is what I want.

your love isn’t broken,
it’s simply on pause,
and I fear its resumption,
for I will be gone.

I can’t sneak round in shadows,
nor stand by your back,
while you **** me in secret,
and snort strangers’ crack.

don’t tell me you want me,
then take it back,
over and over,
because I think I have cracked.

my head is soup,
left on the boil.
my body is dead foliage,
rotting under the soil.
22ú meitheamh --> 26ú iúil
Jul 19 · 436
bean an fhairraige
fiachra breac Jul 19
today she is blue
and purple and green
and she wears glitter
beneath her skin

she comes close
only to run away
closer! to run away

but i will sit
(as always)
and watch her
dance that dance

(close far close far close far)

and smile
for i’ve yet to see
such beauty matched
anywhere in this world

and for it to come
so close to me
woman of glass. woman of the sea.
I spend nearly every waking moment
Thinking how you would find that thing funny
Or that thing sweet
Or that thing interesting.
fiachra breac Jun 22
you’re the only person I want to talk to,
but I hurt you too bad and now I have no one
please god help me
Jun 20 · 122
fiachra breac Jun 20
if I could
peel back the skin
from the top of my head
and crack open my skull
and reach inside,

I would pull out shards of
a woman made of Glass.

if I could
break open the covering
to my deepest fears and
truest hopes,

I fear the fingerprints
I would find lingering
on every part and piece
would erase themselves -
edit and change - cease.

if I could draw
the nameless stars
onto the inside of my eyes

and take your hand
and let your fingertips
trace the outline of my

if I could stab a straw
into the grey matter,
I would ask you drink it,
just so you could taste...

if I could open my veins,
and tie the bloodied strings
to your chest;

if I could hold your hand,
and feel our fingers
tangle and entwine;

if I could crack open my ribcage,
I would let you climb in;

if, if, if...
work in progress
Jun 17 · 99
an spás idir
fiachra breac Jun 17
Exisiting in yet another space between
Two worlds, two lives.
Searching for some new meaning -
Or running from old demons?

Trapped in the divide, between
This and that,
anseo agus ansin.

Torn, tattered, stuck in an lár:
Teanga, life, baile, love.

Falling to pieces

Clawing at - clawing at what’s left,
What is left?

Left is the eight months since you did -
Not that that affects me anymore
(He lies to himself),
It’s just a marker, a buoy -
keeps me on course.

Struggling to see what's right,
What is right?

"If it feels good..."
I am uncertain - but I don't feel peace.  
Conflicted, definitely, and yet I don’t cease

Meddling in things I have no right to meddle in:
lives and loves and people -
Human beings.

Can you not see the damage this will cause?
Not you, but those who you misuse -
You are an evil, twisted little boy

Trapped in this space between
Right and wrong;
My twisted actions and my convicted mind;
Him and me.
wor(l)ds blur into each other

i detest what i am yet i do nothing to suppress it


dated may 2018 // ó bealtaine 2018

strangely prophetic.
Jun 16 · 138
fiachra breac Jun 16
I need to be better
Jun 15 · 136
abandon me, then,
fiachra breac Jun 15
for how was I to know
what I was never told?
Jun 15 · 228
fiachra breac Jun 15
bhí coinne agam anocht,
chuaigh muid go Lus na Gréine.
bhí sí go hiontach.

labhraimid le chéile,
faoi gach rud agus níos mó.
bhí sí go hiontach.

tá sásta orm.
Jun 12 · 129
fiachra breac Jun 12
this is not a game I enjoy playing
yet with every new month
I seem to get drafted in for one more round.

the team is familiar -
well, isn’t it always?
same faces, same bodies, same minds.

some months we swap places,
and friend becomes foe,
treading the same well-worn earth
we have all grown so accustomed to.

some months we draw crowds,
(who can resist? what colourful,
lively displays!)

some months we draw pity
(for who would watch the pitiful playtime
of university educated adults),

but one thing is guaranteed -
from the game is set in motion,
till the results are declared -
we will always,
draw blood.
ah, the usual spectacle returns for another jam packed instalment.

see how grown up we all are! we neglect to communicate our feelings! look at our primmed and preemed words, scattered across many corners of the internet.

missed the action? fear not! the official soundtrack is COMING SOON (to a Bitter End near you). track after track of carefully constructed vitriol and bile, hand picked to reopen closing wounds. why waste a plaster, when you can pour vinegar into open sores?

music not your thing? no problem! read all about it with wildly differing perspectives and cheap hot takes; simply disengage your humanity and log on to the social media platform of your choosing. believe me, we’re all doing it.

and if modernity isn’t your speed, simply inform the same network of people immediately and watch as a molehill shoots to the top of every cartographer’s priority list.

you will be shocked, awed, and entertained. you will see tears, heartbreak, and jibes. and just when you think it can’t get any better, a few weeks from now, the process will start all over again as the next game gets underway...
fiachra breac Jun 10
"words mean nothing," you hope -
in your anger, bile, and tears.

you've poured out your heart
with paper, and pen, and keyboard, and playlist, and life.

moulding great civilisations and intricate portraits and new lives and companions and loves.

you sew yourself together,
scattered fragments from your terror,
weaving a tapestry to replace your skin.

peel off the layers,
scrape away your pain

patching up wounds with words:
bandages from poems,
dressings from that play.

burn, burn bright as the stars in the sky -
distant and dying and alone.

shine, shine like that light on your desk...


you edit, and change
constantly revising
the story in your head -

and I think that's okay.
december 3rd 2018 // nollaig 3ú 2018

song lyrics?
Jun 10 · 54
(not yet) the end
fiachra breac Jun 10
of my life
of my meaning
of anything worth having.

I was not,
nor will I ever be,
good enough for you.

you are my best friend,
the person I would lay down everything for,

here i am,
having failed you
because I will  never be
(nor have I ever been)
good enough for you.

to you
words mean nothing,
yet to you,
words mean everything

ah I see
I see
I see
May 28 · 94
haiku gaelach
fiachra breac May 28
laethanta sásta,
botharanna salach ‘s
éan orágamaí
happy days,
grubby roads and
an origami bird
May 22 · 148
fiachra breac May 22
teanga álainn
san aer.

ar gach taobh:

daoine áille
tír gálanta.

mo shúile druidte -

tarraingím anáil dhomhain:

diolch, agues go raibh maith agaibh a Bhreatain Bheag
May 15 · 118
fiachra breac May 15
bruised sky,
heavy clouds,
swollen with summer rain.

carry me,
into the earth,
where there is no more pain.
bruised heart.
concrete friendships crumbled.
am I just a wave across a street?
May 11 · 147
rud a dó
fiachra breac May 11
anocht, d'ithim dinnéar le chairde:
bhí áthas orm! rinne mé dearmad orm féin.
May 10 · 122
rud a haon
fiachra breac May 10
scríobhfaidh mé rud gaelach gach lá,
fiú má tá drochghaeilge,
agus fiú má nach mhaith liom.

mar sin, tá mo theanga seo,
's úsaidim í!
May 2 · 163
note to self
look outside yourself
for twenty minutes,

breathe in the creation
find some inspiration.

not content to sit idly by
while the world speeds past:

green and grey and beautiful -
sodden with yesterday’s life
dropping off leaves and
into open collars.

leaky futures flood across
the backside of our minds.

cascade -
gently at first:

a trickle, a dribble,
a hand to hold.

lay down those sweaty palms
dry the crease of your smile,
for the world is full of wonder
if you stay for a while.
ó ag siúl abhaile inné
Apr 23 · 299
fiachra breac Apr 23
soaring peacefully,
far above our heads.

you keen and dive,
move and shake,
you dance.

careful now -
don't let go,
keep the string firm in your grasp

she is strong,
and she pulls hard -
lifting us up from our feet.

o! to be a ribbon,
fluttering in your breeze,
swirling and twirling beneath
your gaze.

o! to feel the tug
of that thin white line,
wrenching us forward,
dragging us on -

tied to the pit of my stomach,
you yank what's left of my insides out
Apr 13 · 1.6k
soft, sweet spring night
fiachra breac Apr 13
oh but for a moment of sweet, foolish fun.

smouldering coals glow bright
with gentle touch.

a moment of young, lovely bliss,

a kiss shared -
a real one,
not the farce of hours prior -
from one who is interested.

conversation spills out,
and with it,
admiration, affinity,
some sense of belonging.

silly things, not heavy,
but light.
float above the damp night grass -
soar amongst the clouds gathering above.

push past the smoking remains of
the fire

up the stairs

laughter, smiles, warm skin

nobody's business but ours
nobody's business but ours... a kind face and listening ear
Mar 5 · 424
I was content being the vessel.
Feb 16 · 565
dust (part ii)
fiachra breac Feb 16
where i let dust gather
(on the Word that breathes life)
i let myself become another:

broken, and twisted, and strange.
darkness coursing through my veins,
i slipped into a slumber,

into someone else's arms
and someone else's bed,
i crept - seeking what i once had.

now, as the Son rises in my life,
reclaiming what is his,
slaying the darkness again,

i find myself shocked,
by how much I had let the dust cover.
god, save me. I need you.

as you lift the scales from my eyes, to look upwards to your Son, I can see this past year stretched out behind me. I am angry at what I let myself become.

show me how to know that I am forgiven, because at the moment all I feel is shame, and that's not what I am called to. please release me from this, and let me be full of your joy and peace.

my little heart is aching, and I just need you Jesus
Feb 14 · 303
off guard
fiachra breac Feb 14

you're dead now -

i wasn't ready.
I should have visited you.
Eight months...

Selfish, pathetic little boy.
Feb 12 · 134
fiachra breac Feb 12
this is a start

time to rebuild and heal
time to return to my God
time to be love and life for people

no more confusion, no more angst

time for decisions and responsibility
time to grow up all over again
not for anyone else; not because I think it will win me any hearts back;  not to stop people worrying; not to do better in uni... this time, I want to get better because I want to get better. I feel a lightness, it is. strange and thrilling
Feb 11 · 368
fiachra breac Feb 11
i’ll admit,
it feels a little like blackmail
when you say the things you say

i know you don’t mean it
but god, it hurts
Feb 1 · 102
it’s a knife twisting slowly in my gut.
it’s the floor vanishing underneath me.

broken apologies bubble out of my mouth,
passions unfettered and emotions confused.
where sweetness blossomed,
a bitter taste is left.

foot tangled in my own net,
pushing, pulling, struggling -
but only really constricting.

panic swirls in my chest,
a sourness in my throat,
waves crashing around my head.
down, down, deep into the pit,
weighed down by blind stupidity.
Feb 1 · 175
"pull me close, i promise i won't bite,"
whispered the razor from the cabinet,
"kiss? little kiss? small kiss for an old friend?
i hear you're into that these days."

"i really shouldn't," i reply, "i made a promise..."

let it out

clean yourself up, scrub all the sin away,
let it drain into the shower basin -
cleaning, removing, making right!

warm and bubbling over, not too hot,
not yet

hair in plug hole.
water isn't draining.

standing in filth. standing in sin.
look! look! you can see it!
it's all soapy and congealing!
rose-tinted bubbles and London grime!

"hey, we've still got that old spark," flashing a grin

"i guess we do," i reply,
the heat already becoming unbearable under my broken skin
Jan 4 · 810
scatter my body among the stars

let me float nameless in the sky

so your eyes may never know me

and your mind will be whole and free

but I’ll feel your gaze

burning bright (as always as always)

from your bench in the garden

giving me whatever meaning you decide
Dec 2018 · 239
Dec 2018 · 1.2k
fiachra breac Dec 2018
never content:
withholding love out of what?
fear? envy? greed? sadness?

how i long for peace, stability and change...

a constant contradiction. barreling from heart to heart -
never finding ground long enough to lose myself
in someone else’s arms.

feelings stronger after i tear them out.

have to look at them in the air in front of my eyes.
bleeding, dripping their blood on the carpet,
heart beating in my hands.
to be clinically inspected and torn apart
only to discover that this was what i wanted all along.

like a tree, felled to tell its age,
dead, but finally understood.
too late to say,
“ah! look how old it’s branches, how deep its roots, how wonderful it’s shade!”

dead. dead and decomposing on the floor.

will i always glorify love lost over love in front of my eyes?
an outburst found in my notes. dated 3rd nov 2018. I will wreck this, and it will be hell.
Nov 2018 · 240
an unsteady goodbye?
fiachra breac Nov 2018
why does it feel this way
when I hear the songs you write

and why does it cut me so
to think of a lifetime of lost nights

by your side
by your side
by your side
Oct 2018 · 4.0k
fiachra breac Oct 2018
emotions collide in great crashing waves
as I career from sea to land to bed.
head full of static,
perpetually stuck
between channels.
white noise drenching
my soul in
rich and vibrant grey.

faint images trace across
my faulty mind,
and, for a second,
I catch a glimpse of —
a line must be drawn,
and it is here I must decide,

upon which pillow to lay my head.
I am not ready for this yet.
Sep 2018 · 358
is peacach mé
fiachra breac Sep 2018
hell is not hot enough
nor the abyss deep enough
to hide the ugliness of my sin -

so vast, so cruel, so sinister:
by my hand, I bring torment;
by my words, I scramble to justify:

"I- I am sorry,"
"I wish I hadn't,"
"I never meant this."

If it were true you would have never ******* done it,
yet here we are,
as always,
in wreckage,
you selfish, horrible little boy.
Aug 2018 · 201
fiachra breac Aug 2018
that I feel like this
with you

because that is all supposed to be passed
yet I can’t help it:
when you laugh and you smile
and you dance and you talk.

sorry mo chara, I know I am foolish,
but for these nights, I can’t help
but hope each one won’t be the last
Aug 2018 · 1.1k
flash flood
fiachra breac Aug 2018
oh to sink into the earth!
sodden and rancid with rain;
sagging under the weight
of too much
after too long. Drowning,
under more of the same
Jul 2018 · 350
fiachra breac Jul 2018
fiachra breac Jun 2018
midnight cries for help go unheeded,
***** little secrets remain unchecked.
regret, misery, disgust -
at what i have done
and who i have become
(who have i become?)
fiachra breac Jun 2018
Where once feelings lay,
Only strange copies remain.
The sense of what should be experienced
Or what is supposed to be felt.

A reflection of the original -
Twisted and distorted -
Not yet beyond recognition,
But increasingly hard to decipher.

Familiarity  - with this place -
Is all that marks its irregularity.
Knowledge that this has been before
Signals it is happening again.

A worrying trend, when abnormality
Becomes the mundane.
You’d think that being depressed made you sad all the time but I’m not sad that often, merely empty. Blank and drifting between self-made disasters. I’m not sure if I orchestrate them so that I achieve maximum pain or if they just happen that way because I’m a **** person.

I’d like it all to stop now please.
Jun 2018 · 185
fiachra breac Jun 2018
how easy to fall
into old patterns
******* Conchúr
May 2018 · 611
the things i can't show you
fiachra breac May 2018
you consume my every thought,
burning your image across my mind
and setting my soul on fire.

i feel free by your side -
in your arms, under you,
caught in your embrace.

we will blaze bright
into the night time sky
and though our time is short,
the passion, the feeling, the liberty
will outlast our very selves., bothered, fascinated by your mind
May 2018 · 372
mo croí bhriste
fiachra breac May 2018
is mo croí theanga í,
is an t-anam ó t-am dearmadta
gur ní cuimhnigh mé.

tá sé bhriste 's,
ach is breá liom í fos

mar sin,
is mo bhaile í
agus tiocfaidh an lá
nuair tá mo theanga agam
my broken heart

it is my heart's language,
it is the soul forgotten in time,
that i cannot remember.

it is broken and,
but i love it still

it is my home,
and the day is coming,
when i will have my tongue.
I feel at home in a language my ancestors lost. I feel safe in words that don't come easy. I found peace and hope and healing in the seemingly strange sounds of my native tongue, and I will reclaim it, for myself, and my peers, and the generations who follow, because it is beautiful and it is ours.
May 2018 · 310
fiachra breac May 2018
soft lights, warm skin, our moans -
we steal breaths from the space between
our chests

just you, and me, and the fleeting feeling
of freedom or peace or passion
to be each other
...sleepy smiles and gentle words
May 2018 · 281
fiachra breac May 2018
anois, anois,
it's not that bad

níl sé a lan dona,
ach gearr mé fhein
May 2018 · 472
fiachra breac May 2018
it wouldn’t be like me to
be travelling on yet another
train, across yet another
country to visit friends
They feature awfully heavily in my life as I travel to meet those I care about most
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