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327 · Apr 2020
4.4.2020
fiachra breac Apr 2020
when I was growing up,
our hallway had the most peculiar floor:
not quite carpet,
not quite planks,
but something in between.

like a wicker basket
stretched out over several metres,
or the rope you find
dangling off a dinghy's mooring,

it scratched and screened
at the soles of your feet,
tickling and tormenting
bare toes or
pulling the threads out of
well-meaning pairs of socks.

I hated it, or at least,
I thought I did —
until the day it was replaced by
laminate panels.

fake wood didn't cut it,
neither would expensive pile,
or any scraggly synthetic offering
to do the trick.

our painful, hessian homecoming
was a path to beds, and tables,
and welcoming arms.

it marked a definite departure
from sensible carpets and
suitable floors,
to the place between comforts.

for who would dally in a hallway that hurt?
or who would pause to feel the prickling,
pinching of strange interior decor?

of course, sense prevailed —
wood would come,
wood would stay,

and our peculiar, prickly past,
would become a story for some other day.
fiachra breac Mar 2018
And things had never been so good!
Well, that's what I was supposed to say.

I had broken months before,
But I was too frightened to let you in.
So as we came together,
Something else joined us there.

I'm afraid that I went first,
and strayed further than we meant to,
But something took a hold of us,
And suddenly we were spiralling

Further and further from our intended path
until we crash-landed:
bodies, exposed,
souls, in tatters,
us, in ruin.
I don't really know what happened to me in Kiwoko - I fear I never will, but Sasha I am so sorry for the person I returned as. Long distance was harder than I expected and I wish I had been better for you. I should have listened to you and your mum, and just come home, but I didn't, and I paid the price for that when we went too far and it broke us apart.
317 · Dec 2018
____
315 · May 2018
you, i, but
fiachra breac May 2018
you are gone but fragments remain -
lodged in my eyes, catching my throat,
digging deep into my chest.

i cover up; laughter and smiles
and bad jokes and new music
and new interests and new people
and new plans and new futures

but those old pieces of you remain -
buried behind my moans, my groans,
tied tightly to the back wall of my brain.
it's a weird ol' brain time, ach tá a fhios agat fhéin.

working it out bit by bit.
313 · May 2019
pwllheli
fiachra breac May 2019
teanga álainn
san aer.

ar gach taobh:

daoine áille
agus
tír gálanta.

éistim,
mo shúile druidte -

tarraingím anáil dhomhain:

síochain
diolch, agues go raibh maith agaibh a Bhreatain Bheag
311 · Mar 2018
dear friend
fiachra breac Mar 2018
just know that as you drew me
(close)
you took a piece of my soul

and as you held me
(close)
I lost my heart in yours

so now we're at our close,
I will never again be quite
whole
*** is scary and I look back at our time together with fear.
friend, i hope you are okay
fiachra breac Jul 2019
I spend nearly every waking moment
Thinking how you would find that thing funny
Or that thing sweet
Or that thing interesting.
298 · May 2019
rud a dó
fiachra breac May 2019
anocht, d'ithim dinnéar le chairde:
bhí áthas orm! rinne mé dearmad orm féin.
280 · May 2019
note to self
fiachra breac May 2019
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
273 · Sep 2019
protected by god.
fiachra breac Sep 2019
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.
272 · Nov 2019
forgiveness
fiachra breac Nov 2019
I wouldn't worry too much,
mo chara,
it's not your greatest weakness.
268 · Feb 2019
leech
fiachra breac Feb 2019
"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
263 · Aug 2018
unexpected
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
258 · Jun 2019
an spás idir
fiachra breac Jun 2019
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.
253 · Jun 2019
abandon me, then,
fiachra breac Jun 2019
for how was I to know
what I was never told?
246 · Jun 2019
spórt
fiachra breac Jun 2019
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,
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...
244 · May 2019
rud a haon
fiachra breac May 2019
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!
235 · Jun 2018
.
fiachra breac Jun 2018
.
how easy to fall
into old patterns
******* Conchúr
233 · May 2019
haiku gaelach
fiachra breac May 2019
laethanta sásta,
botharanna salach ‘s
éan orágamaí
happy days,
grubby roads and
an origami bird
229 · May 2018
...
fiachra breac May 2018
...
She stood, with winter in her chest
And stars in her head.
226 · Jun 2019
briste
fiachra breac Jun 2019
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
thoughts;

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
216 · Feb 2019
tús
fiachra breac Feb 2019
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
fiachra breac Jul 2019
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
211 · Sep 2019
summary
fiachra breac Sep 2019
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.
fiachra breac Nov 2019
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?
206 · Feb 2019
dáthanna
fiachra breac Feb 2019
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.
206 · Oct 2020
tooth
fiachra breac Oct 2020
my tongue crawls back to the gap
where my tooth fell out;
passing by the rigid brace
permanently fixed to the back
of my incisors.

tracing stuffed bedrows
stained by Lagans of tea,
skipping the entrance,
afraid of the sea

change that takes place -
when you linger too long,
or the sharp, shooting pain
when probing goes wrong.

i avoided the dentist
(with her microscope stare)
and chose to dress it
with other (important) affairs.
my best friend got me drunk and tried to **** me... he made me feel so small and scared. i can still taste his tongue inside me, and feel his stubble scratching my face. i don't revisit that night very often because it's two years later and i still would rather ignore it ahah
204 · May 2019
corcra
fiachra breac May 2019
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?
maybe.
196 · May 2020
quilt
fiachra breac May 2020
i can piece together scraps
and tie up old ribbon
and weave a new story

out of old memories
and new friends
and tales of true emotion

heartache, heartbreak,
when there’s just a little more
at stake

echoes of laughter and music,
deep sea and vast distance

dip and weave
move and shake
from many pieces,
one does a quilt make
189 · Apr 2018
torn
fiachra breac Apr 2018
Between what I am supposed to feel
And the desires of my heart.
189 · Jul 2020
a different outcome
fiachra breac Jul 2020
am I the monster?

pitiful, broken boy. vile creature. twisted soul.

it all feels a bit trite now. I used to fill pages upon pages with that. a ceaseless wave of self-loathing. I wanted to do that tonight. I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted to tear myself to pieces. just like the old days: endless tirades into whatever abyss presented itself. notes and poems, blogs and songs.

I even carved it into my skin.

"MONSTER" "PERVERT" "FREAK" "EVIL"

if you look closely you can still see the faint outlines of names I gave myself from my hips to my thighs.

but scars fade.
wounds heal.
tablets work (and stop working), counsellors work (and stops working), friends leave (and stop leaving),

nothing stands still. that once constant hum fades into the distance.

a new song takes its place.

just look at all the hope left in its wake...

all the friendships maintained. all the relationships built. all the late night calls and car rides to the beach. all the conversations and arguments. all the half-baked ideas and plans to change the world. all the cups of tea and petrol station tray bakes. all the last minute events. all the bickering and creating. all the faces glowing. all the plane, train, bus, and bike journeys. all the phone calls answered. all the wounds bandaged. all the ambulance trips and hospital visits. all the falling outs and friend drama. all the heartbreak and bellyache. all the pain and confusion. all the *** and prayer. all the tears and laughter. all the board games and secret shames. all the friends lost and friends gained.

there are lives worth living, and people worth loving.
my life did not end at 16, when I committed a crime and shattered the world.
no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I bled, I could not change what I had done.

but it is done.
all of it.
and many, many years later, I think I can finally begin close a chapter of my life.

after all, hope grows in the cracks.
I worry a lot about the people around me. I worry that I will let them down, that I’ll hurt them, that I’ll miss a step and let them fall. I always have worried about these things, but it is different now.

I don’t have to worry that these friends will talk behind my back. I don’t have to worry that these friends will lash out at me. I don’t have to worry that I’ll get thumped if I let them down. I don’t have to worry that my home will become a place to be frightened of. I don’t have to worry that every action will be scrutinised for slights I never intend.  

I have the best friends in the world. I have a loving family. I am very lucky, and I really don’t deserve the people around me.
170 · Apr 2020
10.4.20
fiachra breac Apr 2020
grey carpet, yellow wall,
brown table, yellow wall,
blue seat, yellow wall,
and a **** coloured stain on the ceiling.
_______

shoulders pressed inward,
hands between thighs,
hair hanging in front of
detestable grey eyes.

but details matter,
red hands must smear
a crude-drawn picture,
on strips of brown-clear.

blinding and white
burning the table,
ten pages in all,
a statement from Abel.

attempt to explain,
better yet confess,
inky black clips,
secret, sudden cess.

bottle green, cautioning;
two lives lost
to action unseen.
golden is youth,
yet blue is the feeling,
all colour gone, body reeling.
152 · Oct 2019
when it drops
fiachra breac Oct 2019
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.”
151 · Sep 2020
/
fiachra breac Sep 2020
/
hope has a still, small voice
145 · Dec 2019
a short prayer
fiachra breac Dec 2019
let light drive out darkness,
hope supplant fear,
joy overtake despair;

and most of all,
may love and goodness grow,
where forgiveness flows
:)
140 · Jun 2019
(not yet) the end
fiachra breac Jun 2019
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,
yet,

here i am,
(again)
having failed you
(again)
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
122 · Jul 2020
pursuit
fiachra breac Jul 2020
let me pursue kindness if it kills me.

let my actions speak louder.

let my reflection be true and my apologies timely.

let anger flee and love remain.

let pain subside and healing grow.

and where I have toyed with fire let hope build bridges.
a prayer
111 · Dec 2019
bud
fiachra breac Dec 2019
bud
sweet blossoming joy,
friends who stick around,
friends who have only just begun.

ah life flows
from rocks broken in two ,

water pouring out
of stone,

drenching all around,
with sweet blossoming joy

— The End —