He is the foundations
On which I build my strength
He is the sunrise and sunset
Bringing a smile to my face,
Always,
He is the constant friend
The trusted one
My best friend, my anchor
My wings to keep my head
In the clouds where dreams lay
His kindness is more than I deserve
And more than I can ever repay
The beacon that guides me to light
When all I see is darkness
He is my sweetest friend,
The eye of my storm,
The strength of tranquillity,
He is all of this to me.
All of this and more

My life will end
as a blank canvas
on an empty wall
in an empty house
in a street that no one remembers
I will fade into the endless black
drowned amongst
the many nameless
forgotten by all
who once swore
to remember me
I will lie dying
in a potter's field
with a wilting flower
and a first name only
I will never publish my words
and I will never show my art
And I will forget to leave this town
fading like every other here
who had big, but fragile dreams
I will always exist
but forget to live.

And I'll cut my wrists
Straight down to the bone
And carve flowers
Into the body
You've wilted.

when you run your fingers across my skin
be careful
for I have spent many sleepless nights
stitching myself back together
when people's words cut through me like daggers

and when you brush your lips against mine
be careful
I have so often bled venom from this mouth in my words
And I would hate for you to taste its sting

When you wipe the tear from the corner of my eye
be careful
It is not the last I will shed, there are many more
pricking at my eyelids, itching to be released

When you declare 'I love you' to me
be careful
I have heard it many times, none of which were true
If i hesitate saying it back, know that it is my lack of trust
not your lack of love for me

And when you hold me in your arms
be careful
I am all too likely to shatter, I am but a fragile thing
A bird, if you will; Hold me too tightly
and my little wings will break, hold me too loosely
and I will take flight for fear that pain will follow.

I fall down my throat
Into the last standing pillars
Of my body, that was a city
Atlantis and I, both sinking
I take all benevolent queen in me
Whisper wakefulness to my sleeping parts
Listen for the whirrs and chimes
Of my whole heart coming alive again
I can hear the lioness of my lungs chatting with the magpies
All the birds singing in harmony
The tree that grew from the apple seeds I swallowed
Refuses to drop its leaves, even as winter
Tries to choke this body
I am walking through gardens
All the beasts that used to gnaw at my bones while I slept
Nudge at my hands and lead me through this Eden
Like Atlantis, I find myself lost
Like Atlantis, I find no desire to return to the surface
All the birds singing in harmony
And happiness, in every step
Happiness

I don't belong to anyone
I belong to the earth and the skies
And leap year's missing days
I belong to storms and thunders growl
To the stars and the moon
And broken birds' still beating hearts
I am a child of light and shadow
I belong to nothing and no one
I will never belong to them
I will never belong at all

She's got an old soul
older than mountains,
older than the rain
It was probably there when
the rivers first ran free
Older than the earth, maybe
One of the first stars
The brightest supernova
she dove in, beautifully, on a crystal comet
straight out of the Universe

she's seemed like starlight ever since

wrap me up in your embrace
kiss a smile onto my face
hold me close, don't let go
i cannot handle being alone
make me hot chocolate, warm me up
pour it into my favourite cup
whisper I love you in my ear
it's just for me, no one else can hear
play a film, put on our show
laugh with me, watch our love grow
hold my hand, cuddle me tight
ignite that spark you bring to my life
bring me closer, listen to my heart
I hope to heaven we'll never part.

If i wrote a story, it would be a tragedy. But it would not be about the blood that flows from my legs at night when my mother thinks im sleeping. It would not be about the days wasted crying because no one could hear me when i broke. It would not include the story of two 3 year olds who lost a loving father they barely had enough time to know, or a loving wife who had the light of her life taken by the forces of death. It would not be about the darkness that engulfed my friend, who then became the darkness, and bled away into the shadows to join the ghosts that called so softly to him, he could not resist. It would not be a story of the girl who took over 100 tablets in 3 days because of a boy she loved who told her to do it, and the pressures weighing on her shoulders were pushing her into an early grave. It would not be the tragedy of her survival and the continuous pain and shame that she endures to this day. No. my story would be about the futility of life's arrangement and how the world around us is crumbling to dust and we are doing nothing. It would be about the thousands who are starving and crying who no one seems to give a **** about because they're the 'minorities'. It would be about life's cycle with death, and how so many are ripped from loving families before their time because the universe works in cruel ways, and -if there is a god- he or she is moving chess pieces across their board and watching them crumble. My story would be about the skilled children and poets that no one has heard of because, as everyone knows "its not cool to write poetry" . My tragedy would be about the injustice of law and how those in love are denied being bound to one another because they are of the same ***. It would be about the millions lost to wars that history repeats again and again and again over new, yet just as trivial things. This is not my tragedy. This is everyone's.

i miss being little
i miss my mum thinking
that every scribble i drew
was a masterpiece
I miss eating as much as i could
well... because I could
i miss coming home from school
with ***** hands from finger painting
I miss being able to talk to anyone
because i had confidence
(or was it naivety?)
i miss not being weighed down
by invisible chains that slowly drag me
towards an uncontrollable sadness
I miss being young
I miss being carefree
I miss being happy.

Just say the word
And I will give you an army
Of reasons
Why hating myself
Has always come so naturally

I hate that I don't have a gag reflex
Because I **** at calorie counting
And throwing up seems
So much the easier option

I feel like a stranger
In my own home
Because I live life believing
That I am the reason
One of our family members
Has gone from the world

I hate and fear that my father
Would not be proud
Of who I have become
And the thought scares me
More than any abysmal nightmare

I could go on
But I doubt
You would want to hear
What horrors unfold
In my mind
And all
My 6pm secrets

We fell
As Icarus fell
Wingless and burning
Grasping at shards
Of the sun

Concept: I whisper to the moon that I cannot sleep and she sends me dreams of ocean waves and whale songs

people need to stop
with this whole
'real women have curves -
real women have stretch marks -
real women have cellulite -'
etcetera freaking etcetera
this mentality is killing us
i have rolls and wrinkles
and skin dimples
and i am real as the dawn
and my best friend has none
she is slim and lithe
and unmarred by flesh like mine
and she is real
and she is beautiful
and i am beautiful
bodies are bodies
stop it.

One cut
Two cuts
Three cuts
Four
Come on now
Whats just one more?
Four cuts
Five cuts
And lastly
Six
Nothing bad
Its just a nick
Seven cuts
Eight cuts
Nine cuts
Ten
I have missed this
I last did it... when?
Cuts and scars
Across her legs
One day
I think
I'll wind up
**Dead.

I have been coming apart
At the seams
Threadbare and worn
Barely a tapestry
And all the world applauds
‘It has been a beautiful unravelling’

There is beauty here
You can see it,
Through the cracks of the universe.
You can see it all.

The clear night sky
In a polluted city
Where all stars come alive
And sit ablaze among the black

The mirrored echo of the sky
On a frozen lake
In the crisp and harsh winter
As above, so below, in beauty

The vibrant gold
In autumn months
Where all is tired and dying
But colour is awake and bold

There is beauty here
In the cracks of the universe
You can see it,
If you look.

I am not congruent
If you open me up
You will find mismatched bones
And the disjointedness of me

Every jungle has a snake
I am in the garden of Eden
And my peers feel like
They are the conspirators

I am loved, often
He holds me and I sleep
But nothing is perfect
Nothing can stay, not even him

I am brittle and fragile
My bones break on a nightly basis
My mother fears I'll crumble
We all turn to ash, one day

Your words are dull knives
With a tendency to leave a bruise
Who taught you to speak bullets
Without considering the exit wound?
Are we simply soldiers
Marching in fields of decaying youth
Or are we stars, burning out,
Supernovas of mistaken truths?

We will drown in the rain, the waves, trembling under the thunderous voices of those who oppose us. We are more than flesh and blood, we are stardust.

To anyone feeling sad right now, these are not the moments you will remember, in 5 years time when your smile stuns even the coldest of hearts, you will not remember this date and time, and you will not remember that your sorrow once tried to eat you alive and you sat and felt tears roll down your face. These are the moments that will blur and fade from your memory until you are left with the slightest haze of recollection that things were not perfect once, but the happiness you feel will drown that out until you perceive sadness as a fractured figment of a dream that visited you long ago. You are not your losses, your failures, you are the extent to which you loved, not the numbers of those who loved you in return. This sadness is temporary, your dreams, your hope, that is eternal. Be defined by your joy, it leaves deeper impressions.

Mold yourself like clay to suit those you want to adore you, lose yourself in the pitch dark of their requirements and forget sense of self in the pursuit of acceptance. Reach wildly and blindly for their praise and call it love, love, love.

Ah my, old loves, new loves,
Old loves born anew.
First loves, last loves
loves you gave yourself to
Empty loves, whole loves
Loves not quite complete
Tragic loves, daring loves
Ah you sweep me off my feet
My loves, my love
The only one I've known
True love, brief love
**My love you are my home

I am a beacon
For chaos and disorder.
Tempests and storms
Seem to gravitate towards me
And lost souls
Treading solemn paths
Always manage to find themselves
In my company
Ruin and carnage surround me,
Shattered parts of abandoned dreams
And the wreckage of sorrow
All head towards my light.
I do not want to be a beacon
I do not want to bring hurricanes
Into the lives of people I love
But this chaos, this waste,
Clings closer to me
Than my shadow.

If I hold this mug of tea tight enough, it mimics your touch and the feel of your warm skin against mine. When I press it to my lips and drink it deep I can remember me breathing in the kisses and lies you poured down my throat and I'll not sip gently I will gulp it all down in the hopes that it could somehow keep you in my mouth. But I hold onto this mug that is warm like you, and I hold on for too long and find it burns my skin and my throat and tongue. It blisters my fingers and boils my lips when I try to touch it, when I try to love it. Just like you did.

Angry knots in the joints of my hands
My fists clenching and unclenching
I am not comfortable in this skin
Everything is so loud, so harsh to me,
The creak of the table, the chewing of gum
The tap tap tap of drumming fingers
I can feel lightning in my veins
Crackling and snapping, it is violent
I want to block everything out
I want it to blur at the edges of myself
And disappear somewhere quiet
Somewhere my skin isn't a cage
And my mind isn't an enemy
I need the lull of the sea on a hot day
And the embrace of the waves
As I sink.

I have been running in circles
in my own mind,
chasing my tail, trying to grip
onto a reality that is slipping away
I do not know if what I am feeling
is anything other than an illusion.
Is this love? lust? or just another friendship
I stare too deeply into, in the small hopes
that it will give my life some meaning.
alas, whatever it is, i cannot let it grow,
for my words are a poison that will infect
even the strongest of people, should they choose
to expose even the smallest scar to me
It is a curse i must bear alone
I cannot let them in.

He tells me that
My body is a map
And he wants to explore
He tells me I am a lost continent
That is more beautiful than
The rest of the world's wonders
But he doesn't see it all
Not the scars littering
My legs and sides
Or the uneven grotesque lines
On my thighs. They plague me.
He doesn't see all of me
And I wouldn't have it
Any other way.

This time last year I was writing letters
Apologising for the way I feel
And the way I have always felt
Trying to shift blame onto my own selfish consciousness
And the methods to drown it out
Methods that left more than just physical scars
This year I am no longer writing letters
But every breath is like swallowing glass
My heart beats languid and slow
Every cell of me is fatigued
I sleep all the time and I never feel awake
Fully consumed in the guilt of who I am
And how it must hurt people to love me
So no, I am no longer writing letters
But I am still revising the words.

we are in constant turmoil
Always thinking
Always judging
Over evaluating the possibilities
Life after death,
Death before life
Heaven, hell,
Twisted carnage of dreams
Thinking that there is something,
Someone to greet us
When the veil of two worlds
Distinctly apart
But woven together
Shimmers and dies away
And we ask how, not why
how can there be life after death
Dear, I must assure you
Those are questions
That will remain unanswered
La Mort n'a peut-être
pas plus de secrets à nous
reveler que la vie

we grew up surrounded
by boys who taste like *****
and smell like cigars
or girls with too many playthings
and not enough decency
we grew up thinking that
no one will ever fall in love with us
because lust is often mistaken for a connection
and there are only words to get what you want
we grew up with empty bottles
and broken hearts
because love? Love is great when it lasts;
but it never lasts.