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 Nov 2015 Graced Lightning
I lost a friend and I lost a tooth,
The tooth had to go; the friend I couldn't lose
It was a wisdom tooth, with some decay,
It was a wise friendship, its strings began to fray,
The tooth couldn't be salvaged; the friendship stood a chance,
I chose to cut loose the tooth; cutting the friendship wasn't my stance
Like my tongue wiggles, at the place the tooth would be,
So mind tumbles, at all things my friend used to be
Anorexia was the most attentive
Girlfriend anyone could ask for
And I fell hard for her
I fell for for 500 calories a day,
The sense of control it gave me
Compliments from girls I'd never talked to before
Doctors so pleased that I was finally "healthy"
That feeling,
Of stepping on the scale
And realizing that I took up less space
Than when I'd stepped on the day before
The feeling of water hitting an empty stomach
The hunger pangs
That secretly thrilled me
The thrill of the lies
The ones that became ever so easy
To slip off my tongue
The thrill of a secret love affair with death
I fell for an abuser
I fell...
Bruises lined my body
From bumping into walls
Because my body was so
Malnourished I couldn't
Walk down a hallway
Fell down a rabbit hole-
Fell down into a world I couldn't escape-
Thigh gaps, thinspiration, tips and tricks to
Hide this wonderland in your head
Walking headfirst into Anorexia was like walking
Into a haunted house
It's fun and exhilarating at first
It's a game, it's harmless
And then you realize that the doors
Are barred and it dawns on you
That ringing the doorbell of death
Was not the best idea
I am a study in skinny does not make you happy
The 5 pounds you wanted to lose
Turns to 10
Turns to 20
Turns to...
I am a study in
Every inch of your body being a warzone
Of standing in front of a mirror
Seeing nothing but a piece of meat
Taking up too much space
I am a study in calculation
I am a study in lying
I am a study in not dead, but not alive
I am a study in starvation
I am a study in falling out of love
Chocolate colored Toms, Cool Blue and Navy, too,
North Face jacket, give me some individuality
I wanna feel ethereal; violently, annoyingly
happy. But the sky is as black as lonely cancer
without a soul mate; I know what it's like
to kiss as you erase her.

Hauntingly, melancholic instances ingrained
into my gelatin mind and
And the smolder
from the brand on my shoulder
I wish I could alter my reflection,
but the mirror I've bought,
somebody else
South Shore
Our faithful black Labrador, who was an old lady when I was just a boy, had six pups and despite the grey on her muzzle, produced enough milk for them all. She would take her bowl to the sink when thirsty, tinned-meat to the can-opener when hungry. When tired, she would sprawl out on a rug before the coal fire, on occasion, licking her master’s feet before falling asleep.
     Sometimes, I would rest my head upon her chest, listening to her breathing. In her dreams she would sometimes yelp softly and I would soothe her nightmares away by stroking her sleek black coat.
In our garden, during the pleasant sunshine of a warm afternoon, we used to play together. Throwing a tennis ball that she would chase then fetch back and drop in my waiting hands for me to throw again. This was by far, her favourite game.
     Some considered that she ran out in front of the School Teacher’s speeding car deliberately. “Because of her age,” they said, and “her inability to cope with the pups, only just turned two weeks old,” — that my mother reared, against all predictions.  
     I never accepted this nonsense. At the time, such a thing never crossed my mind as I looked at her, sprawled across the roadside verge. Her eyes were open, but through my tears I could see they were sightless. I also saw the muddy tyre-print across her unmoving ribs and how her legs twisted at an unnatural angle. I could not help my crying, but I felt no shame: none at all.  
     The sad regret I saw in the School Teacher’s red-rimmed eyes did nothing to ease my pain.  If anything, her sorrow made me feel even worse. I felt guilty because I wanted to hate her. Perhaps I did hate her! I can barely remember now. With the passage of time the pain and the hate, if indeed there was any hate, has faded.
     Whenever I pass our old house, where Moss is buried in the garden in which she played, I recall our times together and give her good thoughts. For good thoughts are all that I have for our faithful black Labrador, who was an old lady when I was just a boy.
A true story, told in prose style with a pantoum seal.
 May 2015 Graced Lightning
Your Instagram tinted daydream solo self-help projects
are naught compared to the many faces of my Ketamine addled
multi-faceted bed-ridden wasted ****** aesthetic
Bring me my poppers while I can smell them
or get off my ******* rocket ship
These are the bed sores of regret
tinged in tingly jingle-jangle garage rock twattish twee twaddle
Smoke my tea drink my plants, Kratom of the smack recovery
cat come cat-call **** all to be done
the ladders lead to the plateau that the Meat Puppets sang about
Some say I've been away, some that I've been dead
dada said daddy in the monotone voice, slippin' mickeys and mandys in the drinks of the boys and girls for spoils of war
and causalities of the political system
I hope the vote for your preferred pederast is enough to stop *******
or in fact let us turn to your queen so the monarchs can reward the patriarchs that beat the matriarchs and maybe we can sleep a little better tonight
Truth is these four walls are enough of a prison within the prison that I feel free in slavery
Words too imprison the soul, so I stopped using them
implicit in silence
explicit in message
call on your horses
kneel before the great *** of democracy
these are truly the end of days
and her natural milk shall flow through our veins
until the new dawn awakens from solemn slumber
and your faux-intellectual ******* returns to witch doctor ritual seance ******* matador squeaky clean record having gutter-troll reprobate sunshine easy listening solipsist elite country club golf retreat in the hills where you **** the carcass of the empire with your dysfunctioning penises and praise your zionist overlords that mock your ****** hospitality through gritted teeth as they push you over the edge onto the wailing crowds of peasants below where your alien bones crumble to dust and your stagnant coagulated blood oozes into the Earth where it burns like gallons of acidic chemicals and the world rejoices at the sight of fallen greed and toppled regime until the next time it happens again
There is no meaning in these words, don't read them, don't worry, stop caring
Whilst we destroy what we are,
Another’s suffering does nothing,
Nothing at all to alleviate our pain.
That we in the west live in luxury,
Does nothing either: why should it?
We are spawned from choice,
Conceived via free will, and ******,
Dropped into a cradle of filth,
Finally crawling, learning to hate,
Not knowing why, nobody knows why,
Well do they? Do they?
Emerging and ready to die, yes,
Already damaged and broken,
Bereft of the truth of life, sick,
Perishing lost and alone, uncaring,
We the ******, misunderstood,
Chastised, ‘we never had it so good?’
We who inherited the earth, yeah,
We have it good, no struggle, none!
And therein lies our issues, true,
We have no need to fight, have we?
So, we fight ourselves, cutting,
And we live to cause suffering,
Our own agony screamed wildly!
Go on, frown, older generation,
Go on, you know you want to.
Call us, shake your wise heads,
Whilst we destroy what we are.

©Paul M Chafer 2015
Not my usual ‘hey, see that Wolfen Warrior in the clouds there with the dragon?’ but a reaction to the poems of, and inspired by, Alice Liddle. At the time of writing, I was also listening to the album, Tragic Idol by Paradise Lost, UK  Goth Metal band. I read lots of poems about self-harm, addiction, lost and alone, youth in turmoil. I write my novels for troubled youth, to urge them never to yield. I have worked as a volunteer for troubled youth, but only today, whilst having a bad day of my own, through reading Alice and hearing ******* rock, did I find something new, and the poem was born. Hate it, loathe it, just a darker side of me I rarely reveal. I know some will love it. Thank you Alice.
Beyond compare, so readily springs to mind,
Whenever considering, the essence that is you,
To say, you are easy on the eye, is not unkind,
Possessing exotic darkness of an intriguing hue.
Though, I am referring to the you, deep within,
Your heartfelt desire, such delightful appeal,
The sultriness of the tales, we choose to spin,
Heated illicit whispers, making the mind reel.
Deeper still, untouched innocence revealed,
Yearning to be loved, cherished, yes, found,
Fondness for literature, art, barely concealed,
Cultural spool, becoming lovingly unwound.
These words do not begin, to show why I care,
I need you to know, you are beyond, compare.

©Paul M Chafer 2015
This is the second sonnet in a series of sonnets I am writing, mostly about, love and affection, friendship and relationship. Anyone reading this may wish to go and read 1 first. I am planing these to be a continuing development of a relationship, not sure how it will go, if it will even work, but it's a challenge.
When you think you love someone, take a step back. When all you can see is the way they have shaped you into what they've wanted, just like your parents have all these years, walk away
2. When they tell you that you can't do it, look at them and prove you can.
3.when everything inside of you is screaming to just jump the bridge... Don't. Because tomorrow won't be there if you do and I promise, tomorrow will miss you. And tomorrow has a new adventure. Be excited
4. When you see that girl across the table, and she scares you. Kiss her. Kiss her hard because you scare her too, but somehow it'll work.
5. When one day you wake up and food is no longer your best friend, when you can't stand the smell of your favorite meal, eat it anyway. Because when I stepped on the scale and saw I've lost 10 pounds in a week, I realized there was something wrong.
6. When you can't be yourself somewhere, leave.

So that's what I'm doing.
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