by the turn of the clock
i have not done as i said
my head and i have frailed
lonely and failed becomes

nothing i write or contribute will ever mean anything to anybody
to you this is ink on a screen
i am shapeless and nameless
eighteen years soon and i will die alone
you can't love a manipulator

and here's what you missed on the pathetic melancholy of me,
she hasn't looked me in the eye since friday
and im swallowing my spite
every impulse is screaming at me to lash out
take him
hurt her
a warpath of destruction that knows no bounds
but that story has been played
six or seven times now
i can't afford to slip again

im doing it again
but i want you back
doesn't that count for something?
this isn't personal gain
but i don't want to hurt you
I'm a time bomb as it is

I've was hung up on you when i was fourteen
you used to show up in cat ears
and band tee's and that stupid short hair
countless nights i dreamt of you
and that carried on until about 2 months ago
when i fell asleep and dreamt of someone new
a boy with strange eyes and a crooked smile
I've moved on and yet i feel im cheating

im constantly chasing my life
clinging to the jagged rocks
so tantalisingly close
then the crimson threads under my nails
envelops me in a blanket of scarlet
suffocating me sofly
till i remind myself to breathe and i pull away
and i call out to my life
deliberately ignoring the ruby spots
thread together the tattered parts
soothe it with honey and lemon
until the crimson threads under my nails
until the crimson threads under my nails
until the crimson threads

i hate lana del ray for reasons beyond her control
I've never met the woman
i don't care about her personal life
nor how she spends her time
and i only listen to her when the radio dictates
but she makes my love think of me
and for that i hate her

every artist needs one
so would it be vain to place my intent for a muse
into my path of self loathing

its hard to describe
that melted n burning wax on my fingers feels like christmas
and fruitshoots smell like mcdonalds
and the way that pez tastes like someones house
or that pig from winnie the pooh

manipulation is a bad quality
but ****, does it feel good to do it.
i never go to extremes, i'm not that bad
just a taste, small things
the power it gives is inexplicable
it makes me want more
test the waters and see how far i can go

everyday is a test to convince myself to not hate for eating
and its one step forwards two steps back
i try to feel empowered or fierce or something other than awful
yet you always loom with the sly comments
its my fault for being too fragile
but its a **** hard truth when the women at my job
taught me more about self love
then the woman who bore me

you ever just get
absolutely sick to your guts?
no rhyme or reason, just a sickening feeling
brewing where god intended
i'm living my ******* teenage Holden Caulfield
******* of teenage angst
fueled by hatred of self rather than rebellion for the sake of nobody

nothing is true and everything is bland
you're naive for thinking otherwise
we're force fed these stories
of princesses and castles and love and friendship
but nothing is true and everything is a lie
you'll thank me late for ripping that off
love will end and trust is dead
you're naive for wanting otherwise

god i was so young
i'm looking back on old photos
and there's a glint in my eye i didn't notice
a small hope that you felt the same way
you'd break my heart but only briefly
always at your beck and call
my hair was vibrant and purple
and too many freckles to count
i don't pine for you anymore
just old me and the time we lost

when i was younger i used to believe
that every one is good or bad
no in between
catholic upbringing, you know the drill
now as i grow i realize
the lines are a lot more blurred than when first perceived
and sometimes it's good to be bad

it starts with setting plates down
just enough force to make a sound
then it goes to talking
with less filter then usual
the worst is the silence
my mind can do more damage then you ever could
and you let it reign free
your gaze blank
yet somehow piercing
dread building

i like the danger of hard boiled sweets
something so sweet and innocent
has the capability to cease my breathing
and turn me violet
i'm too old to cut myself
or cry in the teachers office when i feel blue
so i **** these sweets
and hope i choke

autumn smiles at me through his dusted glasses
and he offers me a warm yet calloused hand.
we dance together, slow and close.
he's old now, worn away by time
the crows feet and laugh lines reveal this
yet he still holds me gently.
he's not harsh or rough like summer
who forces me to tango
nor cold or distant like spring
who doesn't dance at all.
i trust him to keep me safe
i'm bruised and aged from summer
he knows this, i believe
he only stays a short while
but i know i'll see him again

two spoonfuls and a dash of honey
it changes but its this for now
my only dependency
and it isn't even sentient

i have rough days quite frequently
and it's nice to come home to the bitter
yet homely taste

is it a need to self destruct
or to just hurt others
i struggle to pinpoint
all i know is the moment i start feeling safe
that's when it needs to end

not so intense my heart hurts
in fact my heart doesn't react at all
home isn't with you but i enjoy your company
if a bullet flew i wouldn't jump
nor lay down my coat on a strangely deep puddle
but you let me rest my head on your shoulders
that's enough

funny isn't it
been four years and suddenly i'm back
but it's not you this time
someone else
trust me, i'm shocked as well
it's actually really nice to like someone romantically
and still know that they don't feel the same way
there's no pressure
no labels to conform to
just my feelings and not theirs
and i think i prefer it this way

im so tired of being sad
and spending my nights alone
with nothing but Morrissey's wailing
echoing in my room

its been seven months
nearly 8
since i last physically touched you
it was a hug goodbye
because we both assumed we'd meet again

sure i slipped here and there
while you were high
or when we matched on tinder
brief words between is
but its been seven months since we touched
and im determined to make it a year

or unnecessary pasta in my opinion
but who am i to argue with you
in my mind i know we have gallons back home
and will probably have more coming
still, you wanted to go to the shop.

we walked past the isle several times now
i don't have the energy to mention it
you'll only snap
you grab a bag more and throw it in the trolley
oblivious to the three bags already there
penne galore

it happens maybe once, maybe twice a month
when we actually eat the pasta
so i try not to let it build up
but you always insist we need more

your rationality makes me want to scream out blue
and throw sickles towards your already minted jacket
the world is bouncing
higgledy-piggledy
yet somehow you keep you feet firmly on the mountainous hills
ignore my pleas for the outer world
to stop blowing bubbles and snap them in half
or cause a sensation in a pool of tar
it must be exhausting to be unruly and rational

back when we were fourteen
the heat blazing outside
and that stupid game was still popular
i'd lie on your lap
you'd rest your controller on my head
mine on my stomach
my chemical romance blasting in the background

it's fuzzy at the edges
my ground feels real but i'm sane enough to know better
real you wouldn't hold me like this
so gentle and tender
saying everything right and still making me laugh
your actions scream dream

when the blinding light returns
and i'm out and about
i see you
and i know you're real because you look away

i noticed that my poems are often
how should i say it?
accusatory
but what can i say
i'm the hero in my own story

is it selfish of me to want to go through my depression alone?
you took my mental health into your own hands
intruded without my consent
you always talked about my burden upon you
which you placed on yourself
you only heard me speak and never listened
your ignorant filter blocking out my pleas
when the thin and wiry strands on your head turned grey
you blamed me, and i blamed myself

when you got into a relationship of your own
i'll admit it was hard for me to let go
but i tried
and it was unfair that my temper often turned sour
when you bragged about your healthy relationship with a bigot
but i tried
you tried to place jealousy into my anger
over him taking your time
when in reality, it was my neutrality which truly upset you

i was sixteen when i decided that
i needed to be a big girl and make my own choices;
codependency never suited me, i'm an archer at heart.
i kept a secret affair from you
not out of spite, you never crossed my mind
but simply because i wasn't ready to tell you
that was my choice.
you took that from me.
now i've always been a bad liar
it's lost its effect at this point
but as my friend i would have expected you to respect that
turn away, let sleeping dogs lie.
give me a month and i would have come to you
you took that from me.
your screaming voice still haunts me
but not as much as her teary eyes and the aftermath that followed.

guess what? i lied again
and you knew, again.
it wasn't me who had the second chance, rather you
be a good friend
i'm begging you to turn away
but, of course, you didn't.
my relationship shattered (or at least it appeared too)

my actions turned fox-like
we met, we smoked, we fell in love again.
5 or 6 times that summer at least.
i'm not sure you knew but i don't care anymore.
yes, the relationship failed
but guess what?
it ended on my own terms.
the liberation of that was inexplicable.

i still see you sometimes.
we take the same bus and its unavoidable
i still sneak around even though my need for that charade
ended a long time ago
and i suppose you still hold the world on your shoulders
no one asks you to but still you persist
we're just strangers now
and i can truly say from the deepest pits of my heart
that losing you as a friend will always be my happiest memory.

there is a certain bitterness that fills my throat
when i watch romantic movies
two pretty girls fall in love and live a beautiful life together
overcoming adversity and battling through
despite everything against them
i'm sure i threw my shoe the last time
in my heart i know its fictional
that relationships don't work like that
i should know, I've lived through them
but even when the lover eventually dies
it scorns me
why did their love work but not mine?

picture the word in your head;
a sweet lullaby passed down the years
or a word shared between families at a meal
flowers and the fae and all things beautiful enveloping
a warm summer night at the beach
surrounded by those you love and bursts of color

now imagine the person attached to it.
dents under her eyes with a lack of moral sanity
low ambition and a dizzying sensation
uselessly attached to a person
who will leave at a moments notice
the fae stopped answering her calls when she fell in love
and her love stopped answering when it inconvenienced
a once dewy skin now stains at the fingertips
and hair that floats in a lake
with an addiction that she chose

when the tears overflow
shaking me to the core
hysteria, they call it
i don't realize that i am pulling my hair
until the strands are wrapped neatly around my fingers
and pulled from my face
mad woman syndrome i would have been diagnosed
if i lived in a different age
and i suppose its a fitting name
how else can i describe my world falling internally
white noise in the air
and flashes of lines clouding my vision
when i wake up and my voice has left
will i remember that i screamed

how can i be in love with someone who put me in the hospital
who told the entire world my deepest secret
tormented me for years
convinced me i was delusional
and broke my heart more times than counted

the sole reason for my fear of abandonment
pressured me to commit to something i didn't want
blamed me when it went wrong
yet still continues to fluctuate into my life.

the fact i still let you in speaks volumes of my
apparent hatred for myself

i often laugh about it with friends
how absurd some of the scenes can be
the bizarre and the taboo
even the funny ones at times
when we are young we are taught
of how *** is nothing but intimate
and serious (and deadly)
yet in this modern age,
we find sitting on a cone will do
or dressing as a spider and perusing your prey
is just the bee's knees

so you're sat in your car
dope coursing through your veins
or not, i neither know nor care
and you notice a girl across the road
ageless probably
all you know is she is built like a woman
and that is enough

so you roll down your window
smirk across at your friends
knowing glances shoot between you
"hey lady!" you roar
"give us your number then!"

so she ignores you
your masculinity scorned
ignorant rage replaces the dope
hurling abuse is all you know so you throw it
you also throw a can for good measure
how dare she ignore your compliments?

its underwhelming if im truly honest
you read about it
as if its some giant monster
immediately taking control
poor sad little girl staring out into sea
fragile tears cascading
no hope for survival
only the strong can survive
we bury the weak at dawn

its gradual
seeps in through my pore and never out
we move together as one
i barely notice it
and i guess that makes it more dangerous
things that were one-offs become habits
sleeping late, eating too much
forgetting to shower
im weak for letting it in so much
but i can't imagine life without it

although i often claim to miss you
let me make this clear
i would rather bring a sterling blade to my throat
or pop my eyes out with a spoon
and die all alone with no family or friends
than ever belong to you again

pity we live in a seaside town
because i can't stand the smell
of those cheaply made and over sugared things
3 pounds for a bag of six
and we'd sit and eat them
not all mind you,
the doughy texture would always become too much
and we'd admit defeat before one of us lays claim to them
i wince every time my friends plead to get some
and offer them around
because nothing on this green earth
could ever remind me more of you

all i ask
is when you see my weep
turn away
pretend it's not happening
the embarrassment i'm feeling out ways that of yours

when i'm angry walk away
let me vent and scream and cry
leave me alone
i will always come back to you

when i'm panicked don't touch me
don't communicate or look at me worried
it's okay to leave me and ignore
i will never hold it against you

every detail is etched in my brain
the sense of entrapment following my school teachers
dear old mum was there too
surrounded in a sense
the photographs were placed in front of me
dread soaking my (so far) untainted lungs
i admit it was me

the car journey was awful
cheery songs plague through the seats and i let the tears flow freely
**** the hospital for being so far
sympathetic glances are shot my way
and i hate each and everyone of them
i get several prep talks about my existence but all i can focus on
is my stupidity of getting caught
and my burning hatred for you

monday rolls around and i am released
more glances and harsher whispers
i don't know who told and i don't care
"is it true?" *******
you don't care about what i would have done,
you just need new gossip

their idea of help isn't helpful
years of bottling doesn't get fixed by kind words or well meanings

the torment worsens
yet i get punished for biting back

i love and i miss it
the feeling so intense that i feel it in all areas
whether it be anger, sadness or lust
starting from the bottom working its way up
clouding my vision and making my head spin
it's been an awfully long time since this organic experience

that's a part of the grey cloud they neglect to tell you
to a point where it remains hard to notice unless you look
you laugh, you cry and you listen
but it's all artificial
something you trained your body to excel in
after years of seeing it in media
i wonder, when was the last time i was truly sad?
or irrationally angry?
or so happy that it's hard to breathe?

so i'm sat there
purposefully ditsy
i've perfected my laugh to be two octaves higher
my hair unnaturally straight
belly trapped and contained for now
red marks flushed against the milky white of my skin
caused by wires and hidden my clothes
but still you don't look at me

soon enough i give up
my mane is let lose
i allow my stomach to breathe and fold over
overgrown and bushy in all senses of the word
(not as a personal choice i may add, simple sloth)
the hazel in my hair now stripped and yellow
my laugh lands deep and guttural, somewhat ******

you tell me i changed and i scoff
you expect me to envy the boy who never changed?
same laugh same weight same personality
no development except for new purple haze
a drug on which your entire identity
i'd laugh if i felt anything more towards you than pity

taking pity on the drunk girl
lying on my lap
begging me to kiss her
spewing on my leg
so i sit with you
your eyes are closed
resembling a rather large and ugly baby
you beg me to call you attractive
and i am revolted as you crush me
but i hold it in
call you pretty
speak of a fictional crush i supposedly have on you
which you probably remember
but i remember the ***** in your hair

at this point in my life
you're more of an obsession than a love
no
not obsession
addiction
like a ritualistic inhalation of smoke just to feel dizzy
i'm at peace
with how i don't love you
now it's just a habit

when it is dark out and the world no longer listens
i sit there and think
about all the times i caused hurt to myself
because of my bull-ish qualities
maybe i should let go
let loose
lie down and become a rug
so what if they all secretly hate me
love doesn't need to be explicit

i'm aware of the patterns
of course i am
it's just unfortunate that my flight instinct is stronger
just sit back 'sea
let them say it
words are meaningless anyway
deep down they love you
no they don't
is it happening again?
my fault or theirs?
look at their eyes
it's slight but they glance away
that doesn't mean anything
yes it does

who cares
there's always someone better
seven billion and i'm going through fast

i prayed for this moment
longed for countless years
but the kisses aren't soft
nor tender
they burn and stain in ways i despise
every move feels clumsy and unnatural
you pull me close yet i want to throw you off
uncoordinated fumbling
your eyes no longer glisten but instead bore into me
but i smile and moan like i practiced
when i spent all those nights longing

the rational part of me respects you
after all you made me who i am today
without you i would have dwindled and suffocated
the pain fine tuned me
and i know deep down that i would trade anything
any memory or any riches
just to be fourteen again
and living my days with you

but the irrational part hates you
wants to forget everything
all the lies and the pain
i need the suffocation and dwindling
who would i be without it
i miss you but you're not you anymore

there is thunder outside my bedroom
it used to make me think of you
the time when we hid under a bridge
or out in a tent
curled up with only each other on the mind
this was the first in a while
where you crossed my mind
instead i find myself
just enjoying the storm

it doesn't get better
learn this now
if i can save you from the longing
endless nights when that's all you crave
you're wasting time
nothing gets better
only situations change
you were born alone and you'll die alone
i'll be with you
of course
but do not doubt that if given the chance
i would not hesitate to leave you