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

its so so easy
to close my eyes at night
and i am back in that hospital rooms
my un-slit wrists begging for release
and all i can think
is how you should have let me die

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

one error of continuity, the death of passion;
take it from father time
enraptured in this ill fitting body
i'll watch you fizzle in a week.
Find Comfort In No One.

it's not hyperbolic to say
that i will not be missed.
When the dust settles, and the fae hide between them;
when the fire burns out to ash-
no. I won't be missed.

i don't miss you
let me establish this
the second guessing
the guilt
your overwhelming presence
i know i'm better off
it will never be you i miss
just the company

Was probably the biggest lie I told myself.
That its normal to feel uneasy
at words unspoken,
and it's okay not to trust your partner.
Because it shouldn't matter that there are bad parts,
as long as there are small goods.

But it's all a lie.
I want to feel safe and secure and loved above all,
and it should not be conditional on my submission.
I want to be a person who is silly and laughs without fear
or withdrawal.
Because it's not commitment I was afraid of,
It was you.

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

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

define me as the wasted youth
the ungrateful living
dare i be a poet during the days of Wordsworth?
or shall i rot like the predecessors?
every day is a continuum
of me wanting you back
wishing away my youth and dreaming
of emptiness

I held the moon in my hands today,
and I wept a little.
He asked me,
"you do you weep?"
and we shared the burdens of the world.
Mister Moon is not wise,
but he is reliable.

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

its been nearly a year
and it's finally time
but i can't help feeling
that i'm betraying you

In my mind
you are in my arms
loving me without thought
but you aren't you
and i am alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm shaking as I go down to meet you
and I don't like to see you in chains.
I know, I know.
Shh, listen-
It isn't time yet...
I need more time.

I know my efforts are fruitless in the end,
because the chains were never locked.

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

You know I was sad,
and that my teenage years were rough.
Yet you still stare in disbelief at the
proof of purchase scattering my thighs
wrists
ankles
stomach.
The only valid form of proof i have
that i was sad,
and i never grew out of it

From my fathers stomach,
untimely ripped
did you cast your eyes upon me.
Betrothed by blood and you beat your wings
against my breast
to steal from me my youth.
My consent was reaped with guilt,
yet dare i ask fidelity from you?

You foresaw your brothers actions,
mimicking our romance
stealing youth again and providing
a queen for all dare enter.

She was younger than I,
summoner of spring.
A babe that still begged for a mothers touch,
Oh her mother!
The soul that even the sun cast out...

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

i dare not stare in the mirror
to look at the girl who loved
another girl who loved
to hurt and use and lie.
The girl in my reflection is branded with
those awful words you spoke to me;
"You are the great love of my life."
Oh, how i wish i could start you a new life
away from me.
You're a habit at this stage,
each time I think,
"Oh Maybe She's Changed?"
until that ****** temper flares up
mine or yours, take your pick.

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?

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

will the love of my life even want me?
to say I am a late bloomer would be
understating it, slightly.

do I even want me?
how can I morally give myself to someone,
and force that burden on them.

I've always been a flight risk

Nothing stings me more,
or swells the bile deep within the pit
more than the realization
that i can never be sure of anything.
I don't know you, or her or anybody.
If I drop a penny I can't be certain it will land.
I desperately want control, yet I won't ever have it.

I could not hold Salvont
in the same way I clutched the moon.
Instead he asked me for knowledge
and my intention of my placement.
It's easy to ignore Salvont,
as I can simply step away.

I could give us forever, my love.
I could give you forever.
It's not selfish of you,
to want to die is natural.
But, I want you for more
than the natural time given.

I have wandered this earth,
lost and lonely.
Waiting for someone, who I didn't
even know.
Your wick is burning low,
and the wax has evaporated.

How could you stand to leave me?
I can give us more.
I want more.

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

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

I had never kissed you with such passion
you had remarked later on whilst i lay on your chest.
It was so different,
had something changed?
I smiled and shook it away
too timid to tell you that you tasted of nicotine
and i had given up.

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?

i always forget how stomach wrenching the lows are. When I speak to you and you speak back it feels as if the world falls away. That you are the one whom poets beckoned for, whom stars crafted and whom romantics yearned for. But oh god, how the silence hurts. I'm too busy gliding that I forget the foundations of salt crumbling beneath me. The silence is sharp and red against my soft skin, and stands out as a bark of tree in the ocean. Perhaps I should have the words, "My fault" etched into my skin, so I know where to place blame as I desperately scratch myself away. I find myself once again furious at myself for letting you sink your teeth in and find a home in my arteries.

And now you've apologized. Your face pressed against the cool wood and whispering sweet nothings into the bark. And our love is a circle and I'm going to come back, and I want nothing more than the will power to walk away. How freeing it must be to love without a leash...

When we lie there, counting the stars together,
the warmth of the bonfire still blazing,
and stinging our eyes to tears,
You admit to me that you believe us twin flames.
That we were once conjoined souls, and now
we have found each other again.

The world keeps turning as I process these words.
Twin flames...
This is a proposal you are making.
To tie a band around my finger and cut off my blood flow,
suffocating me back to purple- the colour you loved.

"Stay here" the air around us begs,
"Please don't go so far, this town is enough for now"
Suddenly I feel as Aeneas did,
when tricked by Venus and Juno.
And you have suddenly morphed into Dido before my eyes.

I turn back to the stars, because I cannot bear to see your face,
as I tell you instead, that we are soul mates.
And although I love you with every inch of my heart,
we are Laurie and Jo, and I feel nothing more.

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?

if i cared enough
about you
or the way you think about me
perhaps i'd choose a better
synonym
for our love
but you don't deserve that
and neither do i

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

I spilled treacle on the floor
Not carpet, luckily.
For hours I stared at the mess I made
I sat in it, letting the stickiness consume me
I tried to start to clean
But every moment I thought about it
I sobbed a little bit more
It’s just treacle
Treacle on the floor

I moved eventually
Stuck my hands in and scooped
It slipped through mostly
Resuming on the floor

Where would I put it?
What use do I have for treacle from the floor?

If I walk away from the treacle, it will still be on the floor
If I try to clean it, it will fall back on the floor
If I lay with the treacle, we both stay on the floor

Days go by and no one calls
No one cares that I’m on the floor
Or how long I’ve been here
Or how long I’ll stay
Or why I tried to make a **** today

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

I am well acquainted with Sad.
We have performed a waltz or two,
perhaps a Pas de Deux.
And I thought I liked Sad-
but I suppose that's purely from habit.
And nothing can, nor will compare
to the ecstasy that Anger brings.

I am both a sadist and a *******
When it comes to myself

The brown-eyed boy, a beauty
A distraction
It develops and flourishes
I knock it down

The girl who sings, a star
A nuisance
The roots intertwine
I set the fire

At last
The red-haired girl, my past
My love
The seed begins to bloom
I salt the earth

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

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

I've waited so long to leave,
and to be my own person.
To love, to hurt and to mend.
But in all my wishful thinking,
I forgot who I was leaving.
And I'm not ready to say goodbye.

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

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