Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ind Mar 2020
A repeated feat, just as dusk lusts for dawn:
Nights blend seemlessly with the days they seek.
Infatuation to the greatest degree
because if it was love, they'd have found a way to suceed.
Sun would share the sky with stars,
a liminal space split in half.
The ultimate comprimise for exisiting.  
When will the missing them dull to an ache I can bare?
or is this the price?
Would the abscene of pain simply mean the abscene of them?
because if so,
I'd rather dispare in the knowledge that just like the dawn,
I'm cursed to an eternity one step before them,
forever casting shadows.
Escapril day 1
Ind Sep 2019
“Because when you come out to me there’ll be one of three reactions.
I’ll either laugh, I’ll cry, or I’ll give you a big hug.
Or maybe a fourth - I’ll look you in the eye and ask who’s surprised.”
And I said
“Nice to know.
I’ll bare that in mind for two years down the line when I finally have the courage to tell you”

- coming out to my Godmother

(12/09/19)
Ind Sep 2019
We need to find a new space of revolution,
Beyond this place of pollution.
Democracy’s dying - the chambers of brick and bone can no longer hone the power effectively,
And besides, the mortars crumbling.
Grumbles echo between screens until the rumbles bubble then burst and tumble onto the streets,
but cries are few and weak.
The masses are meek.
‘To question the system is extreme’ media teams scream while they profit from the chaos and hide behind headlines.
The bourgeoisie sit comfortably as their bunkers are fortified,
Happy to capitalise on destruction and dramatise death.
Their crimes are discreet,
And steeped in deceit,
Yet they remain unburdened by the bodies that pile at their feet.
Why bother searching for answers when science is censored and senses are dulled?
They want us senseless,
Immune and desensitised to the countless lies and ecocide.
“Not our species, not our problem”
But it’s both and more.
Our streets,
Our future,
Our planet.
When will the lesson sink in?
When pollution is skin deep and soil bares only the spoils of war?
The climate crisis takes no prisoners, favours neither rich nor poor.
Your wealth can’t save you.
Ind Jul 2019
O how the Rose wilts as blood seeps from sly lips
And rouge petals turn crimson.
A fresh stain on old domain -
Surprise! They’ll never change.
Roses grow best in horse ****.
Ind Apr 2019
Roots
deep and twisted
twists those who should know better.
The weathers changing,
We’ve past the point of blaming,
But know this earth is it.

Beware the warnings she leaves in rising, warming seas.
Listen to her expertise.
We all breathe the same air but only few care - those two degrees are deadly.

A guest who steals will never walk through the same door twice.
Take her advice and harvest only want can be replaced - don’t lace food with chemicals distilled from fuel you were never meant to use.

Nature won’t always be there to go to back to.
Feels incomplete but kinda like the gist of it - it’s as messy as the situation
Ind Apr 2019
Bitten blooded flesh;
Proof of the demon in her head
that gnawed away,
Stealing days like takeaway cups
filled to the brim with saucy sin,
seven layers of deceit.
Next page