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 May 2017 Iris Madden
Bunny
People often tell me that
I live in a fantasy land
I tell them it's true
If I didn't have my imagination
I couldn't survive my reality
What am I to you?
Ugly. Insecure.
Disgusting. Pathetic.
Exists only when you need me.

Flowers grow where she walks
But you grow thorns and thistles
I don't hate you.
I just miss the 'better, kinder' you.
 Apr 2017 Iris Madden
abby
sparks
 Apr 2017 Iris Madden
abby
In this moment all I can possibly wonder is the way I will remember you,
Will I remember the sweat on your bottom lip, like thumb tacks puncturing a map,
Puncturing the places I would like to visit;

Or will I remember the way your eyes look in sunlight,
Iridescent and blue like the sea the day after a storm.
Except you are not a reflection of something else.
You have not shriveled up and died,
Or reserected yourself from your most sinuous nightmare.

I always wanted to take you apart ; leave your fragments to sun dry.

That is the silver barrier that separates us,
I am wasted potential, a sick twisted mind, I will spit in your mouth and smile.
I have been thrown to the vultures,
And although I clawed my way out,
Something inside of me has died.
A candle has burned out;
And then there’s you.
And you light up the sky with sparks,
And set my whole world ablaze.

We are burning,
Burning down the cities and engulfing the towns,
Swamping the planet with embers.
We are a flood of inferno,
A glittering holocaust.

I have loved before, and that was much softer,
It’s different when you don’t know how bad it hurts. I could write a book about all the different places in my body I felt heartbreak.

I wonder if I will always carry this flame with me. I could keep my heart in my pocket, leave my memories in the photo frames and card board boxes.

Oh dear,
If only it was that easy.
 Apr 2017 Iris Madden
kelly jane
This, that on conception and analysis
Seems easy and appropriate
On practice is worst
Than being tortured as a prisoner
To admit the truth
Feels like experimenting the literal bleeding
Of the most important ***** in one's body
And once task completed
It feels like the worst has been done
By the practicer.
If the whole world but a stage be
Whose cast of characters are we,
What genre fits your life story,
A thriller, farce or comedy?
A romance or perhaps maybe
Drama, action, or tragedy?

Would you be the stage manager,
The producer or director?
Would you be the lead character,
Or play a supporting role or
Just appear occasionally,
Happy just an extra to be?

And when the final curtain falls
Will you have given it your all?
Will others demand an encore
Or will they have expected more?
But of the most significance....
How will you rate your performance?
I love you like clocks
breaking their arms
on my bed,
trying to stop time
from making me forget
what you looked like.
My pure heart was dead inside
As the ghost watched us from across the room.
Filling our heads with ***** thoughts
And our veins with more whiskey.
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