folding the pages to an escape
consume the clarity
worth the calories?
cut cut cut
you ate. You stupid *****.

the edible woman.
girl, interrupted.

my eyes track along the shapes of my sanctity
a little train to my escape
i run as fast as my eyes can carry me.
isolated in my alphabets

my bell jar.

the Grecian shapes have fenced around me
but I'm snug as a gun.
and i cannot force myself to my own conceit.

Seamus Heaney
Shakespeare

my true friends.
listen to me. Speak to me
through their squiggles and stories.
who don't ask me to eat.

Hi there, I'm a bruise.
I'm a pretty colour and a funny shape
I'm a little cloud of your broken blood vessels.
ive been punched into your flesh
perhaps an accident.
perhaps fate.

maybe I'm here to express an anger with the world
maybe I'm a product of boredom or self-hatred
maybe I'm here to annoy your parents
maybe I'm here to show everyone you don't care about looks
maybe I'm here because your addicted to pain the way im addicted to you.

i crave your blood to give me my pretty colour
you'll forget about me in a week
you're my everything; i wouldn't be here without you
im a small mark on your upper thigh or arm.
im bright and purple proud to be a part of you
you hide me away because you're secretly ashamed.

you'll go on to discover your own greatness
and forget about the little bruise on your life.
the crazy ***** who pulled you down like an anchor
for a few months.

i will happily fade from your skins
from your life.
i will happily disappear and let you go
because i need you more than you need me.
you'll sail your ship to brilliance
and forget about that little bruise.
ill never forget you.

i need Your hand in mine forever.
i crave your thumb's pulse breathing on mine.
you say you love me too.
our thumbs entwined;
they can break these bricks
they can set us free
from all the *******.

i embarrass him.
its obvious
the lies. the glances.
i know.

all i can do is stop eating again
and  jog for a few more hours.
but even then he'd think i was a freak.

he doesn't care about
what these boys have done to me.
scaring me half to death.
he doesn't care i wont eat for 4 days before i see him.

i just embarrass him.
that's all he wants to know.
that's all he cares about.

There is no great guide and conductor
taking you through some great plan.
you wont get through any golden gates
because you were scared into doing good.
chances are chances and wishes are wishes,
not a preplanned destiny.
Do things because theyre right
not because some character in the clouds
told you to.

guide yourself through good and bad
have faith in that maybe we're responsible
for our own greatness.
have faith in us as a species and not a
sim-ulated play mate.

i sleep with a light on
because I'm scared of the dark.
my mind tells me there are dangers of the dark.
sleeping in the dark wont hurt me.
in many ways the dark is my light.
you might think so too.

You've never taken bad news well
I've never been that good at creating bad news.
I live to please and
you live to hear how pleasant you are.
how could this not work?

My apparent appetite for destruction shone through.

i live to protect you.
i wrap my scarred arms around you
preserve your untouched innocence.
but who protects me in such a land of gods and monsters?
noone.
not you.

so why do i find it so hard to say goodbye?
we do nothing for each other.
you feed off me like a leech
i lay and let you like roadkill.
this needs to end.

but who will end it all?

You've never taken bad news well
I've never been that good at creating bad news.
I live to please and
you live to hear how pleasant you are.
how could this not work?

My apparent appetite for destruction shone through.

i live to protect you.
i wrap my scarred arms around you
preserve your untouched innocence.
but who protects me in such a land of gods and monsters?
noone.
not you.

so why do i find it so hard to say goodbye?
we do nothing for each other.
you feed off me like a leech
i lay and let you like roadkill.
this needs to end.

but who will end it all?

Everything.
i love everything about you.

each Fluttering Blonde Eyelash
grant wishes that i can only hope of

each crease in your Lips
every rib of their soft pink kisses leave

each flicker of your Blue Green Silver Yellow Eyes
smiling at me without moving your Mouth.

i love your Hands
find their way around
my waste
without your eyes
despite its disgusting 9 meter span.

i love how You know what im thinking
or atleast the things i let my eyes tell you.

i love Everything about you.
i love You.

Infinitely.

Lost in you.
like Alice lost in her burrow.
falling, falling
uncontrollable.
embracing your gravity.

i bury my head in your chest.
your smell enters my lungs.
ill keep it locked there forever.
Comfort.
your hand strokes under the old wool that covers me;
your bare skin on mine.
Your hand feeling the ridges of my spine
that i wish would protrude more.
I wish I was perfect for you.

i adore your touch.
I crave your lips.
Speaking singing kissing quarrelling.
i burrow into you like the rabbit into it's home.
i feel safe and protected.
I am.
You are.

My protector.
My force field. Protecting me against the world.
You kiss my cheekbones and collarbones
unknowing that they're my best features
because they are visible, tangible,
evidence.
feeling your kiss is euphoria.
your touch could end the world.
i love you.

i can fall into you.
i can collapse.

I can unfold all my secrets
as if you were to pick a colour and number for me to tell you if you'd be rich some day.
Teenage lovers.
Lost in lust and so the called meaningless poetry of a fresh and first love's so keen sting.

I demolish all walls and guards.
I lose all control. But i feel safe.

you know i don't eat,
you know I'm ******* crazy.
you know in searching for my own controls.
you come back still.
my protector.
my sweet and only love.

I know
I'm your second chance
at life.
I'm the second you.
Pressure.
I'm not doing too well
and neither are you.

4 kids. Depressed. Hopeless. Crying under the stars.

I cut. I purge. I fast. I cry. I keep too many secrets.

we were meant for each other.
We just weren't meant to be.

i still feel the urge
of the clear water of escape and roughly 90 sleepy circles,
and the call of the shiny one who shows me my own
haemoglobin.
i still want to float away to the clouds in silence
in the still air of tranquility of nothingness
i still yearn to be nothingness
to become the air we breath

but i cant bare to leave you.
not here.

She cries.
why
i don't know
why
a terrible sister.
My Baby.

Her little earths;
sky blues, criss-crossed like what is
a lime electric bolt
darting, swimming
round a black hole
dilated in the dark
as she weeps
they become inflamed little earths
floating in the lava of her distress.

passion of
sadness anger happiness guilt
i do not know.
her soft white cheeks
now puffed and flushed

she breathes heavily
disguises her body's cries for help
wiping her button nose.
now wet.
her own winter.
she weeps i don't know why

i ask
i make jokes about mutual dislikes

she smiles;
she slips her fair lips
into a bended shape
lets her eyebrows drop down when she thinks i wont look
her beautiful blues watering with her gloss
release one last drop of her ocean

a whole tsunami to me.

she weeps.
my throat chokes up
i love her
she cannot be sad
i love her.
My Baby
sister.
i love her.
im a terrible protector.
i love her i must
protect her.

Sunshine yawns, stretches and cracks through the sullen black out curtains of december.
it shudders my eyes to see what's like an earthquake in the sky.
mighty cries of yellow and gold speed through the coal of my horizon like a bamboo vine
like the wrinkles and ***** of an old school football beaten and broken by the ***** shoes of nasty schoolboys
frightening the mighty oppressors.

Seasonal Affective Disorder

I walk
I with a capital I because the quake of light resolves my sadness for a second or two.

a stillness in the air that
all that is lost is lost
and all that is won is won
and all we can do is rejoice in the now.

the light
presses the skeletons of naked wintered trees onto the bus' window
now pale and murky with the last of the black frost.
their bony fingers wrapped around my bus with the natural cradle of a mother to her new born babe.
I am one.
white puffs of yes tickle the big blue pond of nothingness while
steel bands of gold stretch across what was once such a dark and frightening place where i would become withered and broken as a plant beside a patient,
dying with them.
stretches over me like I'm looking up from beneath the bridge
instead of down to the sea below.

the sunlight washes an old town in gold
making it clean again.
the darkness is over and the new has begun.
all we have to do
hell, all we can do
is absorb it.
experience it.
survive it.
my pestering thoughts join me in looking across at what has been the source or so many sleepless nights for me and others;
together in peace for a few tender moments,
a football game in 1914, Christmas day.
January is now
spring is now
life is now.
he is here.
sunlight has awoken and is laughing with me once more.
I am in love.
and I am happy.

the bells of spring
peel like the layers of darkness above my head.
life is infinite once more
and the sunlight dances on the grave of sadness
and the world plays in major chord again.

Privacy to sing;
             to think;
             to dance;
             to slice.

to be or not to be

left with my thoughts
let them stir themselves
like a spoilt stew
or limp, useless, worthless, rotten meat
that's good for nothing.
dead and left for
flies and worms;

i hath made worms meat of me.

deserted and alone
with my inner most thoughts;
                                desires;
                                wants;
                                passions;  

My sacred groove
My sanctity
My hollow alter and
Ceramic pool of most holiest
tap water.
Locked.

Where noone can capture
my hunchback, deformed, depressed
thoughts and passions
As I Cry
Sanctity.

where they cannot be killed
where i can bow so stubborn knees
but
not regret the effects of mine crimes?

help angels, make assay.

i am naked
i am relieved
i am pleasured
i am truthful
in this hollow tub of release
i thank whoever invented indoor plumbing
for my madness and sanity

for all that glitters is not gold.

These lightning bolts
these forks of electricity
what drove Billy Elliot to dance
is driving me to be happy

hunger pains;
the closest to magic ill ever know

the closest to wonder ill ever feel

5 or 6 days
no food
just numbers
just food

addicted to the pain
that crippled me in two
that sheds salt from my eyes
it means its working
all my hard work is paying off.
ill become skinnier
less of a beast
less of a fat ape
less of a life potato.

drop a few pounds
bragging about the time i fasted for 8 days and
lost 16lbs.
beautiful.

collar bones
jaw bones
ribs
hips
femurs
transform me.

Killing me.
that's what you're doing.
making parallels.
using parallels.

take those parallels.
scrunch them up.
wrap them up in your fist
call them your own
keep them warm in your hand
in your safety
drive them secretly insane.
your innocence.
my mind.

take your squiggled straight lines.
reapply them.
that's what you're really doing to me.

The stuff of bliss
keep it
in your breast.

The stuff that makes you thunder with laughter
when you fall or dampen or **** or burp;
the stuff that makes you spread your lips
when they kiss you;
the stuff that makes your priorities
surround sneaking out to see the moon
or desiring to blister in the sun just to have a touch of another land;
the magic that means you don't take life
seriously at all;
that makes you cry, laugh and scream with anger.

keep the magic that makes you express
pound against your ribs, under your breast.
until it dies with you.

lets go for a Starbucks and instagram our every move;
lets document our lives via Facebook photo filter;
lets make cocktails that we'll never drink and only photograph and that we'll stir with sticks we'd rather stab into each others eyes;
lets stretch our skin into smiles so noone will say but they thought you were friends.
lets drink lambrini because she doesn't like *****;
lets not ask if she doesn't like ***** because she might show some human emotion or express feeling about her parents' loveless marriage and her tutu barbie pink childhood;
lets go to parties and not remember them
because we didn't do anything except pose for flashes for people we don't like but strive to satisfy;

lets paint our lips with the colour of secrets:
untold tales of how mummy and daddy hate each other;
or how girls are more attractive than boys;
or that Oscar Wilde will always be hotter than Justin Bieber.

the art of being a "white" girl.
white because there can be no colour in a dictatorship.
she strings her puppets,
has them clap their hands and polish her shoes
when really
WE SHOULD TOTALLY JUST STAB CAESAR

With every fragment and fibre of my being brain body soul and spirit
I love you and I'll die for you.
You don't need to love me back.
You can hate me.
But this love exists inside of me;
a most dark and dorset place.

You don't need to love me back.
Because we existed once.
at one point.
And That's all i really need.

To be a Mrs Joe
or become a lady
Havisham?
I weep for him
I weep for him
I weep for him and me.
I lose tears salted with his stress
or his concealed thoughts plugging up
his brilliant mind
i weep
about him, about me
about us

there's no shame in being pure
we're all pure at once
there's no shame.
To him there is.
in the doubts of his voice and tongue
there is shame.

i love him.

i love him with everything i have
everything i see
everything i believe or know
i willingly give to him but
he loves me not.
ill slip him some purple petals
dipped in yellow stigmas or become
a ghost of a girlfriend.
a ghoul of a lover.

one insignificant link in a long shackled chain of
exs
forever bound in his vast memory and mind
as
"*****" "cow" "****" "ungrateful" "unworthy"

Am I Cleoparra?
Mrs Joe? Havisham?
Estella?

I have no twinkling green eyes
i have no slender waist or
vast, indefeatable wit
i have no enigmatic undeniable beauty
That would quake the heavens and make angels sing and string Apollo's lyre
or beam such light that would Diana's breast
i am insignificant
.unspecial.
he is special.

i believe in no such god
but he would be my proof
my tear of hope
a small ray of belief and defiance
tearing apart a black unbelieving universe

i am a passing pair of peepers
he'll see a million as insignificant as i

ill only know a love like this
once.
For him.

he should live forever
he will
if not this world in a wasteland

am i Estella?
Cleopatra? Mrs Joe?
Miss Havisham?