People keep forgetting
About those who
Are left behind.
Stop glorifying something
That makes those
Who cared feel
Like they did
Something wrong by
Going to sleep
While their friend,
Or lover or
Parent or sibling
Took pills in
The bathroom or
Jumped and fled
From the only
Life they were
Going to get.

Look above, look below
Look at how I fly.
Through the hoops and loops you gave

Look in the corridors, the halls,
The prison I'm kept in,
Set me free from the walls you gave

Look in the classes, the rooms
Filled with knowledge and desperation
Set me free from the books you gave

Look at the tears, the flush
Of the girl you've destroyed
Set me free from the shackles you gave

I know the world is terrifying and black skies cover us all, but sometimes a small cloud of light will pass over us, carried by the breeze. The wind itself will hold the smells of tomorrow while the cloud will hold no scent, no sound. It will be but a light. In it though, we will see yesterday, dynasties past, kingdoms that rose and fell and flying cities. In this cloud you will have sat on a throne and commanded an army. You will have sat in a rocking chair and read to children while they pout, as children do. This cloud of every and no colour will call to you and pull on your soul until you forget that the sky is black and terrifying and all-consuming. For that is what a day dream is for. Now go back and make the colours invert. Make the sky golden and the clouds black. Make this world your kingdom, your dynasty. The classroom clock won't tick in the world if you make it for yourself. Make your own time and write your own world.

Your body tries so hard to make you function all the time even though you don't feed it enough and you cut it open and hit it and don't let it rest enough. Your body runs on instinct and its just breaking my heart cause your head blames your body and your body blames you head but they're not separate and it just not fair on either part of you.

High above us, unreachable until they choose to fall
are the words we crave to write, in this moment.
In a few minutes, we'll want to write another tale,
another heart wrenching emotion.
We will want to show the world that we can feel,
but soon, I wont know why I wrote this,
because the clouds will have shifted,
and so goes my inspiration.

You came into the kitchen with me after watching the good dinosaur. You stood behind me and said "oh my god I have a Grace." You looked so genuinely happy about it and I kissed you for a long moment. When we broke the kiss, you said "I just got the best kind of butterflies." And I didn't know how to respond because it made me so bubbly that I just held you and you held me. Until of course your dad came in and we had to stop being cute.

Family,
Friends,
Lover,
Sister,
Mother and
Father,
My dear.

Christopher.
Bella.
Ross.
Jem.
Heather.
Ellen.
Alice.

There are things I owe to people,
Which I will never repay,
So I will do my best by you,
And settle this debt each day.

Tiny little half moons,
four of them
in the palm of my hand.

Dear those who have been given that message,
From a doctor or from your lover who was told by a nurse.
I am so sorry that you have to end.
I am envious though, that you have a time frame;
I am scared of living and not knowing when I will die.
Will they find a lump in my lung,
Or me as the lump on the side of the road?
I fear not knowing that this breath, or the next is my last,
And though I am jealous that you know this,
I am so **** sorry that you do.

Never forget the days you're surrounded by happy people,
They matter as much as the days you're surrounded by the sad.

I am reading the title of this,
And I am crying.

It'd be so nice, for my mother
To look at me

And think of how amazing
I am to be.

But instead, she looks at me
Like this.

It was snowing,
And all I wanted
Was to warm my toes
On your tummy.

We cooked our dinner,
And we sat by one another,
Grinning,
Because what else was there to say?
In candlelight,
We were humming silently
To the tune of the other,
At peace.

We stand on ants,
We pinch and punch in the playground,
We kick and claw in alleyways,
Slap and bite in the bedroom.
Guns and bombs and knives,
We're all killers,
We're all cursed.

We are crying into the
Echos of nothing,
Shattering things that
Were never whole.
Drink from your
Broken glass, my dear
And pray the shards
Don't cut.

I am strolling.
Walking,
Waiting.
Standing,
Watching,
Waaaaiiiting.
I am sleeping,
Suspended in the glow,
Of my absolute inability
To use words.

I am tidying my room,
Because it will get messy again.

My dad is cooking us dinner,
Because we will get hungry again.

Mother earns some money,
To replace that which we spent,
Again.

I want to do something,
For the first time,

Again.

You were tapping out my heartbeat
On my knee,
And I was so tired that all I could do was smile,
But that was okay, because the silence
Made you warmer, safer;
The beautiful boy protecting me from the world.

You are the ink splash that fell from my eye,
As I started to cry,
For all I lost and would never find,
Or all that I simply left behind.
You are the door I slammed shut,
The punch in my gut,
As I realised I'd never
Love you again.

Imagine if instead of counting up,
We counted down.

We counted down, were
Issued a number of days.

And it would start in the thousands,
Until one day you noticed.

It was in the hundreds,
Where have the days gone?

You thought you had so many;
Now there's only one.

shadows are falling,
clouds and people and buildings and trees
crowd all around us as our stomachs crawl
from the graves we dug ourselves early,
just in case we need them.
*we do.

I will walk down a road someday,
In a city, or a village, or some country lane,
And I will no longer look behind me.
I will know the brick colour,
Of my house and the one next door,
But I will remember, that this place,
This home of mine, was new to me
And you, once.
Once, we were travellers.

With all this obsession about
Protecting youths from the world,
We forget that they too can hold
Guns and blades
Up to their own throats.

Love as hard as you hate, broken people.
Just because it hurts doesn't mean
It should become bigger, more consuming
Than kissing, laughing, smiling.

I don't feel real.

Aren't we all so close to the end
And the beginning of things?
I am so close to the end of this day,
The beginning of my coursework,
Which I should've started three weeks ago,
And I  so close
To my next kiss
With you.