At the root of my happiness,
Branching out from my soul
Is the thought that the people I love
Will never leaf me
And it stumps me
Because they are so beautiful
And so full of life
And they love *me.

It doesn't need to be a big reason,
Or a sensible one. All it has to be
Is a good enough reason
For you to maintain your life.

I live for my family, for my friends;
It is difficult sometimes though,
To remember this reason.
But it is always there.

It draws me back into life,
Into breathing and laughing
And hurting and crying
And feeling something akin to *alive.

I tried tearing myself apart,
And cried every day for seven months.

There is no part of you worth losing.
Keep yourself.
So your soul doesn't unravel.

You are a concept;
A drop of water.
You hit a larger body
Of the same water,
Except you create ripples
In the calm of humanity.
It's no bad thing, unless

A storm follows.

Safe:
In the sense that I want bruises.
Sane:
In the sense that I want insanity.
Consensual:
Obviously, but please take.

If the whole worlds a stage, shouldn't you have to pay to watch my show?
As the tempest whirls around us, don't we all wish for a prince to rock up and save us?
Or is Caliban searching and hoping we'll succumb
To the horrors that fall like stars.
In a midsummer nights dream, the boys are all beauties,
All blue eyes and magic and promise.
While he plays an ***, is he mirroring us?
As we double, double, toil and trouble,
The fire burning and bubbling in the inferno we call a heart.
We call out in the dark for our Romeos
Wanting to leave our names behind us
So watch as I unfurl
Like a lily on a pond
Eight petals,
Eight walls,
My globe,
My stage.

My mind is currently a worrying balance
Of love and hate.

The sun is setting and falling and crumbling,
For you.
But you are a part of the sky,
You may fall, on this night,
Your colours will wither
And we will lose a part of you
But in the morning you will become new,
The light I find in you will rise.
We will have you in full colour,
As vibrant as the sun streaked sky,
And it will be okay.
Some day.

Whoever said scars were beautiful
Wasn't really looking.
Scars aren't meant to be pretty,
They're meant to prove something.

They prove that you have lived,
That you were hurt.
Scars show the screaming truth
That life is hard but *possible.

Scars don't hurt,
They itch.

An itch is just a niggling,
Annoying little nail
Dragging down the back of your mind,
Piercing for while you think of it,
There until you forget.

If they hurt, you'd never
Forget that they were there,
Dragging nails through your heart,
Piercing through your skin
For you to always remember.

Itch the scratch of hurt,
Drag nails through your mind and heart
So your scars are never forgotten
But they don't break through your skin.

I cannot describe the quiet in my head when you speak to me.
******, my neck lilts to the side just a little. My ears move towards the sound: the rumble, the promise of soft vibration that I just know will settle the buzzing under my skin.
     My lips part, sometimes in the faintest of smiles; as though the taste of your voice could be pressed to my mouth like a kiss. I ache with the need to feel how you form your words. I ache to feel the movement of your mouth while you whisper and mutter, giggle and moan. I do not care where, I just know I have to feel this.

Do your hands move with the same grace as your voice? Will your body grant me the same stillness as your words?

When you hold me, Darling Boy, will your arms gift me the same safety that your voice gives my mind?

**** everything that moves and breathes and crawls under this sky,*
But pity those who don't understand what it is to live.

I am tired of putting so much care
Into the words I choose for you,
Because of you,
It just doesn't mean that much to you.

Am I cold,
Or scared?

To be loved unconditionally,
And be shown
With a whisper
Of breath on my neck.

I hope I don't talk In my sleep,
Because I know I talk a lot when
I'm awake but If I sleep talk,
You'll find out Just how lonely
I
                    am
at
           night.

What goes on back stage?
Beyond the gears and the wires and chords,
Is there a woman all in black in love with the lead?
Or a beautiful gentleman who was just too shy
To apply?
To go in for the singing and dancing and fear
That he might just do it all wrong.

Floating just below the surface,
My hair splayed out around me
In the bath, or the sea, or space.
I am weightless,
Timeless,
Ageless,

*Powerless.

Slam in your head,
Slam your glass down.
Slam your fist
Into the closest wall.
Slam once again,
Slam for the pain.
Slam for hurt
Or nothing at all.

Today, you told me I was quiet when I spoke
But I sound pretty loud in my head.
Maybe its my thoughts competing Inside
That blocks what tends to come out.

Let's drop a glass on the floor, shall we?
Watch it fall.
Focusing on it, the deliberate loosening
Of your hand.
Did the wine inside catch the light?
Did it reflect?
Did you see your eyes, your face?
That small smile.
The smile that shows you know how loud
This will be.
Do you see the base of the glass kiss
The marbled ground?
The first splinter moves up the stem; your
Smile gets bigger.
Splinters spread and the wine blooms
From the cracks.
But no one looks around to see what
The noise was.
They carry on their lives while you
Expect to be
The centre of something for once in
A long while.
You want to turn heads in a room
While you smash.

Crushed under the weight of my desire for affection.

Find someone, broken people,
Who fills your mind with stars,
Who allows the cosmos into your veins
Without ever breaking your skin.
Never settle for anything or anyone less,
Than a creature who cocoons you
And holds you,
When  your sky is falling down.

My head burns;
My heart yearns,
For someone to hold me
And tell me
That it's okay to cry.

Sitting in the back of a theatre,
Not knowing the production by name,
Knowing what minute the curtain will rise.
While the end of the show is untold.

My mind is screaming

Silence can't come soon enough

At the mad Hatter's tea party,
I sit far away from the rabble
Of tea *** mice and twitchy hares.
Little me, little Alice, falling
Down the rabbit hole
And not knowing what is me
And what is not.

There's static on my brain,
Except I can't ground it
I can't make it leave
By wiping it away with my hand

When I touch it, it shocks my hand
And makes me shake
And fogs my mind
And I can't stomp it out

Panic is a fog of static
Its there, you know its there
But you can't. can't
Do anything about it.

I will stop thinking this way.
I have not disappointed anyone.*
I just couldn't keep everyone safe.
i hate myself.

Crashing down on the shores of not enough sleep,
Being carried away by the promise of another chance
To lay my head down, to let my mind calm
But it's only ever the same conclusion;
Insomnia is wrecking my ship.

I much prefer studying chemistry
With you.

Cutting you makes us both bleed.

I'm falling down at the same time as you
So take my hand and at least
When we hit the bottom,
We'll have something to cling to.
It won't make us rise faster
But at least we might stand a chance.

Shouldn't being the minority make you kinder?
You've known misery, at the hands of the big fish;
The small and unknown get crushed.
But you find your ground and burn your way out
With guns and bombs and *fear.