loving you feels like a revolution.
In your embrace
I hear my ancestors sing.
And they tell me:
Hold her, tighter, tighter

And our love feels ancient,
Like our lives have been forever intertwined.
Like the vines of our souls have grown together
For centuries past
and separating them now,
is inconceivable.

It gets harder to imagine
me without you
as every day passes,
harder to imagine
you without me
as we get closer to the time
that it will be
day by day

I hate it when they call me cute,
or pretty.
I am so much more.
So much ******* more.
I could destroy you.

I am an intelligent being,
capable of many things,
i carve my path in life;
I do not search for your approval.
I do not need your validation
of my outward appearance
to feel accepted.
I am aware of my own self,
and all that I possess,
so much more than 'cute'.

Save me from hearing
your stupid compliments
None of what you say to me,
has not been said
to every girl before.

Your face doesn't seem to belong there,
On your head.
A child supplied with glue,
You stuck it there.
I don't believe you when you say it was always there.

And all the dimensions of the universe have changed,
reversed,
In some kind of dream land
Where nothing can be trusted
Not your face nor your voice nor your scent.

Watch out! I say
They're coming closer,
What if they can tell.
And i study your face to see if you've heard me,
Did my voice sound out, or was it just in my head?

For now my mind has no limits
It is thrown about by a misplaced equilibrium,
Which has forgotten it's own limits
It's own basis of equality.

So I take your hand in mine,
And your hand becomes me, as I become You
and we try our best to run,
Although everything conspires against us,
And we laugh in our secret escaping.

She wrote about how to write a poem.
Ironic instructions in tiny letters,
Scratched out and scrawled in,
Words flowing as she flew,
Further and further away from me.

And in her words I put myself,
Imagine she might be writing with me in mind,
When she mentioned the girl she'd only just met,
with limited memories,
Of huge significance,
but also possibly no significance at all.
Because who really knows.
It's not the event itself that's important,
it's the value we place upon it all in hindsight.

But I can say, that every moment with her
Has held some form of significance to me.
Each time we've held hands,
It's felt monumental in some way.
And each time i've seen her face,
- all three occasions -
the light in her eyes has seemed profound.

And i don't know if it really has to mean anything
but i'm glad to have met her,
to have discovered this connection,
As strangely brief as our interaction may be.
Better to have known her little,
than to have missed her all my life.

Salty water from the ocean's lips
kissing upon fresh raw skin
wetter than the shine of your eyes
when i knew you were holding back.
And i will sit upon the dunes
where we once sat
and write to you letters of love
soon to be lost in the wind.
Up on the cliff face
where five of us gathered,
slightly out of mind,
and soaked up the scenery.
We sat and stared
Juicing all before us,
Squeezing out all we could
Attempting to hold the moment forever.
But every moment ends,
as all else,
And eventually,
as the sun lowered his gaze,
we had to turn to leave.

You left what seems like a forever ago,
leaving only vague memories,
juiced and bottled
and stacked neatly in the pantry.

I’m not sure if it’s a suicide attempt.
It seems all too plausible that my organs are trying to commit
They jump up, far too high, and cut off my breathing
Then fall down
Gathering their weight to slam themselves into the pit of my being
And up again to crush once more down
Up, down, up, down
My heart increases its beating to catch up
My fists clench
My fingernails dig into my skin
My hair stands on end
Surely you were sent to destroy.

She drives me crazy
I can’t think unless it’s about her,
Can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t distract myself at all
It’s all her.
Everything is her.

And so one little sadness,
Becomes a multitude of sadnesses.
How could I ever be without her?
How was I ever?
It’s all inconceivable to my her-addled brain.
Everything is her.

I would change my life,
Do anything she asked,
Whatever the cost
Sails a million seas,
Or cross a billion deserts,
**** a man if necessary,
Everything is her.

And she won’t look at me anymore,
She’s won’t talk to me,
She doesn’t want me
But everything is her.
How can I be without her?
I’ll have to learn to be nothing.

i think she'll break my heart one day

I got a new tattoo today,
Of a cat peering round a corner
That Sylvia Plath herself once drew.

It was printed out and traced around
And then put on my arm
Up tight against my skin,
Where the blue ink could leave it's picture.

I sat on a stool with my arm outstretched
And he followed the trace around
With a needle dipped in black.
There was sharp pain
And tingles
And my arm started to go dead as he leaned on it.

He wore a sailor hat over his dark hair,
Tattoos up and down his arms,
Is that a tattoo of an oven?
Yes.
And we talked about old comics,
How they all started as horrors,
Penny gruesomes they used to be.

The ink was injected beneath my skin,
So that i could how onto Sylvia's drawing,
for the rest of life.
SP, it's signed with.

Guess I'm a literary type.

I am tragedy,
and i carry it with me wherever I go.
I am lost and alone,
at home and in crowds.
Pin ****** on goose-pimpled skin,
barely visible to the well dressed eye,
and less so to the naked.
I am the hopelessness you thought you'd escaped.
I wither with each day,
growing younger,
full of potential to waste.
Full of the potential desire
to finish this cruel tale,
I know now where it is going,
I get bored easily,
and such a story as this
hardly seems worth my time anymore.

Je t’aime,
Mon amour, presque parfait,
Since dancing below a canopy of ever-changing branches,
With the free flying embers of a campfire,
And myself hallucinating with happiness,
Over frozen ground
In the night’s darkest hours
My hands on your body
And in your hair
Your eyes reaching out
Demanding attention,
Willingly or otherwise.

You hypnotize me,
I can’t bear to look away.
And it is so strange,
To feel so at one,
I could’ve known you forever
My fleeting love,
My disappearing friend,
My beautiful creature.

You are not of this time,
Not of this world.
You surprise me
And teach me
And excite me
Mon amour,
Mon amour,
I could’ve known you forever,
I will love you forever.

''I'm not convinced that I am doing it right." the little girl said,
And she tilted the glass so the insides slipped out.
The moon gazed down and shook his head,
"No, no, not at all, my dear, my sweet."
She hung her arms low, so her fingers grazed the soil.
"I'm trying, I'm trying!" the little girl moaned.
And from the dirt appeared a worm,
"Not enough, not enough." was all that she heard.

And down she fell to the ground in a heap.

Sliced from forehead to toe-tip
i am the naked
revealed.
what is seen cannot be reversed,
for all your scarves and blindfolds.
And I fear, sir,
That you have seen my soul.
In crowed rooms you hunted me,
singled out my tattered being for your prey.
I prayed like the mantis
to a mythical power for salvation,
but your eyes, relentless as your hands,
made me beneath you and before you,
to come undone.
If smite i could,
trust this; I would.
you are no kind soul
looking to help the weary traveler.
you are, as ever,
the vulture in disguise.
I am coming to believe
there exists nothing else.
I am only of worth
as long as i am of use.
And lately i only feel useless.

Eight days before christmas
and his knees were aching worse than ever,
bitter winds had never done them any good,
nor had the weather's indecisiveness.

Eight days before christmas
and he ate in silence at dinner.
Two bowls of pumpkin soup.
The ladies at his table ignored him.
He fell momentarily asleep in his chair,
and when woken up to take his pills,
realised he'd been left sitting alone again.

Eight days before christmas
and he wasn't sure anymore
of what he was supposed to do.
He'd tried to ask people walking past,
but they either hurried off
or sent him in the direction of his room
where he had nothing to do
but sit and think
and be so aware of his solitude.

Eight days before christmas
and the nurse asked what she could do for him.
He smiled and with a worn and wrinkled finger
Pretended to slice open his throat.
She thought he was joking.

Eight days before christmas
and he ascended the stairs to the second floor.
He found an empty room,
and entered, closing the door behind him.

Eight days before christmas
he approached the window
and with shaking hands undid the clasp.

Eight days before christmas
he pushed the window as far open as he could,
he stepped out on to the ledge
and sat there for a while
wishing he could find the guts to jump.

Eight days before christmas
he hoped like hell he would not see
his 87th christmas eve.

I realised why she walked so slow,
She never wanted to get anywhere.
And now I realise why you rush on past,
You never want to end up back where you were.

You fear that upon slowing down
The past would catch up to you,
Panting and hanging his head low,
Saying "It's taken me forever to find you!"
And you'd reply "Forever went too quickly."

If you keep walking in a straight line,
Holding up your head,
Eyes facing forward,
Arms swinging to keep up your pace,
And mind preoccupied by passing cars,
You won't end up back there.

Unless it's all a circle,
An unending loop,
And the faster you stride ahead,
The sooner you'll reach your end.

Was willst du, was brauchst du?
- what do you want? What do you need?

Would the smell of my hair,
Or touch of my hand surfice?
Or prehaps solve everything?
Or do you need more?

Possibly the sound of my breath,
Could ease your beating heart;
Heavy and upset.

Or the taste of my lips against your own,
your neck,
your skin
- prehaps that could help to still your sense of unease,
Your certainty that nothing is quite how it should be.

And if not, my dear,
If all my attempts remain futile,
And lead to no bettering
The last I have to offer are my eyes.
Look deep, lover,
Pull me apart, piece by piece,
bit by bit
- and do not be frightened by what you see.
Until no doubt remains that you know every colour,
line and speck and space.

Then tell me, sweet one,
Is it all gone?

My rat had babies,
five days ago.
They are eight in number,
little pink and black wrinkly fingers.
Closed eyes,
Ears not fully formed,
Wriggling on my palm
in the depths of their sleeping.
I came home late last night,
and i was drawn to see them,
so i went and felt for them, hiding in their nest.
A hair twisted around one's neck and one's foot.
Tweezers and pins and delicate maneuvering,
allowed us to get them free.
They are ok now,
but one wee boy will limp his first steps
even though i stayed up all night,
raising his leg and massaging it,
hoping to drain fluid from his swollen limb,
giving him kisses
and casting healing spells.
Good vibes don't fix everything.

Rabid foxes in the wilderness,
Darkened eyes piercing through.
Your hair stands like a halo-
You are easy to distinguish.

I’d take your hand,
If you’d allow.
Please excuse me if my palm grows damp
Beneath yours,
And the magnificence of the Sun,
and the Lights,
and the Excitement – barely contained in the Breath.

But soon the warmth washes away,
This hand beneath mine grows cold.
Stiffness floods the fingers,
Flesh becomes as concrete-
No more human than the pavement i tread on.

The foxes come to collect you,
And i must let you go.

Every sip,
Closer to immortality.
Take my thoughts with you,
When you go.

I dream only of demise.
Yours often,
My own more frequently.
Maybe that makes me selfish.
Maybe I am.

In here I reside.
Within myself.
Block away the outside,
Slowly eroding,
Perfecting this darkness,
In which I am swallowed.

I must be crazed.
As far as my feet will wander,
My mind never drifts from you.

Wisps of brilliance float upon the breeze,
Markers to show where to go –
One must follow the right path.
Do not misread the signs.
Everything depends upon the signs.

Close your eyes and dreams sweet dreams,
Kinder and softer than any world you’ve ever witnessed.

Smiles without teeth
and eyes without whites
Are far less threatening.
Perhaps approachment under such conditions
Might be acceptable,
Might be allowed.

My dear,
My lovely,
My sweet!
I cannot wait to hold you.

I have no problems with reality,
Not a one.
For my reality has been kind to me.

She is not the hard unchangeable reality whom others face,
But an easily molded reality.
A reality I can all too simply alter.

My reality is maleable.

The paper goes down,
Disintegrating under the tongue,
And enlightenment goes up,
All these new realities i'd missed before.
The colours all increase,
Each sensation felt as though via magnifying glass.
A vivid, deep reality arrives.

The bottle tips up,
And boredom- bred of a mundane life,
And sadness- for no particular reason,
Flow out.
A blurrier and faster paced reality sets in.
Much better.
Much better.

And one might forget everything -
in my reality that is.
So many nights never truly occurred.
I had nothing to do with that long-haired boy,
The accepting of his alcohol,
The ripping of his shirt,
The kissing of his neck.

In your harsh reality truths are unavoidable.
Not so in mine!

Yes,
My reality is kind to me.
It looks after me well.
It will do what is for the best,
Erasing and blurring.
Good reality, good pet.

I feed my little reality her meds,
And we stay happily together;
happy in our preferredly hazy state.

let me just say,
i am sorry.
for all the nights
i got too drunk to move
so i would not have to feel.
for the days
i swallowed away pills
to numb myself
into acceptance.
for the summers i spent
planning how to
**** myself.
for the winters
when i'd hide away.

I've had enough,
Of fleeting feelings,
I wish with all i have,
That something good would stay.
I've had enough of the bad.
Enough to write a thousand novels,
And still fill up every last journal
You ever bought me,
With the same **** thing,
Depression and anxiety;
I sometimes wonder
If i have or ever will,
Know anything else.
And it's so ******* repetitive.
I've lived this night before,
I hated it the first time.
Please let's skip this part,
Please let's fast forward,
Please,
This can't be all there is.

Inspire me,
I beg you.
It's been almost over a year now,
That I have lain in bed,
Cocooning myself
Away from the outside world.

And in my little inside life,
With my inside brain
and body
and voice;
I have lost all I used to be able to say,
and do
and feel.

I wish to be inspired.
I've been dulled down.

I used to be sad,
So I accepted their pills
And I am not so sad anymore,
But I'm so dull,
I do not feel
I do not desire
I am not inspired.

God I miss it all.

So please,
Inspire me,
And tempt me out
Of my inside cocoon.

surrounded by busy people
i sip at wine from a plastic cup
as my slow life creeps on.
satisfaction hasn't shown his head
in quite a long time,
much too long,
far too long.
i don't remember when i last saw him.
i last saw his face 36 hours ago
stubble grazed my cheek
and his sweat stuck him to my skin.
I wish i could feel
and love
and be settled.
only empty sentences fill me up,
but surely i'm close to reaching the brim.

I'd been trying to do something with my life,
Any ******* thing
But i've always been too easily distracted,
especially with the promise of tangible experiences,
Like the seeing of sounds and the tasting of love.
He said just come round, what's it matter anyway?
And as I could give no answer to the meaning of life,
Here i stand again.

Nineteen it is now,
Nineteen small white pills,
And they won't do much if i swallow them,
I've tried that one before.
But if i didn't know better i may well try again.
Prehaps at the end of the year,
when it will be twenty glistening childs teeth,
I could try again,
Double the dose,
Triple the dose.
Slot them into a double scoop ice cream,
Eat up all my desert,
Then allow my soul to desert my body,
Once more, on a one way flight.

I'll postpone the inevitable for now,
Its what we're all busy doing anyhow.
But i've seen more in my short life
than hollow headed women baring their *******
for just one more drink that might help forget their boredom,
And sporting young men, desperate for attention in any form it may come,
Some form of reassurance,
We're glad you're alive son, we sure are.

He sat there in an oversized jersey,
and i wished he'd let me crawl up inside it,
To sit there in his lap and cry myself to sleep,
No, No! I've had quite enough of such foolish business.
It's in the past.
But isn't it all?
The past is never really gone,
I don't trust it for a minute.
I don't trust much.

The head is splitting open,
Each side pulled apart,
A great crevice formed by the cracking.

Out they crawl and creep and slither.
All that were peacefully at rest.
Given their freedom to exit the cranium,
Enjoying their debut to this new, more solid existence.

I wouldn’t come too near if I were you,
You never know what they might do.

It's dangerous business,
What they call love.
A species of clear-line-loving animals,
blur everything into incomprehensible smudges,
when it comes to that.
That thing.
That danger.
That which will not be ignored.

I open my eyes in the darkness,
And i'm just not sure what i was wanting to see.
But i know that this black staring me in the face,
Was not all i hoped for.

Stomp on through,
Leave acid tears and prints of blood.
It's been a sport to crush and burn and throw away.

Years of ignoring and hiding make it hard to see through the dust that's collected.

Dust, dust, clean it away.
Make me new,
That I may start again.

With poisoned needles,
Behind friendly eyes.
And a noose for a neck already hung.

I did not put my head on quite right this morning.
I am not straight today.

Neither horizontal,
Nor vertical.
I am curved.
I am not right.

I am crucified by the surrounding air upon my bed.
I lie and wait for you to heal me.
Touch me on the forehead and i fall into your arms.

Am i better?
Better be.
Best to be.

Pity's hard to come by in a world of people trapped within their own sad minds.

Tomorrow we'll do better.
Tomorrow we'll be fine.

Leave me high.
Leave me gasping for breath,
In your absence.
Leave me pacing the room
And falling to the floor.
Leave me in solitude
That I know so deeply
As to call it my friend
Leave me standing
Or sitting
In the dark,
Or filtering sun through my lashes.
Leave me to feel
My own heart
Beating through
A thin shift shirt.
Leave me in my mind

Am I supposed to know what i want?
It's never been that way.
Not for one moment that I can recall.
And that's a lie.
Every moment with you
(at first)
Felt right.
Full and perfected.
Complete.
But it's the staying that way that is hard.
Everything with me is impermanent.
Even my desire.
Even my soul.
Even everything I once wanted.

I wonder if you'd believe me,
If i told you that i missed you
(again).

i love you as i always have
and as i have not always loved myself
but wish that i had been able to.
many things would've been different
my whole life, for instance,
yours too.
I am sorry that it is not.
and that you never could quite understand
how it could be
that you loved me so much
yet i was still so sad.
and i kid myself,
i lie, hoping i won't realise,
pretending it's all fine;
that it doesn't hurt to breathe in your absence
that someone else will be able to fill the void
and that i will go on with my life.
I am static.
Since you left, I am still.
You said to never speak to you again,
my mind disobeys,
and in my head,
in deep recesses i am able to hold you still.

Look in one direction and i see mountains.
Huge towering beasts,
Cloaked in dense forest,
Until conditions become bearable for only the snow to inhabit.

I am sheltered by them,
And safe beneath them,
I am protected.

Yet turn around and there is no safe sheltering being,
But a vast expanse of blue.
It looks inviting at first,
Calm and serene and beautiful.
It is ice cold.
It does not end,
Not that i can see.

Beneath the calm of the surface lie Sharks sharpening their teeth in preparation,
Jellyfish with stinging barbs lingering near the coast,
Spines of the kina stretching up from the depths – just try and stand on me, just try!

It is dangerous the sea.
Even if you swim between the flags your safety cannot be promised.
Can rips translocate?
Can swells increase their size?
Do the sharp edges of the rocks beckon your fragile flesh?

The mountains now do not look so safe,
There’s nowhere up there in the land of snow for me to retreat to.
I would freeze,
Be covered in the snow,
Not discovered until an avalanche six years later in early June.

Those mountains are no friends.
And they approach.
Sea or snow.
This island is a death trap.
Inescapable.

*******.
All too soon I'll be crossing you off my list.
Do you even know it?
Are you already aware?
Or as ******* stupid as you look?

We're all trying to be ourselves.
We remain the same.
We say:
  "I am no clone"
Then wait and hope for another,
Just. Like. Us.

I'm afraid of what these hands could do,
For you or to you,
And what they might accomplish
While your back was turned,
Or your eyes closed,
Or your mind off wandering.
It's a ******* misery
That we can't be.
But what if we were?
Would my stomach still eat itself with fear,
Would my nails still pick at my skin,
Would my mind still refuse to rest?
Or would perfection reign?
Rain over both of us
Till we were soaked through
And when we shook our bodies
Water flew from even our bones.

In this moment i feel nothing,
No love nor hate,
No fear nor triumph.
I lack motivation to do anything at all.
I lie awake in bed all day,
What reason was there to get up?
I am not happy,
But i am not sad.
I wonder if i am anything at all.

I am a shadow of what i would wish to be
and i am indecisive
I am lost to you with careful abandon
and i am alone.
I am a shadow of everything hoped for
and i disappoint.
I am not yet where i belong
and i am still searching.

Why be bothered by feelings when all too easily they can be blocked?
When I can feel nothing at all, I cannot feel sad.
And so, I must be happy.
This loose floating me must be happy.
I must be happy.

This, and this alone, is the life I’ve wanted.
The feelings I didn’t ask to exist vanished away,
Replaced by a heavy and happy peace.
I am at peace.

I wonder if you know,
That I still live my life for you.
In fear of your judgment.
In search of your approval.
Where did you hide it?

Oh, it’s just all too hard, isn't it!
Find yourself an easier route.

I am no philanthropist .
For all my dreaming.
I have committed no good deeds.
I seek only to distance myself from a survival I don’t agree with.

I do not really like you.
Really.
I just dislike being constantly alone.

and only now the sun arises,
he'd been hiding all day,
raising his head towards you
''are you happy now?'' he asks.
and you question yourself
and your two steps forward,
three steps back
lifestyle.
Are you happy now?
or were you then?
repeating mistakes,
time and again,
feet placed on the unsteady stone,
feel it rock beneath your weight,
and wonder to yourself
how cold the water
will be.
Colder than it looks.
for sure.
There had been an awful lot of waiting
around, and about.
And isn't it sad
that out stretched hands
cannot be trusted
to be there when you fall
off your unsteady rock,
your high horse,
your higher hopes.
"Hello sun." you say,
"nice to see you." you say,
"I'm not sure I know the answer just yet."
the sun closes his eyes and nods.
"I have seen your kind before."
he says.

You ate too much candy,
Do you see, sir,
Where your teeth rot,
Where they fall from your gums
And land on the floor?
She's absent as your two front teeth.
She disappeared when you looked away.
She's off with someone else,
Don't you see?
Someone full of promise,
Someone more stable.
And he has all his teeth.

Aspire to inspire
And inspired you will be
By the beauty and accident of your pure existence.
Simple elegance contained with ease.
Beautiful nature child;
The Mountains adore you
(As you adore them).
Geodes grow up to your touch
Ferns unroll their fronds
Trees lean branches down to earth
All to be closer
As you walk by.

People are drawn to you
Pulled towards your smile,
Your sense of amazement and wonder
Brightens dull and concrete lives.
You are the brightest star
On a cold and foggy night.
Even without the moon’s glow
I think I should be able to find my way
As long as I could follow
Your happy glimmer.

I should like the sea to freeze over.
Just for me,
And you,
I guess.

It'd be like glass,
Beautiful clear.

We'd walk over top,
There is no black treachery here.
Safe ice.
Loving ice.
And the softest of winds.

We'd fulfill all of life plans,
Made not to be kept.

And sitting on my blanket,
We'd picnic in the middle of the sea.

Alone in the middle of the sea.

I am a work in progress.
A soul adrift.

I have drifted over many seas,
Over beaches and mountains,
Islands and deserts.

I have climbed volcanoes,
and heard the hiss of the sun sinking into the waters.
I have climbed over boulders at midnight,
and skidded with rockslides over barren ground.

I have seen lakes of blue, green, gray, black, white and red.
I have seen a million shades of green.
I have tasted the extravagance of fresh air,
and have been choked by smog and smoke.

I have joined in your rituals,
and told you details of my own.
I have cast spells.
I have summoned courage.

I have spoken in tongues foreign to my own.
I have been understood,
and misundestood,
time and time again.

I have been known,
and i have been a nameless stranger.
I have felt the heat of love,
and the pangs of a broken heart.

I have known longing's name.
I have shaken fear's hand.
I have developed,
I have changed.

I will continue to do so.
I am a work in progress.

She doesn't sleep when he's not by her side
But he doesn't sleep with her either.
And when they lie side by side,
She can no longer phantom the thoughts inside his head,
Like she used to be able to do.

"What are you thinking?"
"Nothing."
She moves to kiss him
He turns over to sleep.
And her heart contracts within her chest.

In the morning she wakes early and makes them breakfast,
"I'm not hungry." is all he says.
And her intestines dissolve to a paste.

He leaves for work,
And she's so sad to see him go,
She watches from the window as the car pulls out the drive.

And now she goes about her day,
Squished up heart and mushed up gut.
She cleans the house for him
Makes his bed
Folds his laundry
Gets meat out of the fridge for dinner,

Then collapses in a heap to cry,
When she finds his wedding ring
hidden in the bed side cabinet drawer.

I took paper and pen,
put them together,
and made myself a sign.
I pin it around town and wait for the call,
for a voice in the phone to tell me they'd found my missing mind.
Lost and Found!
I hope it's not been run over.

Not as real as once imagined,
She drifts through an eternal fog.
The visions now mean nothing.
The frog in the tree croaks low.

Lone feet meet in a windstorm of tragedy.
It was not her time to depart,
But she finds herself nowhere else but here.
And now.

Not a tear leaks.

The terrestrial globe.
The sub-aquatic orb.
I am lost.

She rambles through time,
Careless and soundless.
She folds her hands neatly,
Noiseless and motionless.

I have an all too eager heart,
And a mind that will fall time and time again,
For what it hears the heart murmur.
In the depths of a borrowed soul
Whispers of promise and improvement
Echo around the nothingness
Carved and hollowed out there,
Forming a great crevice.
I will fall in to it.
Watch where you place your feet,
Or you may follow me down.