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Mirlotta Feb 2015
Paper faces on display behind their
crumbling, flaking paper masks.
Bodies carved from fragile glass
about to shatter as they dip and dance.
Longing for a false romance
to warm and burn their paper hearts.
Kisses underneath the stars;
the fraying smoke from their cigars.
Mirlotta Oct 2014
I should really help her out
Stop the knife
Before it slices through her neck
Poisons her life
And she bleeds
All over my carpet.


Never mind. I'll help her out some other time.
Mirlotta Oct 2014
When I was a child I was depressed, and
my father would tell me that
"There's a silver lining to every storm cloud.
You just need to find it."

The world needs to realise that
there is no silver lining to
the storm cloud of depression
or the thunder of disease.

It's not hidden.
It's not waiting around the corner, ready to jump out.
It's not going to suddenly change fate, a miracle cure.
It's not been found because it is not there.

It never was.
Mirlotta Dec 2015
This is the end.
Can you see it?
Count to ten.
12345678910
Did the numbers blur together?
Good; that's good.
They're meant to be like that-
like each number is the same as the last one.
It's the same way that angels look down on the earth
and all us humans look just about as unique, and special, and completely individual
as dust or ants do to us.
We're 7 billion tiny insignificances.

This is the end.
Have I said that before?
Look at me.
Look at me.
You can't, right?
These are just words.
You can't see me through the words,
but it's just the same when you look at your sister
or your best friend from primary school or
the bin man with the funny moustache that reminds you of your grandfather's ashes.
You think you're seeing them, but you're not.
All you do is look.

This is the end.
Is this getting too repetitive?
Take deep breaths.
Inoutinout.
Feel that tickling against the back of your throat?
That's called regret.
You're puffing yours out and huffing everyone else's in-
Like the Big Bad Wolf except this is just the
Big Bad Pain that humanity is nursing
because babies have just been born
and old ladies always wanted to travel to the moon and never did.
Now there's not going to even be a moon to want to go to.

This is the end.
Can you hear me?
It's loud out here,
too many explosions.
Remember when no one on earth worried about explosions?
We'd bomb half the world and that would be that.
War about as commonplace as
milk or bread in supermarkets,
you mourn that you're never going to
get the chance to see world peace or send
that money you were going to give the refugees.
You can't have world peace without a world, after all.

This is the end.
Can you feel how it burns?
It's like you're a Viking warlord or a witch on a pyre.
What's your opinion on Viking warlords?
It's funny because you always used to have something to say about everything that didn't concern you, but you're opening and closing your mouth without a word about Viking warlords popping out.
Close your eyes before you claw them shut.
Take deep breaths.
Inoutinout.
Count to ten.
123456789

Oops. Too late.
This is the end of the end.
Mirlotta Nov 2014
who's afraid to

trip trap
kick scratch
stomp crash
whip lash
spit screech
run siege
tear crack

trip trap

over my bridge?
Mirlotta Oct 2014
Love never dies -
but people do,
and that's so much worse.
Mirlotta Oct 2014
A shot in the dark
Your arrow through my heart
Right on target
Mirlotta Oct 2014
Watch her eyes -
she's dead inside.
Mirlotta Dec 2014
Watch out, ******
Your humanity
is showing.
Mirlotta Oct 2015
a 'modern' school building
with 'modern' ideas
(and 95% of the pregnant
and the drop-outs and the
suicidal and the desperate
pushed under the
carpet instead of
given help)

a balanced curriculum
everything your child
needs
(except love and affection
and life skills and how
to treat other people
without behaving like
a *******)

there's dozens of school clubs
the gospel choir's won
awards
(though you'll hear more of a
holy chorus of '*****' from the lips of the
******* goddamners)

and our school reputation is
propped up on results
(but exams mean nothing
because when you're dead
who's going to care how
much ink you scrawled in
just the right patterns on
your blank sheet of paper?)

all students are valued
equally, of course
(but definitely not by
the other students because
who wants to see that art
freak's drawings on Instagram
when he didn't even get invited
to that last big
party?)

all boys and girls are given
equal opportunity
(except when a bench needs
lifting, or they're transgender)

and our school uniform dress
code applies to everyone
(but if you're a guy and your
forearms are distracting someone
don't worry, you won't be asked
to cover them up)

all bullying is dealt with
swiftly and without prejudice
(unless the kid being bullied is
black or muslim because then
for some reason it's a whole
different story)

and all subjects here are treated
with equal merit and available
to everyone
(but if you're taking woodwork
then you're thick, or drama then you're
queer)

speaking of equality, the school's an
lgbt+ safe zone
(but don't even think about
being openly into the same ***
or someone's going to smash
your face in)

because we're a 'modern' school
with 'modern' ideas
(but if someone tries to tell you otherwise
then they're telling the
truth
and it's worth being friends with
them)
Mirlotta May 2015
***** snow on the sidewalk
like someone's old dandruff
and cups of hot chocolate
like murky brown eyes.
Bright knitted jumpers
like over-bright smiles
and fairy-light nooses
like striped knotted ties.
Sleigh bells and reindeer
like slaves' chains a-clanking
and gaily wrapped presents
our cling film wrapped hearts.
Street lamps; a search light -
cars are our convicts
and saccharine kisses
like sour apple tarts.
Mirlotta Oct 2014
Sticks and stones would break my bones
but words would shatter and splinter my soul
until it couldn't be pieced back together again
until all the hope in the world had shrivelled up
and withered away and died
as if souls were
fragile things like
whispered secrets
and
love
and
poetry.

— The End —