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nja Jan 2019
She’s highness, deaf but not muted.
Still dignified, past perfect, but still pushing.
Withering tea addict,
laughs at her own sophisticated and immature jokes.
Farts.
How the highness gracefully descend.

Relaxed, reclined,
hands placed still on abdomen, yet they’re itching.
Noisy breaths lift her sinking body,
till she’s plastered to the bed,
not quite motionless.
Can’t decline.
Sits up. Peering, active, but stunted.
My grandmother is a withering icon.
nja Jan 2019
He tasted dry,
When licked with sour spit.
His scent was foul.
Broad hands rejected
Curling feet.
Met by scowling eyes,
He criticised me with love.
nja Jan 2019
Eve
Embarrassed at her crude, superficial motivations she continues. This is a hidden therapy she’s toying with. She thinks she isn’t any good. She doesn’t know as many words as he does.
Comparison is her damnation.
Look at her, she’s plastered herself to the floor.
Immobile, she can’t even reach the glass ceiling threshold.
He slithers away, contented.
I explore the reasons I started writing poetry again. Realising, it was to impress a boy who is a poet himself it led me to this take on Adam & Eve and original sin.
nja Jan 2019
But she's exposed herself.
Flesh and bone protruding out the protective bubble.
She's only just gone and dragged herself to the margins of society.
Removed from the warmth of the gooey womb she supresses a lingering shiver.
Now she resides in a ***** dimension. Present, not quite faded yet.
Now the perfectly grown princess has self-inflicted chips on her shoulders.
Addicted to self-flagulation she tries to regress back home to her former alter.
Beyond. Reach.
A stone bleeding with pleasure weighs down the remains of her birth right.
aANotes on my sheltered upbringing and how I purposly sabotaged my background and privilidged future because of the choices I made.
nja Jan 2019
Stinging morning coffee bliss acompanies the first cig of the day,
It’s all downhill from here.
Does normal things Goes to lecture
Lunchtime sugar low.
Self-destructive tendencies itching,
Beer kick - gets drunk.
Being constructive is crushing.
Goes to lecure
Mind numbing normality
Home.
Fearful of loneliness and needy, go waste some hours.
Its late. Restless.
Stoop on the street,
with friends. Anxious, ill.
Wasted night.
Collapse into a shallow sleep of self-loathing.
Zombied.
Repeated offence.
An acurate describition of my daily university life. Evident is my dependency on drugs and my fear of being alone. Both loneliness and 'mind-numbing normality' are perceived as a threat. The title comes from the french word for daily life to accentuate the repetition and spiraling.
nja Jan 2019
Jump
Don't think
Darling.
This fragment is up for your interpretation. Take from it whatever you see/hear/want. It was written after cliff jumping. The whole thing is very daring. It becomes a repeated thought process turned personal motto. The 'darling' at the end is very 'me'.
nja Jan 2019
'Put my ice cream in the oven.'
'Apply some lipstick.'
'Stop winning and criticising.'
'I understand everything just fine thank you.'
But she laughs at her own jokes, she misunderstands mostly, she is loved by me.
Another one about my gran. All phrases in parenthesis are fragments of her.
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