A bullet hole,
In fragile glass,
Overkill.

Cracks develop,
Reaching out,
Transparent valleys.

Stability lost,
Splitting now,
Shards fall.

The whole pane,
Collapses with,
Faint echoes.

Hit the floor,
All,
Finished.

I'm just tired.
That's all it is.
When I seem down,
When it looks like I've had enough,
When I just want to sit in my room on my own,
I'm just tired.

I'm just tired,
That's all it is,
When the things I used to love don't interest me,
When I put on my headphones and let music block out the real world,
When I scowl at my name,
I'm just tired.

I'm just tired.
That's all it is.
When I try to ignore you,
When I don't want to eat,
When you think you see the shimmer of a tear,
I'm just tired.

I'm just tired,
Tired of life,
So let me sleep.

Starting well,
All as planned,
No surprises, no shocks,
Still I have a bad feeling about this.

A slight hint,
That something's not right,
But it doesn't matter too much,
Still I have a bad feeling about this.

Foundations tremble,
The first rocks falling,
Then landslide, disaster, outrage,
I had a bad feeling about this.

Listen to me then,
All who say it makes no sense,
All who "can't understand",
Listen to me then,
Maybe if you'd just care,
For a second long enough to,
Listen to me then,
And hear me tell you clearly,
You don't get it? OK, so,
Listen to me then!
And I don't mean watch my lips,
Form the words, you need to,
Listen to me then,
You might take in what I mean,
If you actually just,
Listen to me then,
Listen to yourself.

I'm staying up too late again
Listening to songs that make me cry
And I'm wasting away hours
That I could use for...something at least
So little purpose these days
So little meaning
I know the dream is coming
Just, it's too far for now
My life is a phone off the hook
Stock music crackling to no-one
Waiting for someone to pick me up
And lead me on.

In a double life, a double cross
is standard procedure.
Betrayal and no foresight
are expected, feared, ignored,
no second thought.

All I said before considered,
feelings mutilated -
pointless to even pause.
Haste over care or kindness,
Speed the only cause.

Where is truth?
Between one claim or another?

I don't write about God
Not often
When I try I feel inadequate
Or I fear somehow offending
Or alienating
Someone I wish was saved

I don't write about God
Not easily
How to describe something
So ingrained in my being?
Closer even
Than my bitter struggles

I don't write about God
Not enough
Not because I can't
Because it's difficult
But after all
Difficult is no excuse

So let's talk about love
Let's talk about forgiveness
Let's talk about sanctuary
Let's talk about comfort
Let's talk about escape
Let's talk about freedom
Let's talk about what you need right now
And let's talk about doing something about it
That's my God

Eyes once filled with dreams
that spilled out into visions
Now dulled by time and memory
And struggle not to close

A heart once fed by love
that glowed with hope and meaning
Now beats with broken voice
And aches for other's pain

Lips once loud with stories
That weaved emotions with one breath
Now tired and silent
With no reason to speak

A girl who'd dream of futures
And speak of hope with pride
Now sits alone, with no fight left
She accepts her fate
And cries.

Why ask?
Why do we need to know?
Does it really matter?
We always seem to be asking,
Inquiring, Inspecting,
But to what end?
For truth?

If we want truth,
Questions will only take us so far.
To find truth you first need to lose lies.
So **** stereotypes, **** preconceptions,
Stop believing everything you're told,
And ask your own questions,
Form your own opinions,
Form your own self,
Form your own life,
And respect everyone else's

Up late,
But for once my eyes,
Cooperate,
And I see the messages,
Clearly,
She wants to call,
Really?
She wants to hear,
My voice?
But why would that be,
Her choice?
I panic, shoulders,
Shaking,
As I swipe right,
Taking,
The call and hear her,
Speaking,
I speak and then she's,
Freaking,
Out like me.

And followed an exchange,
Of spoken joy,
As the best of friends,
Heard each other for the first time.

The tiles are a sky of blur,
Blending into fantasised colours.
My limbs are mere complications,
Ignored as my mind closes.
The pain in my head is fading,
Replaced with a numb sickness.
I am drowning in black air,
My muscles disobeying command.
I can't feel anything,
My nerves are protecting themselves.
My stomach is ripped to shreds,
And twisting in on itself.
Breaths are irrelevant,
I must remain...I must remain.

Falling from the skies,
Comes devastation,
Walls crumble,
As lives shatter,
In an instant.

Just out of reach,
The fires I long for,
Stretch for,
With breaking fingers,
Turning to dust.

Shards pierce skin,
As chaos spills into,
Restless streets,
Monuments mean,
Nothing to rivers of blood.

Should I try to fly?
Is escape really worth it?
What am I fleeing if not myself?
If, then, I was free,
Would that make a difference?
Or would I carry my pain with me?

If I flew would rain still weigh me down?
Would the clouds obscure my view?
Would lightning strike my fragile wings?
Or, perhaps,
Would I breach the bounds of clouds?
And soar in constant light?

On what have I based my fear?
Some assumption of the dark of the human heart?
Are the forces I flee chasing me?
Or are they too,
Already within me, a fabrication as an excuse,
To cling onto the idea I am broken.

In an instant,
The shades turn to pixels,
The beauty pulled and twisted into,
Strings of numbers.

A perfect imprint,
A reflection of time,
In a misty mirror,
A sun-lit filter.

What reason do I have to be angry?
I have lived in comfort
Never doubted the safety of my future
The hardships of this world
Have breezed past me, barely moving my clothes
Of course I have faced trials
Don't we all?
But I never had anything to blame them on
For the most part they were unfortunate
Or inconvenient
No, I have never had reason to be angry.
Yet, sitting like a knot in my throat
Some tumour filling my stomach
Rotting slowly
An undeniable frustration
That I watch my friends' and strangers' lives
Falling apart, cut-off and left to stumble on
And where I see no reason not to help,
Those that can see no reason to
What reason do I have to be angry?
None, not really - but what reason do we have?
We have far too many to count

I'm not dead,
Nothing changed,
Just because you see me different,
Doesn't mean I'm not the same.

I'm not lost,
I went the right way,
Just before I followed blindly,
In fear of what you'd say.

I'm not confused,
I know who I am,
Just because you don't get it,
Doesn't mean I give a ****.

Don't tell me what's in my head,
I know far better than you.

Shared celebration,
National pride,
A victory won on out behalf.
Before our hope had died.

A moment together,
With no real meaning,
But how much we cared,
How long we'd been dreaming.

But now it seems,
That tune is so rare,
No longer a reason,
To throw hands in the air.

But still we believe,
That one day we will,
Be singing those words,
And reliving that thrill.

On streets,
On Autumn evenings,
Under clouded skies.

Footsteps and
Crunch and
Avoiding others' eyes.

Falling ahead,
A single leaf,
In a ripple of light.

From a street-lamp,
Our own stars,
To fill the lonely night.

I am no great poet,
These words are no more
than an outpouring of thoughts,
In random orders,
Without much more thought
than that which they were.

I don't have any formula,
No structure or style to stick to,
I just repeat when it feels right
Repeat when it feels right
to remind you of what I said before
In some other thought.

I don't live a different life,
That is somehow more poetic,
Or beautiful or inspired.
I don't have a muse at the moment,
Nor do I have a sanctuary,
Any escape or silence
In which to think.

All I do is amble through,
The lines until I find
Some moment
Strong enough
Or desperate enough
Or vulnerable enough
To create some kind of
Fragile beauty.

A light, three tiles, another light,
Not white but tinted: blue, pink, green,
The ceiling's closer, muffling my thoughts,
As it deadens the voices around.

The window's open a crack,
A slim strip of sky let in,
But the air is dense, filled with heat,
And dry confused conversations.

The wall is plain, just white,
But washed in the yellow reflection of day,
The only colour here needs a good eye,
Otherwise, all is grey.

A tiny drop lands on her back,
Her dark feathers locked together,
Forming a tight armour,
She shakes gently,
The water rolls away,
Trickling down,
Joining the million that make up the lake,
That shimmer with the evening sun.

I'm tired,
But I fight it,
I struggle with my head,
I occupy myself,
To keep my weary eyes open,
Long enough to convince myself,
I won't dream too much,
Long enough to believe,
I'll make it,
Without descending,
Slowly but surely,
Into my own hell.

My head hurts again,
Both inside and out,
I can't stand it any more,
Listening to him shout,
Screaming at his son,
For coping too well,
For not caring enough,
He shatters my shell,
Blames the bottle,
Plays with guilt,
And manages, brick by brick,
To tear down the wall I built,
A fist collides with tears,
And crushes my insides,
Releasing the pain,
That I learned to hide,
So they wouldn't think,
To check if I was okay,
But it's too much,
Far too much today.
So I run away.

Their eyes are tied to the unimaginable sight,
They cannot break from its pull,
Ribbons of dazzling shades descend from the clouds,
Wrapping around the onlookers,
Filling them with awe.
But the mystic silk hides a choking smoke,
That makes its home in the heart,
And as it burrows its way into the soul,
Not a single eye is deflected,
From gazing into the folds of the delicate light,
As their very existence is destroyed from within.
Their eyes glaze over,
Their fists clench,
An instant revolution of hate.

The rain falls and yet,
Darker clouds to come,
Lumbering towards,
Increased intensity.

And I find myself,
Approaching the point,
Of greatest downfall,
And lingering there.

All too soon,
Blue skies interrupt my,
Joyful refreshment,
Leave me soaked in silence.
...
Motionless
...
Stare
...
Stand
...
Walk
...
Home

Stop trying,
You don't need to,
I already ******* hate myself,
I already scowl at the mirror,
I already feel sick when I speak,
You don't need to,
Bury me in ****,
When I've already dug my own grave,
And laid in it.

So confusing,
All these unnecessary sounds,
And pointless words,
My jaw's on edge,
Tooth on tooth,
Grinding down,
With the same determination,
Held in each wave on each rock,
Breaking,
Devouring slowly,
Over eternity.

My ears bombarded,
With the same blind hope,
Of shots in the dark,
Fired without aim,
Out of shattered rifles,
From desperate hearts.

End the onslaught,
Let me leave.

And there on the screen,
At 7:49
The words for which I've waited
But never believed were mine

I'd prepared myself for failure,
Readied for defeat,
But now all fear is lifted
And I cannot speak

Because my future is secured
A degree awaits my hands
And beyond it so many options
I never thought I'd have

And I know, for once, I earned this
I worked hard, I pushed myself
So whatever comes of this
I deserved to do this well

The leaves tumble down,
A thread hangs from the trunk,
Each leaf tied by unseen hand,
Locked in frozen fall,
They call them tears,
But they cling on instead of drop,
A whisper on the water,
Ripples pink in sunset's warmth,
Across the almost still, dark water,
Reflections warped,
Silent breath,
Watch the colour fade.

As the hours slip past,
And I lose my chance at sleep,
Dark becomes my home.

Life can be cruel,
Life can tear you apart,
Life can take your heart in its hands and crush it with the slightest of breaths,
Life can knock you down with a single finger,
Life can push you off the edge,
Life can burn your soul,
Life can punish you for doing the right thing,
But the thing is,
More often than not,
It doesn't

An overwhelming sense,
That I've done something wrong.
An ever fearful heart,
Breaks free and bursts into song.
It tells my paranoid mind,
That it was right all along.
My growing confidence,
Backs away and won't go on.
My weary fingers,
Blamed for taking too long.
My tiring eyes,
Blamed for misunderstanding the response.
I think something's up,
But I'm not sure what.

Blood on a tissue on a stone wall
Ripped to shreds before it starts to fall
Red stains
Reminder of pain
Leaves its trail on the crumbling archway.

Scratching words on ageing bricks
Hoping memories might stick
To the concrete
Hidden street
Where I meet my last decay.

For what will I be remembered
For the perfect life I dismembered?
Disgust
Turning to rust
Now I must submit my soul.

The devils watching with hunger in his eyes
That I can't breathe is no surprise.

I fade away,
Erosion, erases every trace of me,
The Latin says,
I will remain in the Earth.
My final day,
Decomposition, disgraces every grain of me,
If I would stray,
Then you will take my back to gaze at my inscription.

Have I truly known loss?
Death is yet to plague me or the people I love,
Those decaying claws are yet to rip through my blurred horizons,
I am yet to hear the rasping breath on the back of my feeble neck,
That whispers: "It's over"

Betrayal has made its mark,
But more often I felt their icy hands diving through my chest before those talons could grasp my heart,
I found that even when my preconceived ideals grew to be false,
Slowly building a barbed cage around me,
I was able to turn on my heel and leave the way I came: Trust.

My heart has broken just once,
The two halves healed,
The serrated blade with which love carved my soul left only superficial wounds,
To restore my heart I needed little more than time,
And one other medicine: Friendship.

Despair,
I wish I'd never known you,
Your inviting arms were laced with poisons,
Loneliness, self-loathing and hopelessness fed on my brain,
Removing emotions with grotesque precision,
But you too we're defeated easily: I am better now.

In the end I lost no more than I gained,
But each possession felt more precious as they were ripped away,
But what I have come to realise is that my perception of what loss is has been warped,
And now the years of anguish and pointless tears seem all the more meaningless.
Who am I to complain when others have far greater loads than me?
Even those who helped me are weighed down by much heavier burdens,
So now I have found a new goal:
Prove that loss did not win.

I'm scared in broad daylight,
A glance at me earns a label:
'Threat'

I can't afford to be seen through,
For my label to be clear and
Open for attack.

I know that being me is not
As safe as living a lie,
But there's no choice.

They don't understand,
That I am a target from the moment
I step outside.

I have to hide,
But I can't.

In
blurry  
        mornings
Before eyes are conscious
Before my thoughts connect
That steam, that aroma
Is simple bliss
To stumbling minds.

On the moor at midnight,
The stars above my head,
Shone high and bright.

And the lacklustre sound,
Of untrained singing,
Echoed around.

I marvelled at the full moon,
And smiled: "Merry Christmas"
It will be here soon.

Boxes
Collecting the life I need to take
Leaving behind the trivial
But for a few small comforts

Piles
Sorting my belongings into
Future and past
All the eccentricities I've collected

Lists
Making sure nothing is forgotten
So I will be safe to settle
In some distant room far away

Time
Drifting slowly but
Accelerating towards
Well...I don't know what yet

Something new

Perhaps I could have told you,
In a moment when nothing mattered more,
Than your fingers in my hand,
Or your head on my shoulder.

Perhaps in that mix of dark and laughter.
And shouting to be heard,
I could have let myself,
Say the words in my head.

Perhaps when blinded from consequence,
When fear of failure did not cross my mind,
I could have been honest,
And whispered a kiss on your lips.

Sitting on steps,
In the last gasps of summer,
Like wannabe film stars,
Without stresses or fear,
Though we never said,
We all knew,
The importance,
Of that moment,
To just breathe and smile,
Us six,
Though we never said,
We were friends.

Take me away from,
Tiring roads and fading lights,
Hold no hint of hope.

The beats pound through my head,
The words mean nothing,
But silence hurts,
So it keeps thumping through my head,
Filling the emptiness,
With empty words,
And shallow meanings,
To remind me,
I can do better.

There are people running,
Chaos,
I don't know where I am,
I'm late, I think,
Time is short,
I have to hurry up!

"Just stop."





"No, stay still."





"Why?"





"No reason."





"No, don't move."





"Keep dead still."





"Hear that?"





"Feel it?"





"There's a whisper on the breeze."





"No, shush."





"Don't speak."





"Just listen."





"It's not silent."





"Is it?"





"There's something there."





"Can you hear what it's saying?"





"No?"





"Don't worry."





"Neither can I."





"But."





"I don't ignore it."






"You."





"Are."





"Not."






"Alone."

I knew before,
I tried,
I'd hurt before,
I smiled.

I knew before,
I ran,
I'd hate the way,
I cry.

I knew before,
I fell,
I was losing,
My mind.

But I knew after,
All that,
I'd be grateful that,
I did.

Does all this really mean anything?
When so many others have said this all before
And in better ways with perfect form
And without repeating themselves
Again
And
Again

Will anyone but me look back and think
These cascades of words meant anything more important
Than just a student with too much time
And not enough energy?

Will anyone love my love poems?
Or be inspired by my protests?
Or close their eyes and picture the moments
I found unforgettable?

Will I be remembered for writing a few too many days?
For running out of things to say and
Waffling on anyway?

Or perhaps someone might find some truth in these words
Or a perspective never before expressed
Maybe
Maybe not
But no harm in waffling on
A
Little
Bit
Longer

The curtains,
Parted slightly,
Just enough,
For a thin sliver,
Of reluctant light,
To pierce through,
From the fading lamppost,
And tempt me out,
Away from home.

In the morning,
The smell of damp earth and traffic,
Overwhelms the senses,
Of a sub-urban girl.

The monotone beating,
Of rain invades the rhythm of my heart,
And reveals pulses not,
Constant noise.

With each pace,
Or stride she closes on her home,
Not her house but,
The abode of her smile.

Then constructed deadlines,
And the shrill alarms of modern time,
Drive her away and disconnect,
The joy.

But she takes a little more,
Happiness with her,
Each time she allows herself,
To be awake.

Awake,
Not in semi-slumber,
But eyes fully open to the beauty of the world.

Take me away from,
Empty bus stops too late for,
A desperate escape.