"Be careful son, but be free"
You were warned, and yet
higher and higher you flew
closer and closer to Apollo
and your wax wings were melted
with his embrace.

But tell me, Icarus,
was it worth it in the end?
How did it feel
to graze the heavens?
Tell me, dear one,
how did it feel to live violently?
to live carelessly?

"Be careful, son, be free."
You chose to live,
if only in that moment.
Higher and higher you sailed
until your very being insulted Apollo
and with one kiss,
your wings were destroyed.

It's done, not well, but now at least
the journey is all over.
The world has suddenly become
The bright white cliffs of Dover.
The sails have ceased to billow
And I have to disembark.
The animals have all taken
Their due leave of the ark.

Now the warmth of feeling
Is not sweat on my brow
It's the education stealing
My ignorance of now.
They let me taste the honey
And now my tooth is sweet
But today at least the heather
Is growing in the street.

Grateful? I suppose.
But it just set the mark
Where my animals would leave me
And I would leave the ark.

I dreamt of living last night.
My mind pushed away by
the wheels of a
Rene Descartes.

I felt a jolt after
I'd eaten
Of my mind jumping back
Perhaps it became aware.

But, foolish vision, I
Know this must be real
For if this is a dream
Why is she not in it?

Why is she not smiling?
Why is she not laughing?
Why is she not invading?
Because it's real.

It's real and she's not here.

I met her in my sleep last night,
And it was awkward, like in life.
Her arm was parcelled by a curse
And I hated him at once
Though I hid it well.

I was a king on a throne,
Brooding over battle
And my armour fitted poorly,
A matter which she noticed
And pointed out.

She asked me whom I was fighting,
Smiling as she did.
And I looked down, amazed
That she could be so bold.
She readied herself.

I drew my own weapon,
Distance in my fist
And fought her smile,
While her 'friend' looked on.
She laughed and it rattled me.

There I lay,
Distance brought down and shattered
And there she was,
Above me,
Her smile the only weapon she needed...

I woke up after the worst dream.
(I was 16 and dying. Not from disease but from myself.)
I looked in the mirror and saw this girl who wasn't who she thought she was.
I saw the 16 year old me.
The one who hated everything about herself.
From her scars to her weight to her stupid fake date.
She hated her life.
She took the pain away with one single blade.
She took her life in the night so she was sure no one would interrupt.
Except her mother woke up from a terrible dream of her daughter dead.
Only to find that it wasn't a dream and it wasn't all in her head.
She dialed 911 as she held her close.
Now 11 year old me is seeing a ghost.
A ghost of a girl just 16 years old, dead in her mothers arms because she was never told how cruel the world is.
-N.P

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.