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Sep 19 · 14
growing pains
Jane Sep 19
it feels impossible
to ignore the vulnerability
extending the olive branch
sweeping shadows under the rug
to feel included
to ignore the reality
mismatched expectations
always a step behind
a beat or two out of time with the rest
trust and reliance further
from the bedfellows you had always believed
and resentment builds at tight-knit bonds
you've never felt welcomed in
always on the outside
playing make-believe with borrowed time
and the other kids' toys
sometimes the big girl boots
tread paths you're not ready for
and routes to new possibilities
though painful and lonely and
endlessly daunting
are safest for a heart
worn out from breaking
under the mishandled fragile bonds
left of a trampled soul
rebuilding softly
Aug 23 · 21
My body is a cave
Jane Aug 23
Stalactites warp, following the bevels of the cave
Water drips rhythmically
Occasional tide patterns emerge and dissipate as echoes and ****** noise mingle and crest, ricocheting from natural ceiling.
Aug 22 · 28
Jane Aug 22
He makes me see stars
paints galaxies on my skin
pours oceans of love
til I'm swimming in affections
unsteady tiptoes
slick on the marble
hooking his belt loops:
Let's lose ourselves tonight.
Aug 18 · 30
My writing in a word
Aug 18 · 27
Dear Angus
Jane Aug 18
I've spent the night concocting fake letters to my therapist as a concept for an art project. A coquettish ploy for validation, vindication without unloading the heaviest loads.

My fear the depression is back, or never really left. The agony of watching my Love crumble at the hands of his own brain and his apathetic complicity in his brain's self-destruction. And by the way, I'm gay. Have a nice holiday.

Some email. But much easiest than over the phone. No pauses, breaths, hedges, deflect. Fear of rejection runs deep, core to my design. The draft sits silently, relegated to the bin.

So much work. So much weight. Here's hoping my foundations hold until he's back.
Aug 18 · 154
Stop hitting yourself
Jane Aug 18
Childhood chants for childish ways
Misbehaviour, misdemeanor
Nothing permanent no new stains
Visible to the naked eye, anyway

Minds play tricks, what a treat
Mistrusting, misunderstanding
Brain's concoctions can't imagine
Attention isn't worth these pains

What goes up must come down
Misremember, misbegotten
Lies, pretense, silly fancies
Self doubt sees the stalwart slain

- Questioning my insanity, a double-edged gaslight burns me at both ends but I no longer feel the flame
Aug 18 · 22
Fuzzy teeth
Jane Aug 18
It's so impossibly hard to capture fleeting moments of anguish in words that truly embody the experience. In that second stretching for on for days, there is no escape, no end, no hope. Such a hopelessness is intensely lonely and creates a terror that passes through muscles so concretely the electrical current sparks fuzzy on my teeth, freezing my jaw.

And when that moment ends, seconds to days later, such a feeling is still so impossibly hard to capture that I doubt memory and weary body alike. The exhaustion has no tangible cause. Nothing ties my lingering reactions to their root any longer. The synapses decay.

These words become all I have.
Aug 18 · 222
18th august, 1.48am
Jane Aug 18
My boyfriend has two cardigans
Exactly the same softness, dark grey, cold zip and asymmetric cut
I'm wearing one, my legs curled beneath the other
Frustratingly cold on the sofa when the stagnant bedroom air was near suffocating moments before
My eyes are heavy, tired, blurry with sleep, alert thanks to anxiety
Brain on a loop of words and feelings and fears
Mostly desperation to not disturb his sleep and a break in the summer heat
Jane Aug 17
Limbs heavy, joints creak with aging beyond their years
My eyes are heavy with tears I don't have because the aching chasm in my chest is frantically drawing every drop of water in my body to fill it up so there's something there, parched and so empty that each tear drop echoes in the hollow cavern. My ears are ringing, auditory canal itching, lips tingling. My body is having a reaction, allergic to my brain and the toxins
chemicals of imbalance
Jane Aug 11
Lips stained by the juice of the pomegranate she
devours while thinking on him
Rolling seeds across the roof of her mouth with her tongue.

Bountiful contradictions in her empty palms.
She does not exist to perform his redemption arc
or become the harbinger of his destruction.

Playful, serious, light and dark
She reminds me that there is both light and dark in all of us
Can love really be so simple and so complex?
Must we give everything to gain everything?
Can such a fiery passion be felt so deep and never burn out?
Jane Aug 9
The Deathly Hallows -
aptly titled for hauntings of a soul
tormented by its own creations

The stone turns in time with heart beats
a rhythm set to the mourning for loved ones lost to time
no peace can grow here while the loneliness creaks in my bones

The wand, brittle, breaks as the back
bends under the weight of memories, promises, histories long forgotten
and the power is not in the spine or the soul

The cloak muffles as questions, regrets, tales of lives gone by catch in the throat,
suffocating and tangled in limbs
restricting the body from view, from vitality

Pain echoes through these hallowed halls
and Death is ushered in, a welcomed friend to quiet the mind plagued,
one final act of brutal emancipation.
Aug 9 · 16
bitter / sweet
Jane Aug 9
revisiting the words I write on heart-weary days,
I can taste the emotional exhaustion
in its metallic meloncholy
and a slight bitterness at the shadow
they leave on my soul
when sweet words of brighter days
are far harder to wrap my tongue around
in ways that echo through my chest ever after
Aug 7 · 24
7th august, 4:17pm
Jane Aug 7
I'm beginning to see the beauty of an unassuming monotony, complete lack of remark or incredulity, the repetitive sameness of minutes, days, weeks. Corners of gold in sunlit brick. Echoes of dreams in the creases of bed linen. Sumptuous, biteable plumpness of the aloe on the window sill. Water moves differently. Cold has a taste. The numbness ebbs away from senses - sight, taste, smell, imagination slowly filling with renewed insight as the world around remains exactly the same.
Aug 5 · 124
Jane Aug 5
today the pain is not in breaking
that would suggest some fantastic noise
or cavernous fracture
today is subtle, barely visible to the naked eye
it's a quiet decay
unremarkable in its erasure of humanity
withering away
and that emptiness becomes a new kind of identity
this is all that remains
Aug 4 · 16
today is a bad day
Jane Aug 4
fractured whispers, intangible thoughts
weary heart, words escape me
gums ache, muscles cry
depression seeps further
mind body and soul decaying
and i crumble
Aug 1 · 106
Jane Aug 1
The taste of a ghost on my tongue
a memory in my throat
you name your taste your smell
filling my chest, stopping my heart
it's as if you never left
and this feeling
ice in my veins, fire licking
my insides
overwhelming in its newness and familiarity
I know you
I know you
Jul 28 · 35
Autumn leaves
Jane Jul 28
Autumn strips
the branches of their wilting leaves
much like I shed
my insecurities at twilight.
Rebirth is but a season away,
growth is inevitable.
Appreciate your blossom
as you take in
your renewed form,
born again
in the sunlight of a new day.
Eva Cassidy's lessons are silken butterscotch
Jul 27 · 24
Oil in her water
Jane Jul 27
She is a whirlwind of contradictions
hates her flesh, relishes the freedom of her body naked.
She despises being watched, but performs for an audience
when the chance arises.
Her body thrums with carnal need, but shies away from intimacy
scared to be seen.
She encourages exploration, but is afraid to leave creature comforts
for fear of the unknown.
She's emptied herself to fill others up and fears her brimming emotions might overflow
Naive and wise beyond her years, old before her time
walking through life with childish wonderment and aged bones.
She is messy and clumsy and Not All That Good
And he sees her perfection.
Jul 26 · 20
Jane Jul 26
lavender soothes and nourishes all in reach
bluebells dance on the breeze with impish levity
honeysuckle intoxicates in a heady familiarity of childhood

springtime appears and the space between my ribs is cavernous
adventurous. life awaits.
Jul 26 · 15
hazy sunny heart
Jane Jul 26
soundtracking my summer, soft and wistful
a teen nostalgia time capsule
of angst and wide-eyed innocence
simplicity wrapped in pastel softness
sugar mice, 99s, Boys Like Girls - how fitting
as thunder rolls in to clear the skies
for sunny promises and late night kisses
undiluted joy with barely mixed ***
sweet on my lips and salt at the waistline
warming our skin through windows
as gulls pepper the soundwaves
how magnificent the glory days are
reborn, revisited, revitalised
with today's knowledge
and back then's hope
danced and tiptoed and sprinted through
to songs of child hearts and dreamer tongues
Jul 25 · 25
when the party's over
Jane Jul 25
weary and threadbare
my soul is mostly empty
words can't reach
louder than a whisper
the pressure on my chest
cracks my ribcage open
and still the air
struggles to escape
lifeless eyes blink away
tears of defeat
frustration would take
too much
awareness lurks
at the back of my head
of passion and drive
long extinguished
soft sighs glance
at embers, echoes
that life might
breathe in this body
once more
billie eilish makes me feel things that rip me up inside so sweetly
Jane Jul 14
my heart clenches thinking
back on friendships and fun and laughter
i poured my heart and soul into
for nought.

desperate to give my weary head
space to look on those decaying connections
fondly, not with bitterness
or aching.

the grief of friends loved and lost
to time, distance and mismatched expectations
is a quiet trauma that imprints on
my soul.

yet I will repeat my mistakes again
ready to welcome new friends into my heart
and hope desperately it won't end
in pain.
Jul 8 · 25
White noise
Jane Jul 8
Why do you write like you're running out of time?
Lin-Manuel's all too apt question feels much too personal
Running, chasing down thoughts and feelings and explanations
Necessary to understand, theorise, analyse, criticise. My
patience wears thin as I realise I'm
running from myself as I
barrel towards truths.

Grappling with inspection, learning more about perception, intention
And navigating this new world, no
it's the old world with renewed vision
Open eyes wide at the injustice, in-fighting, inability to step aside as privilege clouds judgement.
The caucasity.

It feels wrong to wear the badge of ally,
Share lessons learned or ring out the battlecry
for justice
and necessary losses because
Needs Must
when I'm still blinded by the white light radiating from my own complexion in the unsettled dust.

It's amazing I
still manage to make it all about me when I
know it's about others whose voices were suppressed
And really I
know that's not really true
It's just that I
never second guessed
what I was told by
those in power. I stayed willingly complacent.
Privilege, reckoning, accepting, harms done,
next steps, affirmative message, false promises from my tongue
until they have real action I can take but
Again this narrative still centres on myself and
that needs to change.

The focus needs to change.
The emphasis needs to change.
Or the injustice with remain the same.
And too many people are running out of time.
Jul 8 · 834
Uncomfortably numb
Jane Jul 8
I think in feeling too much, I forgot what it means to feel at all
May 25 · 49
smash the mirror
Jane May 25
desperate to be seen, read, heard

validation is cloyingly sweet and unbearable on the soul when withheld

but on and on I’ll bellow in the spotlight

desperation pouring from every pore

sweat breaking on my brow from the forced performance

dance monkey dance

and at least if they laugh i’ll know that they noticed

what a pitiful thing to find in the pit of your soul

that need

to be seen
May 24 · 37
Take it slow
Jane May 24
Not so easy with thoughts
pelting towards you so
fast you can barely make
them out before they join
the shouting masses at the
back of my head

Drowning them out with
sticcato breath and out of
time heart beat

Echoing in my ears, caught
in my throat, coagulating
in my veins

An unpleasant mix for a
tasteless treat that
catches in the oven, burnt
out dried up hollowed out

No such thing as slow
here. Only ever faster
ever closer ever harder
Never stop.
May 23 · 22
when i think about you
Jane May 23
sunday morning newspaper
aeroplanes, words smudge under tear
stains and my lip cracks
under the pressure of my bite
acts on instinct
as the words soak, inked
time imemorial
illuminated under the hot sun beams
through the window little rainbows dance
on the bed linen same old
pretty looking heart healing soft feeling
bold moves and boulders
hurtle down the mountain side but with you
by my side it seemed impossible
unstoppable we were until
you stopped short of expectations
waiting patiently at the train station
for crumbling goodbyes and never agains and whys
no closure, forgotten, moved on, stepped over
and left to pick up the pieces of a promise
etched in my chest, deceit is
harder to swallow dressed up in a sweetie
wrapper but it's better swallowed whole than
watching life slip away, folded
up on the kitchen table with the sunday morning
May 13 · 33
may twelfth
Jane May 13
The melancholy is thick on my tongue
heavy on my shoulders
tight around my chest
pulling me down and down
under the bathwater as I stew,

The sad is not loud or exultant
it is not rage-fueled or violent
but a soft, lowly whisper
which crashes against me
waves of velvet and suffocating
emptiness tangled in my
ventricles, clenching and
draining and dimming.

Sit with it, they tell you
honour those feelings that steal your breath
or gut you with painful precision
sit and accept and move on
but how can I move forward when
time has lost meaning and
life has no direction and
purpose trickles down the drain
with the last of the bubbles.
May 2 · 50
Icarus Girl
Jane May 2
She shines bright like a star desperate to be seen among the inky night sky
In a universe stretching galaxies, with milky ways of endless beauty and terror and brightness and wonder.

She carries on flickering in the hope that those who spot her are guided to better things by her light.
She burns hot, forever aflame and highlighting the vast darkness that can never be kept at bay.
There cannot exist one without its opposing force and no matter how hard she tries, the pitch black will prevail.

She rails against the odds, emitting radiant hues in white and red and green and blue
Painting the universe with a haze that is distinctly hers, tirelessly working to brighten, lighten, to thrive.

But what happens when stars burn too bright having spent that light being seen
wished upon
and there's none left to fuel the spark?

What happens to little stars alone in the sprawling universe, unseen and unmourned when they burn out?

They fall.
May 2 · 38
Jane May 2
I am an empty well with nothing left to give but the frayed, overused rope and a bucket full of holes.
No water left to quench your thirst but my tears my wet your cheek, cool your skin, soak you to the bone. I am a forced metaphor.
Recycled. Chipped away at the corners to fit my new mold. I am empty. I have nothing left to give.
Apr 23 · 26
So below
Jane Apr 23
The tale of Persephone dances on my skin
Birdsong felt hell-deep in my soul
White dress stained red, pomegranate
carcass left to be reclaimed by the soil.
Seeds and sticky juices long forgotten,
as seasons turn and reunion means retreating
but the hallowed halls held on weary shoulders
call and her heart will always answer.
Slipping a hand in that of the one she gives it all up for
to gain everything with.
Tempestuous eyes, weathered brow, slight smile
gleaming in the darkened corridors as she claims her throne

Apr 15 · 36
sunny spots
Jane Apr 15
new life in a shell
brittle and cold
weight lifted, shoulders
drop and lungs sigh.

feline unfurling in the
sun warm exploring
muscle aches, joints
oiled and creating happy shapes.

room to move and enjoy
airy and open
skin pulled over, sinew
ready to settle and rest.

wiggling toes and brows
at peace and soft
teeth sink, lips
ready and patiently waiting.

memories dance atop
a body remembering
sunny days, past
delights will be born again.
Mar 7 · 35
Too far, stretched
Jane Mar 7
I have mistreated my body for far too long
And the cracks begin to show.
Furious, red, screaming against the alabaster
Why have you done this to us?
What gave you the right to?

Forcing food down our gullet
Sedentary. Sluggish.
Purge, regret, binge, repeat.
Pushing down feelings, blocking out thoughts.
The mouth and throat replacing honest conversation with fast food for faster results. Short lasting but instant gratification won out.

And now the results are in.
Battered, abused, inside and out.
The brain's poison finally externalised but not exorcised, merely adding to the litany of reasons Why.

The body is finite but never quite finished. Unfurling.
Forced to withstand the gluttony and shame, embodied, entrenched.
Bone deep hatred for what lives inside, oozing outward.
Desperate for it all to end. Knowing it never will. Until it does.

Is that all this life is now? Carrying the shame of bad deeds past forevermore, back bent and spirit breaking whenever the lights are on and clothes are off.
Constant reparations for sins that cannot be washed away.
Skin tarred by a brush that will never cover up the unjust punishment inflicted on this corpse.
Some days I don't mind my stretch marks. Today is not one of those days. Sitting with the feelings and accepting them is painful, but hopefully tomorrow I'll only carry love for my body.
Jane Feb 3
I want to bask in the glory of your light and drown myself with your dark. Cool contradictions burn bright inside me.

In your arms I am Brigit, crafting a searing flame. Or Hestia, perhaps, as our hearth and home become one and the same.

Bathing in the warm winter sunlight I think of us intertwined, scintillating. It is not just a little spark. It is a roaring fire.

A flicker, a glimmer in the endless dark. Keep a candle burning, my love, to guide me always home.
A full heart - my reality itching to be etched in fantastical imagery. Forever burning for you.
Jan 11 · 212
Blue-tinted glasses
Jane Jan 11
She deserved it.
Everyone agrees with me.
The signals mixing with the cocktails
and I don't even know what time it is.

She had it coming.
Her parents told her so.
I was acting like any guy would. Should.
Skin taunting. Hips hypnotising me with
That rhythmic pulsing

She wanted it.
How was I supposed to know
when she bit her
lip that way, flirted that
way, smiled that
way, dressed

She did it to herself.
It's not my fault.
That's the way things are, right?
Writing prompt: you are the villain, but unaware of it.
Jan 9 · 38
saviour/save her
Jane Jan 9
i dream of a brave girl, bold and becoming
she steps with purpose and holds her head high
shoulders back, face determined but soft

i dream she will save me from the fear
slaying demons and battling foes
so great they paralyse mere mortals

but she will never come
because she is a version of me too out of reach
and instead i must find comfort in my own reflection
Jan 9 · 93
Jane Jan 9
sick of stumbling on words that don't fit
trying to sound pretty but just tasting ash on my tongue
the dirt is just dirt, not a bed for sprouting new leaves
no cultivation will help me blossom
the meagre harvest of years gone by is as good as it gets
perhaps it's time to hang up the emotional shears
it's too painful to keep trying and not make it
let me fall asleep on the moss and become part of the scenery
Jan 9 · 42
Jane Jan 9
life has become a series of snapshots in soft focus.
my heart constricts and all i can do is whisper into the empty room.
desperate to turn the ugly into art - make it beautiful.
then the hurt is worthwhile. the alternative is just too sad.
Jan 8 · 34
Whale of this time
Jane Jan 8
How can people find beauty in stretch marks
born from unnecessary overindulgence and a lack of restraint?
The professor drawing
attention to the issues, inconsistencies,
failures of the ongoing test of self-control
Cracks in the pavement
where rotten weeds refuse to stay hidden
the ideal conditions for ugliness to thrive and thwart
the constructed beautiful facade
There is nothing pretty about self-sabotage
There is nothing redeemable in such a loss of control
The boundaries of my body
Under too much pressure
Too much
Why do I destroy myself time after time
Dec 2019 · 80
Hug many
Jane Dec 2019
The sky turns purple grey on the last aft of the decade and I can't help but lean into the flirtatious nature of newness and clean slate (even if only until the sun rises anew)
Goodbye 2019
Dec 2019 · 76
Jane Dec 2019
awhile on my heart
let yourself be
known as you
are not as they say
you must be
built anew
in your own reflection
as you are
safe in here
I promise
Happy Hogmanay
Dec 2019 · 32
Jane Dec 2019
I spend my days weaving threads between our fingers and praying you never sever the link. Blood drips on the sheets, a rosy reminder of the mutilation love leaves behind. Hallowed whispers float on the breeze, prayers that would but scream if only they could speak. Knotted and infinite, almost. Only cool steel can stop us. Don't let go.
Nov 2019 · 48
Jane Nov 2019
No room for closed minds
in a sea of writhing bodies
Plenty for the lonely
as I sit surrounded by noise
Empty but for the heaviness
inside every part of me.

Be good, be gracious, be willing
don't ruin this for them
Be happy, be into it, be excited
don't let your selfishness override.

Bending and bending
over and out of shape
Twisting this way and that
to ensure your happiness
That you get your fill
of small, beautiful, better.

But now as I shatter
all I feel is guilty
Questions dizzying
and stomach turns.

Why am I not enough?
Nov 2019 · 589
Jane Nov 2019
It sits heavy on my heart
Stirs up my stomach
Twists me into knots
And I hate it.

Putrifaction in my veins
Rotting away my soul
Tearing my confidence to shreds
Digging deeper, desperate to taint.

Shiny. New. Small. Wanted.
Everything I'm not.
Dependable doesn't beckon bedfellows
When the unknown waltzes by in satin and ***.

Monstrous. Ever-present. Bellowing.
Inescapable are the doubts and fears
The panging need to be seen and held
As I was way back when.
Oct 2019 · 169
Undo me
Jane Oct 2019
I burn for you
in the blackest midnight pitch.
Though you can't see
the flush in my cheeks.
Heart racing, breath quickens
and my heat undeniable.
I want this, want us
before ashy daylight steals
you away.
Oct 2019 · 27
Come hither
Jane Oct 2019
Tingles ripple slowly along my spine
Breath wraps around my neck
Fingers trail down my sternum
Need coarses through my veins
Touches between my thighs
Kisses planted across my chest
Delights whispered in my ear
Tongue explores my mouth
Circles drawn on my sensitive flesh
Stars explode behind my eyelids
Arms hold my limp body
She makes me beautiful
Oct 2019 · 63
Jane Oct 2019
He loves me
He wants her
I'll bend over backwards
Turn my stomach inside out
Sit home and pick myself apart
The ugly outside and in
Wishing I was more, less, better, not
Knowing all the while it's not me
But his too big heart and too much lust
Desperate to connect
And I know that desperation well
I had a him and a her and a them
He let me connect with
Encouraged, even
So the guilt wraps around me
Vice-like and unrelenting
Because I owe him this freedom
Without my hesitation and fear
I'll bite my tongue
Grin with blood soaked teeth
And let him roam awhile
Praying he'll return without resentment
In his belly
As he takes in his fill of her.
Oct 2019 · 113
Make it stop
Jane Oct 2019
Words tumble like broken glass from my mouth
Shards cutting my tongue and crunching between teeth

A demon claws at my chest, another stealing my breath
And I wish I would slip away but I'm all too aware

What will it take to quiet the screams
Ringing in my ears, catching in my throat
Oct 2019 · 116
Maiden voyage
Jane Oct 2019
Trail pretty words across my skin
Promise me nothing and give me the world's ripe fruit
As I quench my thirst with your juices.
Etch stars behind mine eyelids
And capture my breath in your whisper
As you weave fantasy in my tapestry golden hues of wonder.
Unlocking mysteries with your lips.
Wrapping your hair in my hands.
We become as one.
Your hand on my throat. My waist. My thigh. My cheek. Me.

The new day brings adventure
And we young hearts will never wake the same
As we do tonight.
Oct 2019 · 61
Late night delight
Jane Oct 2019
Witching hour
Temptation at its peak
Traveling south
Heat beckons
Soft and ready
Pulling you in
And under
After midnight
Up above
As below
Explorers delve
In inky midnight
Flesh meets flesh
Souls ignite
Chanting tongues
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