Sep 24
12/12/23
Maybe I can begin to tragically write this pursuit of heartache just in the lifecycle in where it is slowly forming, slowly cracking out of its shell. When the honeymoon destination has not yet dawned but I wake up at 7am to you worrying and questioning me already.
When I’m lying vulnerable in the arms of a stranger who I met last week and I just pretend and I reassure on pillow talk that this is my this I my honest whole self I am not lying to you. I swear ive not been begging not been on my knees by my bedside praying hands bleeding as I write prayers to the guys up there to give me a vessel of affection and attention. You wrap my hair round your fingers and I start to crochet your emotions in my bare hands where you cant see. And I laugh amidst it and you ask me why I laugh and it brush it under those covers playfully as I play some more.
And I don’t play I don’t gamble but I gauge that I might begin more, who is deceiving who I can’t figure it out because I am so bleak in my heart. I was praying for you to come so I can feel something and be more than a machine I don’t want to pursue a career in acting I want to be real but before I see it form into any beauty I see it burst in flames. And your grey hair alludes to your need for security do I make you angry that I am so young with so much of the world to see with so many possibilities under my sleeve. I am comfortable in your presence in your quiet street and the quiet walk home when I look homeless. I listen to these songs in anticipation of reminiscing what we have started.
I like to write I like to feel and you have reignited this within me but you don’t know what ill say. I want you to be so sickly addicted that your downfall is at my length. Im being dramatic im trying to play a villain in the prequel of events because maybe the roles will reverse and my ego will be bruised and im always bruised but its too delicate to hurt there.
17/12/2023
I love and I hate the reignition of feeling you have set alight so so so nonchalantly you are so dim so quiet I gnaw for loud screams. I long for you to show me how violent you can be and slap me and then plaster me in your arms and kiss my bruises.
I’ve been dropped on into the town centre of liminality my heart sits on the brick wall of the station waiting. Waiting for the train to pass and the moon is kissed to tightly into itself I tightrope across and seat myself on the edge. Pierced, it impales me not like you do it reminds me a bit. I scratch the skin off my hands I have never been so anxious so sick over a body I don’t even know. You heard me you heard me write the other days and you took the cards, you slit me open when I slept under you and you gouged the cards from out my chest and stitched them onto my breast on show for you to play and stroke. And manipulate and tease. And took your fist and shoved it so deep down my throat that I cannot fathom a sentence to collect nor am I heard anyway. You told me you are not a narcissist but I am no clown and now I am. You are the king of swords you can slice me anywhere from any place and slice my skin deeply. I’m agonising from the inside I am powerless my hands you tied them behind my back you sick. It still lets me to prevail the streets numbly oh im just so numb so monotone ament I.
Maybe I can begin to tragically write this pursuit of heartache just in the lifecycle in where it is slowly forming, slowly cracking out of its shell. When the honeymoon destination has not yet dawned but I wake up at 7am to you worrying and questioning me already.
When I’m lying vulnerable in the arms of a stranger who I met last week and I just pretend and I reassure on pillow talk that this is my this I my honest whole self I am not lying to you. I swear ive not been begging not been on my knees by my bedside praying hands bleeding as I write prayers to the guys up there to give me a vessel of affection and attention. You wrap my hair round your fingers and I start to crochet your emotions in my bare hands where you cant see. And I laugh amidst it and you ask me why I laugh and it brush it under those covers playfully as I play some more.
And I don’t play I don’t gamble but I gauge that I might begin more, who is deceiving who I can’t figure it out because I am so bleak in my heart. I was praying for you to come so I can feel something and be more than a machine I don’t want to pursue a career in acting I want to be real but before I see it form into any beauty I see it burst in flames. And your grey hair alludes to your need for security do I make you angry that I am so young with so much of the world to see with so many possibilities under my sleeve. I am comfortable in your presence in your quiet street and the quiet walk home when I look homeless. I listen to these songs in anticipation of reminiscing what we have started.
I like to write I like to feel and you have reignited this within me but you don’t know what ill say. I want you to be so sickly addicted that your downfall is at my length. Im being dramatic im trying to play a villain in the prequel of events because maybe the roles will reverse and my ego will be bruised and im always bruised but its too delicate to hurt there.
17/12/2023
I love and I hate the reignition of feeling you have set alight so so so nonchalantly you are so dim so quiet I gnaw for loud screams. I long for you to show me how violent you can be and slap me and then plaster me in your arms and kiss my bruises.
I’ve been dropped on into the town centre of liminality my heart sits on the brick wall of the station waiting. Waiting for the train to pass and the moon is kissed to tightly into itself I tightrope across and seat myself on the edge. Pierced, it impales me not like you do it reminds me a bit. I scratch the skin off my hands I have never been so anxious so sick over a body I don’t even know. You heard me you heard me write the other days and you took the cards, you slit me open when I slept under you and you gouged the cards from out my chest and stitched them onto my breast on show for you to play and stroke. And manipulate and tease. And took your fist and shoved it so deep down my throat that I cannot fathom a sentence to collect nor am I heard anyway. You told me you are not a narcissist but I am no clown and now I am. You are the king of swords you can slice me anywhere from any place and slice my skin deeply. I’m agonising from the inside I am powerless my hands you tied them behind my back you sick. It still lets me to prevail the streets numbly oh im just so numb so monotone ament I.
