Rachael Stainthorpe

Rachael Stainthorpe Jul 2013

My body is wet, and slick
writhing from pain somewhere within
and still there is a smile on my face,
for every grimace for every single sin.
I don't mean to be this way,
it's a coping mechanism, long been taught
and i live this daily battle,
til my mind is subconscious and overwrought.
I mean to love you,
and i'm sorry if it's just too much,
that it begins with some words,
and it begs for my sublime touch.
For i am superbly subliminal consciously,
with every note i speak,
and i cannot help that i love you,
for my heart is tough but weak.
And the crowds are laughing,
the cupboard is lacking and bare,
and i sit here and sigh,
whilst you sit with them and stare.
Wait for me to fall for you,
then beg me to stay,
tell i am beautiful, enlightening, precocious and rare,
and then take it away.
I can hear my heart pushing at the black of the sweat,
and i am partially here nor there,
and i am partially yours whether you want me,
under the weight of your succinct stare.
But your victory over me
is not through the love for me that you wish,
it is rather through your rejection,
best served cold, in a hand for a dish.
Nevermind my worries, nor my cares,
I know i am of no consequence nor thought,
of everything in your daily life,
but trouble i seem to have brought.
My dear, my darling, my love, my quarry,
I seek nothing but silence with you,
for i know at least your words,
once uttered, is a missile projected from you.
I am sweat and hard work,
I am scary, new and everything you fear,
but your rejection, though rough,
is what i expected, my dear.
There is nothing i can expect,
you will not allow yourself to become tainted by me,
and my devils they call to my aide,
to show you the wrong side of being free.
You are not willing through self righteous fear
of being covered in the dirt of my love and care,
and when you are not looking,
i am always really, just here, and there.
To want is to suffer,
of this i know which is to be true,
i was sent you in a lesson to learn,
and i was meant to learn from, about, and in you.
I have a wet, slick, black wanton spirit,
there is no innocence in my blue eyes,
for everything i love within myself,
is equally something there to despise.
There is no crowd now,
there is abrupt silence in the dried up air,
intake of acrid, wanton, holy breath,
to see if you really do truly care.
And this aint no love song,
there are no guitar rifts or longing in the chorus of a singular word,
i merely cannot understand you, to love you
and my flight is as free as a bird.
I am wet, and slick, from lack of sleep,
there is something of you inside my head
and every night i wish i was dreaming,
but i think of you instead.
My love,
my quarrel,
my fear,
my future.
Never have dis-pleasured someone so much,
with a singular, single, millimetre of tingle of a touch.

Rachael Stainthorpe Jul 2013

Don't be afraid

Whether or not you love me,
you have to walk out in this world,
and know there is something to lose
and some victory,
there is only something in you making history,
by falling in love, with me.

Rachael Stainthorpe Jul 2013

Broken Record (Edited)

If you see my ex girlfriend can you tell her,
tell her i took her t-shirt and ripped it up,
tell her i made something good, **** good out of it,
and it fit real well,
in all the places i've got left;
can you tell her, tell her,
i still have her shelves she left me,
and on the shelves full of heavy books and antique cameras,
lies a card she once wrote for me,
because it reminds me to be strong,
and tell her this card,
even though it sits on her shelves,
it is no way a regard to thoughts of her, now, still.
Can you tell her,
I threw away all the kitten food i had left over,
I took the kittens to a new home,
because they would be better with someone else,
i thought, that was for the best,
it was for the best,
can you tell her that?
Can you tell her that,
I miss her, but i don't mourn her,
I don't care to feel anything for her anymore,
as i look at the pictures,
i left of us, messing around,
in the park,
the two most beautiful girls we knew,
that i never deleted.
Can you tell her it took a year and another girl to get over her?
Can you tell her,
it was her that made me get over her?
In her hoody as i walked home,
from the night before,
i realised i had cried so many tears for the wrong person,
but i still loved who she was,
regardless,
can you tell her?
Tell her that i love her and always will,
because there is something inside of me,
that is broken,
broken like a record,
and it never stops, going around, and around,
like she was the record player,
and i was the record,
but something scratched me,
and i was never the same,
played in repeat, over and over, again,
a line sung of love, hate, misery and lust,
in a song that never stopped playing.
And now can you tell her,
tell her that i killed me to love her,
i wore my heart proudly,
bleeding on my chest,
from old battle scars and war wounds,
and tell her,
she should never be afraid to die for someone she loves,
because i want her to know,
that in the midst of all the broken pieces,
i was inside of her, outside of her, and had her,
but i never let her know,
because like a broken record,
i was stuck at the same spot from the last ride.
Can you tell her?
Tell her i think about the times she made me laugh,
really laugh til my soul fell out,
and the time she officially asked me out,
and i had no clue,
and i loved her for that
because she made it part of us.
Can you tell her,
she is missed, and loved,
and though we will never be,
she played me a song i had never heard before,
and i fell in love with her music right then.
Can you tell her?
She left a legacy, and changed the clocks when she left.
Can, you, tell her?

Rachael Stainthorpe Jul 2013

Sweet posion

You.
you've poisoned me.
something
inside
is wrapping
itself
around
my
heart.
It's in
my
veins
and i
can feel
you
to
the ends
of my
fingertips.
It's in me.
You
are
in
me.

Rachael Stainthorpe Jul 2013

Broken record

If you see my ex girlfriend can you tell her,
tell her i took her t-shirt and ripped it up,
tell her i made something good, **** good out of it;
can you tell her, tell her,
i still have her shelves she left me,
and on the shelves lies a card she wrote for me,
because it reminds me to be strong,
and tell her this card,
even thought it sits on her shelves,
it is no way a regard to thoughts of her, now, still.
Can you tell her,
I threw away all the kitten food i had left over,
I took the kittens to a new home,
because they would be better with someone else,
i thought, that was for the best,
can you tell her that?
Can you tell her that,
I miss her, but i don't mourn her,
I don't care to feel anything for her anymore,
as i look at the pictures,
i left of us, messing around,
in the park,
the two most beautiful girls we knew.
Can you tell her it took a year and another girl to get over her?
Can you tell her,
it was her that made me get over her?
In her hoody as i walked home,
from the night before,
i realised i had cried so many tears for the wrong person,
but i still loved who she was,
can you tell her?
Tell her that i love her and always will,
because there is something inside of me,
that is broken,
broken like a record,
and it never stops, going around, and around,
like she was the record player,
and i was the record,
and she scratched me,
and i was never the same.
And now can you tell her,
tell her that i killed me to love her,
and she should never be afraid to die for someone she loves,
because i want her to know,
that in the midst of all the broken pieces,
i was inside of her, outside of her, and had her,
but i never let her know,
because like a broken record,
i was stuck at the same spot from the last ride.
Can you tell her?
Tell her i think about the times she made me laugh,
and the time she officially asked me out,
and i had no clue,
and i loved her for that.
Can you tell her,
she is missed, and loved,
and though we will never be,
she played me a song i had never heard before,
and i fell in love with the music right then.
Can you tell her?

Rachael Stainthorpe Jul 2013

What the F&*k is this Sh^t?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTgCn4qmRvU
Sometimes, i think i knew who you are,
because i build you in my mind,
and this makes you ok.
Like i have looked through the eye-hole
of my handmade gun,
and let you come in.
Though really,
i don't know who the ******* are,
or who the **** i am dealing with.
I don't understand, 'you'.
I don't get why, i have to leave, to walk away,
but yet,
I want you to follow,
even just to ask me if i am ok,
even just as a friend,
and it didn't matter that we had ******, quite a few times.
Did i hurt you?
No, i definitely don't think so.
Do i appear emotionally erratic?
I don't think so, but,
Yes;
because people like you, and before you, before,
used words i don't understand to hurt me,
uttered from their mouths, that they then used to kiss me
and tell me 'it's alright', or 'you're mine', or 'you're beautiful',
and you knew about them,
or am i erratic because i wish to mean nothing more than great ***, wine and food, to you,
but, some kind of respect would be nice;
i mean, i show more love to my hamster, and he can't talk.
What's wrong with that?
I don't mean to reel you in,
and have you;
Indeed i like you a lot,
(sorry liked),
but i don't understand why it is easier to ignore me,
than talk to me,
or is it because,
because you can't feel anything then,
or you handle the madness you created?
Or was it my madness to begin with?
Or was it just you being an emotionally errant piece of work,
who once got your heart broken by someone you unequivocally loved,
and it divided you, and both made you in to the man you are,
So, who are you? Man or mouse?
But also,
is it true that you can't handle the knowing, that, you did this.
To someone you liked.
I know, because you told me.
Because its easier to ignore and pretend it never happened.
That's such an easy play....easy peasy lemon squeezy *******.
You are responsible for your fuckwittery.
You reacted in a emotionally unintelligent childish way,
calling me names, ignoring me, judging me, telling me i had a certain disorder,
(tho you never read Kant, left school at 16, and well, no job, slept around, lived in a fantasy land, anything else? Exhibitionist? Master? OCD?)
**** knows, but i didn't fit in with your world.
'you are a victim, you play it so well, you're looking for a hero'
Now that was a good one,
so good it broke my heart,
and i never even loved you,
but apparently you thought it was ok,
to break another human being, just because you can't handle........what the **** is it?
So now i think i know who you are,
I test you once or twice,
I contact you,
because I like to believe in some insane, maniacal way, we were, ooooh dare i say, friends...?
And the reaction is the same.
So it lends me to believe,
you liked me enough to **** me,
but when you liked me enough to care,
or because i 'would mean something to you',
or 'you don't know me at all',
or did i emasculate you?
and that, it really really, wasn't ok.....
So here is my responsibility taking effect;
I am truly and utterly sorry if anything i did or said hurt/offended you in an invisible manner i knew not of because i didn't know you, and you didn't let me in, for many reasons, (probably the aforementioned heartbreak/or your masculine ego), and i am sorry if i somewhat acted erractic, crazy, stalkerish, because i had no clue as to what was going on or had happened, with us.
Enough?
And, phew, argh,
For something i do not understand,
I see through you,
but me, in my own wonderful way
think you're more than that,
a better person;
but i did not deserve your full on ******* egotistic-defense full on eradicate mode,
(because one of you,
one of you, i really loved.....
but its ok because,
born a rag doll, always a rag doll, isn't that what you said?
To think that, I loved you **** good baby)
'You do it yourself, you do'
That's a good one
And no, I am no more 'mental' than you are a '****'
Think about that as you judge me
on your internet throne
ignoring me on your black book phone.
What the **** is this ****?

Revelation through writing has never been so empowering.

Rachael Stainthorpe Jul 2013

A Lone Huntress

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4proTUy0pa4

“I am not like other women.
I am deceptively ravenous.
I do not throw myself at others.
When I want something, I take it,
Grab with both hands, Dig my nails in.
If that is simply more than you can handle,
Stay out of my reach.”
— deform & dysfunction

I am ravenous.
This is true.
I am hungry.
I salivate,
over the thought of eating you whole,
Your juices running down my tongue, lips and chin.

You're easy to capture,
For I am like a flitting, fluttering, irresistible, piece of the earth,
You seek, and sought.
I pay you a compliment;
I like you.
You're stunning.
I want you to **** me like you hate me.
You eagerly run to me; you try to play it cool, as, ****,
But I've read you right from wrong,
Left from right
Up from down.
And you come to me,
You listen to me,
You want me,
You're scared to take me,
I know this,
I know, you.
And when you finally have me,
I will leave you,
And leave you with a sweet taste in your mouth,
A ******* good memory in your head,
And a good hard wanting, in your pants.
You don't really, know,
I will never leave you,
Though physically, emotionally, mentally,
You think you make me leave,
You know I'm the most intensely intoxifying glimpse of a thing
You could ever have had,
And your heart beats harder, in fear,
Because I am the best thing you never had.
And you try to run away.
But my darling,
A huntress never leaves her prey alive.
Easy, you were.
But alone I will be,
For people like you,
are too easy for me,
And not suitable in the long term....