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Roo Jul 2017

Haven't you heard? Every thought in your brain is poetic.
Roo May 2017
I wish I lived in Wayne’s World,
where Wayne and Garth are real.
I wish I had Cassandra’s curls,
and her *** appeal.

I wish I dated Jason Dean,
and coloured him impressed.
I wish I had the killer gene,
but never ever confess.

I wish I went to Ashfield Hospital,
and looked a little on edge.
Explored shutter island in the spittle,
and made the Marshall pledge.

I wish I lived with Yeats,
or in the lonely moated grange,
I wish I danced on table tops,
my body for money,  fair exchange.

I wish reality didn’t exist,
or better yet just me,
all those opportunities would be missed,
and at peace I’d finally be.
A few of my favourite films/poems/poets incorporated into what started off as a uniform poem but soon disintegrated.  (a metaphor for my life)
Roo May 2017
When I left him, I felt my void intimately. Learnt my way through its darkness with only my bare hands to guide me. It's unworldly creatures sought comfort in my throat but I was never created to be a shelter for the devils that reside in me.

I vowed never to be the darkness without realising that I too could be swallowed whole.
for harry
Roo Feb 2017
(TW ****** abuse, suicide)

My body comes with a trigger warning,
to see me naked no longer
means the same thing.
I'm ugly. Scarred,
Both emotionally and physically.
I need help,
but I don't know how to reach out.
My voice has been silenced
by one too many men,
controlling, abusing, ruining.

Recently, the emotional pain I had been
rejecting when I remembered my ****
hit me all at once.
I couldn't breath, I couldn't see, I couldn't feel
anything except, well,
suddenly, the knot that never disappears from my chest
grew. Minutely at first, then it became more confident.
It knew it was taking over my body: my arms and legs and feet and fingers went paralytic, all I could hear was a ringing noise, raging in my ears.

Sometimes, I mix *** with death. Both seem like the ending to me. I'll fantasise about being dressed up for ***, I'll slide downstairs and seductively choose my lover. I'll debate over men, women and everyone else in between and outside, but I know from the beginning which I'll choose. I'll slink over to the knives and select the biggest and baddest I own. I won't shake, I won't back down. I can feel it sliding between the layers of my skin as we speak now, I can feel my body weakening.

I'm so tired, my friends. I've spent so many years fighting back and now all I want to do is sleep, forever.
Roo Sep 2016
Walking back home along the rim of the galaxy, the colours rip her body into an abyss, and her whole entirety spills from her guts.

The fears and terror that dare not haunt the day,

well, the brass of city lights taunt them to play

yet as the door shuts, the dread will always shrink away.
I wrote this walking home in the dark which was, as always, a terrifying experience.
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