Brother, the stilts you stand on scare me.
Towering high to rip down our sun
And leave us all in darkness.
You shout down at me fast, and passionately.
You feel this in your heart, but my God
Can I feel the beat through my entire body.
It should be shaking the melanin right off
Of your middle class skeleton, strong
With the calcium of tall men's lies.
Take those stilts off, and walk a mile
With us, fighting our bodies to fetch
Our water, brown and thick with their ****.
I am appalled. Life is dangerous enough,
Without people like you, blending into the night,
With only your wickedly naive eyes giving you away.

Whatever I did, or said, to make you think
That every moment of your life must be painted
And etched onto my soul, I apologise.
You can stop now. Stop, look, and blink.
Ask yourself if I want to be acquainted
To all these stories where a part of me dies.
I don't ******* care.
You're still talking.
Shut the **** up.

Spoken Word Poetry.

Prosecute me.
Feed me to the wolves.
I cannot live
              with what I have done to you.

I am beastly.
Pale behind the curtain.
Thick with the deceit
              you have cut through.

You are calm.
In this sea of heresy.
You are the light in my day, illuminating.

That's why it's frustrating,
And grating,
When I think of us copulating.

Systematic mating.
              Somewhat creating.

All because I am hating
Who you have made me in to.

This pulsating,
              agitating,
                              being.

Alienating instead of
                          a l l e v i a t i n g
                          this excruciating complexity.  

I was detonating.

And it -
           it was fascinating.

Not it.
That was just penetrating.

Suffocating and terminating my bond with you.

Separating.

So that I could begin accelerating

And clearly  a r t i c u l a t i n g
Who I really wanted to be.

It was   i n c a p a c i t a t i n g.
And yet intoxicating.

Because you are what I want.
Despite it all.
I want you.

So prosecute me.

Please feed me to the wolves.
I cannot live with what I have done to you.

You are calm.
Whilst I am on fire.

You see this world.
This I know to be true.
But you see refractions
And shadows of other yous.
Your cries are misrepresented
Seen as horror in the night
But I know that it's just Peter Pan
Making faces in the light.

You are different.
I'll give you that.
But differences are just
Glitter in the cracks.
Some may say that
You are wrong,
But you're not, their
Imagination is just gone.

You are beautiful.
Scars and all.
Scars especially; it's
Strength, not a downfall.
Hold on to the colours
Dancing in your head,
Because without them, girl
It will all be grey instead.

I miss you,
And your smug smile,
The way you'd hmm
At every thought
And possibility.
Time was irrelevant
With you at my side,
Seconds were oceans,
And minutes were the sun.
I loved the world
As it was with you,
Dazzlingly confusing
Yet so simple.
It was topaz.
Semi-precious,
Yet so beautiful.
Like you.

Penance comes to me on the eve
Of the second coming,
Awash with promise and horizons
That have never seen the night.
I know my own name clearer
Than any punch I've ever felt;
Or slamming door where I am
Standing on the wrong side.

My name is Amelia and
I am stronger than any storm
You have ever weathered;
More powerful than a hair in
Your mouth, or smoke in your eye.
I stand before you as Atlas,
Holding up this world with the sheer
Determination of someone prepared to die.

I can see the new world through
The same eyes that used to show me
Darkness more terrifying than the day,
When light would fall into every crack,
And bounce across every word I said.
Now as I move to meet my maker,
I do so calmly, yet without caution.
I know my own name now.