And these dreams will be the death of me.
Broken sleep &
relentless lethargy.
I'm out of control,
so I'm told.
I've slipped outside of my soul,
or so I'm told.
My nose runs consistently,
Yet I don't have a cold.
Now everything hurts,
and yet I feel so cold.
REM dream sequences;
play me on repeat.
play on repeat,
Everybody hurts too but they carry on,
Won't admit defeat.
Not me,
I bend under the pressure,
Malleable,
& then break what's,
Valuable.
I'm weak at the knees,
alieness in alloness of stress;
Please let me rest,
Stop stealing my shut eye by looking in to mine,
I walked the line,
But crossed it,
No going back now I think,
I shudder each time I blink.
And in dreams I believe I could be happy,
Or at least not so sad,
Wishing to feel those feelings
That I've predominately lacked.
Now in dreams I wait to see a GP
in reality,
So he can endorse these feelings into clarity,
Prescribe me patronisingly with 50mg of setraline;
"I'm sure alls not as bad as it seems"
He says so candidly,
Whilst I'm sat here,
can't even speak,
trapped at the mercy of these endorphinemachines.

She wears the sea
in her eyes
and dances with the sand
beneath her feet

I would swear I could hear
the sun playing on the ivory
keys of her smile

and at night when the wind
is right across the sound

she runs her fingers
through my waves
and lingers while she plays

Für Elise on a black piano.

i made love to the beach
and i thought of you
its airy wind reminded me
of the time you came and went

i made love to the wind
for it sprinkled over me
like a thousand winters
harsh and cold

i made love to the sun
again and again
forever addicted
souls forever mended

i made love to the sky
for it loved me so effortlessly
it had been my morphine
just like how you used to be

(b.d.s.)

I hate self-help books.

It's not just how I feel so envious and helplessly depressed to be told 'just be happy' or 'go out there and just do something other than being depressed' with heightened language and flowery figures of speech.

The fact that a stranger out there is telling you what you should feel about a personal experience. It's as if feeling sad is the worst thing that can happen to a person, how you should be blissfully ignorant of all these things around you and just focus on being happy.

I guess I'm just saying that I want to be happy for a cause, and not just be happy carelessly. I want that kind of happiness that sticks with you inevitably, not just because you're in a certain pleasant situation. I want my happiness to be part of me and not just an experience with someone or something. I want to be truly happy and not just experience happiness.

remember that night you told me
that you loved me
and I said "prove it,"
so you took the cigarette off my lips
and said "I'm the only vice you need."

'cause nothing can ever make
             me feel more vulnerable
                     and yet safe,
                             than being
                                   with you.

i have poetry that doesn't deserve to be written on paper, metaphors that are so strong that my pen quivers when i try to write them down. they only deserve to be written between your legs with the tip of my clever tongue as the pen. it is the type of poetry that can only be recited with your moans in the background, and with your nails digging wounds into my back. i want to watch your reaction as you die a million ecstatic deaths while i write each and every word of my ****** poetry at the back of your ears, on your neck, on your collarbone that shyly peeks through your shirt and the middle of your ******* where it always feels like home. i want to worship constellation of stars on your back with kisses. every kiss serves as a period, every stroke of my tongue is an exclamation point. i want you to curse my name and pull on my hair as you feel my kisses go, oh so excruciatingly slowly, up your inner thighs. there are not enough metaphors for me to tell you how beautiful you are to me, but here i am still trying to praise you with everything i have.