maybe this is
all just a film.

an indie film
starring troubled teenage girls
finding out who they truly are;

a horror film
starring an ex-convict
being haunted by
his petrifying past;

a romance film
with cringy punchlines,
sly glances in the hallways,
passing notes during sessions,
a wink or a two.

this,
what we had,
was no more than
a documentary.

the brusque strokes of color
writing the art of detaching one's heart
in a single streak,
overwritten by harsh
and rash decisions,
regret bursting
through the air,
the feeling of being torn apart
by the swaying wind,
whispering,

the curtains
finally closed.

a bittersweet moment.
Emerald Jan 3

persistently the next half hour you descry
a physical ripe sombre of theraphy
almost parallel to the velleity black box which rests in
the corner of
a cleansed embouchure
while in this moment I reflect (an undoing)
to the puzzling collections of vulnerability with frail
strangers but
i'm dreaming of another anatomy "detachment voicemails for the 200th time enthralling
parllor doubt of our eventuate catharsis"
headaches rapt speaking softer, perhaps it's a scarlet crushed
rivive creaping
by to heal the burns


- G

happy 2018
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lbyec9N506o
Em MacKenzie Dec 2017

Pack up my personality,
make sure the tape really sticks.
This home has been my totality,
every board and all the bricks.
Throw away my secrets,
we'll need a bag just for those,
and I hope I won't have to repeat this,
but I don't want those stains on my clothes.
The woman makes the threads anyways, I suppose.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
it gave me warmth and so much more,
when I was stranded it was my shore,
home is where the heart is, so says the lore.

Put away my memories,
in a box that's labeled "fragile,"
'cause even though they'll lift with ease,
I'd prefer for them all not to pile.
Throw away the forgotten fights,
the ones that always left the scars.
Make sure to only bring the nights,
with the brightest moon and stars,
but they won't fit into such small cars.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
where I sat dazed on the floor,
feeling high enough to soar,
home is where the heart is, but I'm lacking that core.

Store away my personality,
the one that fits me like a glove,
all the things that compile of me,
and illustrate all the things I love.
Throw away the parts of me that are broken,
I don't think I'll ever long for them,
but wait, maybe I've just misspoken,
cause that's the root of my twisted stem,
even a damaged jewel is still a gem.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
and there won't be twenty-four more.
It'll be the last time that I close that door,
I have no idea what's now in store,
home is where the heart is, but my chest is bruised and sore.

So say goodbye to Tower,
a street where once I walked each path,
where I knew each tree and flower,
and love's bliss and heartbreak's wrath.
Also say farewell to family,
well essentially it's only the dwelling,
but I don't know what life has planned for me,
as with the future there is no telling.

It'll be the last time that I close that door,
on those twenty-four years before,
there won't be twenty-four more.
It'll be the last time that I close that door,
I'll open a window to even the score,
home is where the heart is, but the beats feel like a chore.

I wish it could be more like Billy Joel's "movin' out" but Billy wasn't as bitter and sad as I.
Halfblood Nov 2017

my heart has been flipped upside.
it's bleeding grey.

ouch
nainz Oct 2017

I sit in the chair, gazing.
Was it stars? Was it the moon?
What was the sight that took my being away from the present?
It was not a vision, rather a feeling.
To escape
Escape can be easy but is not always the safest path.
A fork in the journey requires a decision.
One way is full of kindness,
The other of pain
What would you decide?
The kindness brings numbness with it
While the pain brings fear
Fear which is beyond your comprehension.
Fear which creates the pain
Pain so intense it is felt in every inch of the physical body.
So you choose kindness?
The kind type of numbness that is as beautiful as a drug
Yet as ugly as the comedown
Take a step back and watch it play out
No pain, no fear
However the emptiness is haunting
The sound distorted and lingering
The prompts to face the pain and fear become louder
Stronger
More persistent
Snap
The focus shifts back to reality
No more fading
Just now a reality which has a little more emptiness ingrained within it

Pagan Paul Aug 2017

.
Bare feet pound along the pavement
yet there is not feeling.
The connection with the tangible solid
has with it no true healing.

The detached mind floats up high
a million miles away.
Terra firma are just empty words,
stout rock becoming clay.

As retraction of the emotions sits
apart from what is real.
A no-man's land of security shrieks
'this is what I feel'.

Withdrawal has its positive notes,
protection from the pain.
Keeping close the hearts secret safe,
never to be killed again.

Autopilots most clever disguises hide
that which should be faced.
But burying reality in cold defiance
renders it all but erased.

© Pagan Paul (29/08/17)

.
Just how I'm feeling right now.
.

I'm sorry, but I cannot give,
without being given .
Though my fee is fair.
So please; Do pay.
If you want me to care.

It's just they way it now is.
A brand new start,
Since I privatised my heart

My blood may run green,
But I'm not mean.
Or full of malice.
But only if you pay,
Can I give you more
Than fay sympathy.

It's just the way it now is.
A brand new start,
Since I privatised my heart.

If one takes everything that is goin' on in the United States
TOO seriously,
It will just fuck with your mind.
True,
Donald Trump is an AUTHORITARIAN PERSONALITY.....
A "Control Freak".
Ultimately,
Vice-President Mike Pence
Would like to make the United States
Into a Christian Theocracy.
If you have any sex outside of marriage
Or if you practice any Religious Tradition other than Christianity,
You would get arrested.
They're that extreme.
Nevertheless, these people are what they are.
They aren't in control of THEIR Situation,
And WE can't control them.
So, enjoy the circus while you can.
It might eventually become a violent political meltdown.
However,
If you DON'T LIKE to be controlled,
Don't make the mistake of trying to get in control of these Fascists.
Fascists, historically.
Have a way of digging their own graves.

5 | 31 Poems for August 2017

I’ve become well-acquainted with these streets – from University Road all the way down to Park Street.
My heart skips a beat when my words touch hearts like Alex Panttiere and that’s why these hands keep writing.
You left without saying goodbye, you could’ve at least told me why.
You easily detached yourself like there were no feelings between us.
Like I didn’t love you hard enough, soft enough or even warm enough.
For weeks on end, I began hating you for leaving me the way you did.
Yet here I am writing all these words and somehow still missing you.
I’m slowly finding my way back to myself again no matter how severe the pain.
I’ll pick myself up and finally find the strength and courage to love again.
Maybe in your quiet time at exactly the right time, I can be your true valentine.
Sometimes jacarandas fall with no intention of lighting up the streets with their purple blooms again.

Here I am writing all these words and somehow still missing you.
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