Is that art?
Is it meant to tear me apart?
An art
Art that embodies the heart

For I need a refresh
A way to sample all this mess
Hopefully a way to de-stress
Maybe one day I'll get

Get it all
Get it soon
One day I'll come out of the cocoon
Although it feels like a typhoon
Hitting me
Shifting me

Tearing me into pieces
Pain that I hope ceases
A way to refresh
An out
Completely new flesh

That light above me, I'll never reach it
My long arms are covered in white mould
It's spreading.

Trapped in this rigid bark
I can only grow to reach where I want to be
My actions are bound by a time I don't have.

I wish someone would take the burden
To free me from my rotten parts.
Fruits can't hang from what's dead.

A man assisted

me, just an ordinary --


man, not from heaven.

Cold, perhaps even

everything, you can endure --


with a companion.

heaving breaths and it
feels like gods choking
me again, my vocal cords
are strained, my voice
a squeak. Invisible
tears stain my cheeks,
still dry. I'm imploding
and becoming super-nova
or maybe a black hole
instead. Screaming a
whisper:

H E L P
M E

The wild fury hidden below
Emanating a wicked black flames glow
But this wraith was bestowed
When the fog lifted in the meadows

This demon had finally hit the light
After hiding so long in the dead of night
Like heat, The truth started to arise
From amoung the murky waters of deceitful lies

The fire only seemed to have grown
And its presence soon became known
The apathetic rage had consumed the mask
In which this unearthly flame was latched

The wicked, evil flame
Wouldn't, or couldn't be tamed
Not even the black hole of he abyss
Could hold a hate like this

This ferocious, deprived monster turned a field of emotion
Into a empty, bottomless ocean
Worst of all no one saw the posined knife
That is plaguing such a once joyful life

I don't expect you
to understand.
I try to explain
But you say
that I'm vain

Thinking of myself
all of the time

I'm stuck in my
own head
Screaming
Crying

I know you'll never
Understand...

one day she was sent
to a man sprawled ‘cross the pavement
in blistering sun
he, ignored by everyone.
the nice girl instinct compelled her,
alongside Hippocratic responsibility as a doctor.
her good samaritan arc began,
he her neighbour, the collapsed man
she offers him aid,
and suggests he move to the shade.
her medical assessment deems him well
but onlooker pressure to do more, she cannot quell.
he asks her to buy him heavy drink-
she tells him to have another think.
they compromise and she buys him food
just like a good samaritan should.
She wishes him a good afternoon
but all too soon
the tale begins to muddle
as he approaches for a ‘cuddle’
her sense of unease
overwhelms her compulsion to people please
“I’d rather not but all the best though”!
- he snaps and his true colours show.
the nausea hits
as he starts to shout about her ****
and chips at her sense of self respect
with an accusing “you look like you like ***”
she fights irate tears
over his leers,
summons her tough
and states that’s enough.
when he spits on her feet
she backs down the street,
maintains her false front
as he yells ******* ****.
words shouldn’t cut
but she’s branded a ****
and yes, we should not give to receive
but oh how i grieve
that to help is to choose
sexist abuse
i want to follow jesus’ ways
but he did not have to contend with the ******* male gaze

Being your allies

friends notice: we are needed --


as adversaries.