If I got seriously injured during
A soccer game and
Started crying,
It would not be because of the
Pain of the injury.
It would be because I was worried
I couldn't keep playing.

Pain shoots through my spine,
blood flow is restricted,
to the pain meds I´m starting to get addicted,

I can hear the bones in my knee krack,
and I could feel the tendon snap,

I spent my life training, riding, playing, swimming,
now everything is compromised,
this ontop of all is hell summarized,

but Im plowing through,
screaming in pain,
but nothing can stop me now,
my head is too deep into the game.

I paid my therapist £600 for a piece of paper
to tell me what's wrong with me.
I don't care about money, it's just a figure
like the numb large sum
Sitting in my bank account.

How you ****** me up
I dream of you,
I dream a river of red, dyed by your blood
How much I wish I hit you
with that glass, again and again, on the
back of your head, until you fall down
When you locked me in that room
And stopped me in my road.

If I had a trigger, I would have pulled it
a thousand times over. No blink.
No,
they are all wrong. "You were too slutty"
"It's because you were frivolous"
How is jeans and a hoodie frivolous?
Tell me, how is it my fault
for a man three times my age to try
ripping my clothes off
at 16 year old?

I want to watch
bruises bloom across my skin until
my body is an untouchable wilderness vast
and raging I
feel so powerful;
the seeds I sow spring
to life at an instant
red goose egg under flesh
hatching, spilling yolk,
purple yellow green.

I want to be
at the mercy of the sea
tossed effortlessly, crashed
against thorny rocks
in oscillation
over and over until I am
as lifeless and brittle as the foam on the shore I
feel so powerless but it's
liberating, no longer breathing, no longer here,
surrender, surrender to the tide

oh no.
my hand slipped.

The ice was thick on the hill
but I don't remember being afraid,
only the warmth of my breath
on my frosted tongue.
I had put my feet against the ground,
hopped from place to place,
prayed to the earth
so She would forgive me,
but winter is unforgiving.
I remember the smell of wet soil, rot,
the snapping of twigs
as I fell backwards.
An eternity
all at once,
the boiling sky blurred, rolled,
my limbs calling
for the silence,
my spine meeting stone and fury.
Agony, relief,
sliced me open.
I remember trying to stand,
how my feet wouldn't move
even when I pleaded with them,
begged them
to forgive me.
How black blood is
when it pools in your eyes,
how hot
and itchy, molten,
against your eyelashes.
It doesn't hurt
when your lungs fill with blood,
it feels warm.
Like a mother comforting you,
screaming for help,
asking why she wasn't told,
grasping the arms of doctors
and patients.
Losing patience,
too much blood on her hands,
it felt like thistles, weeds,
reclaiming my skin
and repossessing my breath.
Drag me under a blanket of moss
and cherish my open wounds -
I created a valley of red,
crimson, so bright
they all fell in love with me,
my namesake.
I contracted, clotted,
but there was still blood within me.
I was still alive
yet no bleach could remove
the stains from my surface,
it left its mark
in scars and the dark
and all that remains
is two eyes peering
at me.

It was as if the world itself fell away and all that existed was the piano. He reluctantly made his way over to the gigantic instrument, and simply stared. His hands, seeming to have a mind of their own, absentmindedly struck few comfortable keys. The hollow notes hung, as is frozen in midair, before bouncing about the room and finally fading into silence. A hushed quiet falls on his unnoticed audience as he stands above the playground of his hands. His fingers hover above the ivory keys, fearing the outcome he knew would accompany his continuance. With a frown he pushed on, filling the room with strings of beautiful music, playing out his very soul. It was more than music, it was life, it was the feeling of soft grass warmed by the rays of the afternoon sun, it was the first sip of cold lemonade on a blistering day, but to him it was her. Suddenly, the music became soft and somber, as the tempo grew erratic and uncontrolled. He felt anger course through him as his hand grew tighter and began to lock in unusual places. His listeners now shuffle nervously while others look on, concerned for their unknowing player. His anger gives way to despair as his right hand suddenly cracks and grows limp, leaving his left to finish with only a lonely chord. As the last notes ring out, he cradles his hand and turns to leave only to hear clapping.

She wanted more,
more than she was able to have.

She wasn't happy with herself,
she wanted to be part of their world.

Swimming wasn't enough.

Oh how she wanted to walk,
to walk away from all of her problems.

The people she let down.
The disappointment.

She was scared.
Scared that she'll never be as good as she was,
a long time ago,
in a place almost distant.

She changed.

She lost her voice.
Her motivation.
Her desire.

She wanted to be happy Again.
She had lost her world and everything important.

She wanted to go back
to her previous home.

She jsut wanted to swim
and be happy
with little disappointment.

It was fear that held her back.