the good words get quiet
in front of the bad ones

the red is far too deafening -
shut palms around my ears
and yet the world is on screaming fire.
my finger joints crack in my eardrums
while the sunflowers roll in the mud.
firecracker red; fire engine red
took a nap in a sack,
the sun never goes away.

if i may i would turn to pray
to a man up in city hall
where the crowds prey,

i'm asking for a bellyache from hunger,
a shadow to leave my body -
not quite the youthful sunshine
with flaming ash in the air.

please be quiet - you're neither
the hysterical patient, nor
one who needs the normalising
medicine - you would not wish.
it is growing on me, much like
a generous parasite.

there are days where I worry I have done nothing but tangle myself in regrets
I keep writing poems about my past hoping to cleanse it out of my system
because most days I feel more shame than growth and I forget what all of the rain was for
I was almost better, but almost doesn't count for much
I'm tired of watching the sun rise and fall from the same place hoping somone will save me from myself
my thoughts are so loud I'm burying myself in them
but something inside of me has survived all of the suffering and still wants to carry on
something in me knows that this is not the end

For all my life I’ve been a woman obsessed
With taking up as little space as possible
To shrink my waist
And sink my cheeks

I’ve been a woman obsessed
With being heard as little as possible
To bite my tongue and not interrupt
To keep the ******* curse words in

I’ve been a woman obsessed
With winning the hearts of others
To see the twinkle in their eye when they smile at me

But I am thick, and I am loud, and I forgot to love myself.

i prefer to have them watch me
its better than them not to notice
now do you understand
the short shirts and ***** shorts
see through tops show bras with no underwire
eyebrows filled in and lips filled with lip liner
ive become unaware of my volume
speaking loud enough to show my power
why should i hide
wanting to make a hero i made a monster at the same time
the names labeling me are more than likely true
i don't fear the looks they give
they almost fuel me to stand taller and show a bit more
say what you must
your words will feed my lust

i no longer find solace
in my solitude because the voices in
my heard are too loud.
                      "your nose is too big"
"you're too fat"

          "you'll never be good enough"

"no one likes you"

"better off dead"

and the office talk begins.

A little boy of shadow
Sitting in carnations
Terrified
Of God’s creations.
A little boy,
Lost and to never be found
Never knew
The voices could be so loud.
The voices that say
“If you stood, the world could be ours.”
But he prefers wishing on stars.
Because his legs are beaten and bruised
And he cannot walk.
But he wishes for someone to help him stand.
And doesn’t make him talk
About the things he wants to say
The things he wants to keep away
For someone who will always stay.

Mushrooms and tiny pops,
Fungus growing deep inside,
Its too much, too loud.