Take four and make mistakes, wake in the morning to check that your fingers are attached to the undeniable spot where your hands end. Watch the clock in case it stops; Dislodge the plaque behind your gums and scream in silence at reflection-you. Tick tock. Script the helix and watch it spiral, dipped in mothers’ milk, everyone, gather round for the epiphany T-minus twelve days. Creation calls. Victor Frankenstein here? Making something other than history, constriction in the surgical instruments. The fate you are going to meet is going to be so beautiful for everyone else. You are going to scream. You know, a lot of this is about birth. Through these broken walls I hope you realise that everything here is supposed to create life. Even the mistakes. Someday I’ll write a love letter to Rosalind Elsie Franklin, like the ones strewn about my bedroom, where I tell her about my day and ask if she would like to stir sugar into tea with me and call it a case study into romantics. Now, pick your metaphor and run with it, show me how exactly you’re supposed to be reading this. And when you find the answer, let me know. Welcome to the beginning.
From a collection of poetry I wrote for a creative writing portfolio in second year of university, titled 'Spiral'.
writing spiral I'm writing the spiral I'm on my paper drawing my pencil I am on my paper and I'm drawing my pencil as all these faces that I see are just not adding up into anything I want to be or anywhere I want to go and no matter what you say I will never endorse it back to the life that takes your soul and make it go away
an abstract poem on my insecurities about writing poetry, lyrics, or just creating art in general.
It's a fascinating experience indeed To know you're unbalanced To know there's something wrong To be really very confident and to have red flags waving But people are easily fooled So you enjoy your high Knowing you should listen to your therapist Knowing she's absolutely right to worry Knowing you'll disregard every one of her warnings Knowing you'll lie over and over again Because you want to be free From the ******* of the pills You just have to know If they're what's ****** you up
Have you ever watched bipolar disorder set into someone? It's frightening and thrilling.
A picture hanging on the wall, a desk and two black curtains falling down to the floor; The full moon hides behind rainbow clouds, stories of that yesterdays' sun written metal sounds and two drops of heavy dew.
... Sighs ...
I was circling your thoughts, they were mine to wonder about and make them shine all the way through the spirals of our times.
... wishful sighs ...
A picture hanging on the wall, a flower on the desk, two black curtains falling down and up the full moon staring... An almost hidden by rainbow clouds love for that yesterdays' sun...
The two drops of heavy dew are reflecting into the floor.
I tire of seeing what I desire taunt me just out of reach. Many a number of dreams while I slumber push me into the breach. Feelings of dread from the thoughts in my head, unable to send them aloft. My mind it wanes from internal pains and visions I cannot throw off. Inwards I spiral towards total denial of emotions that seem to propel. So slow I do creep, the pain it runs deep, traveling towards unending hell. Exhausted I lay, my head in dismay, begging for it to all end. When will I know? Time, it runs slow, can someone just be a friend?