Sometimes,
When I am with my demons or angels,
and drowning alone in silence,
I find solace in my inauspicious life.

Sometimes,
Solitude is the only place
where I can remain contemplative,
as thoughts freely flow within my mind.

Sometimes,
There is beauty in quiet introspection,
my unvoiced passions are never denied,
but must I remain unloved, as time slowly slips by?

Is my mind merely irresolute?
Torn into pieces by ambivalent thought,
at war with itself, until reason intervenes...

and then I begin to write.

©️Lizzie Bevis

A blank page blinks
Begging words to appear
I can't seem to think
Months lapse into years

Shake the ink from the pen
Alchemy art from grieving
Change a loss to a win
Turn that mill for demons

Crank out another liter
'Til the pump's run dry
Claw up one last meter
Over that ****'s the sky

i have words inside of me
and i can’t say
any of them.
i don’t even know
what they are.
what happened to my voice?
it feels like it’s been a while
since i had something to say.
living underwater, living like a corpse.
i wake up and then go back to sleep
because “awake” is not “autopilot”.

why am i so tired?

My epiphanies never last
Rising and popping like bubbles in a glass
Frequently falling flat
No real form for all their fizz.

You see, the water does all the things it’s meant to.
It does everything and nothing
It goes everywhere and nowhere.

Its essence is dichotomies and dualities
The shores line its gentle brutality
Infinite and dangerous - an endless finality
Sometimes still – a lifeless vitality.

The wind can push it
The earth can shake it
To understand this paradox is a risk –
Don’t take it.

A stagnant mind will see you drowned.
Producing these lines, but not a sound.
Words to be written but not to be spoken.
These are the words my soul has chosen.

I'm trying to be bubbly
But my mind it keeps mumbling
Then my stomach starts rumbling
I try to ensure you I'm serious
Yet the words fall from my mouth, delirious

The pen marks the page
Only scribbles remain
Unsure what to do
So I sit in disdain
Need to erase all the pain
Maybe dance in the rain
....
It all conflicts in my brain!

Why can't I write?
Is it in spite?
Was poetry a mere mechanism to cope,
Is there no hope?

Maybe I'm full of it
Nearly at the end of my rope,
How can words express
When I'm not a mess
Outside of the nothingness,
What even is happiness
Still learning, still yearning
Excited for what's next
Maybe that's all it is.