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3.4k · May 2017
Lèse-majesté
Lot May 2017
Every queen must have a throne,
but mine is cheap and flimsy.
A plastic chair made in China,
worth less than a dollar,
swaying under my weight.
To stay from falling,
whenever I sit,
I keep myself light and fit.
I stay perched in reticence,
balancing the paper crown
upon my jaded head.
As tendrils of brown hair,
fall to the floor in plain.
Hands and feet crossed,
bound in leather and chains.
Try not to be your own worst enemy.
3.0k · May 2017
Murk
Lot May 2017
I am there too.
Where I can see them, feel them breathing.
In and out.
Fluid and with ease.
Bubbles of air escape from their mouths,
playful and free.
Oblivious to the murk that is me...
1.2k · May 2019
Mystic Breath
Lot May 2019
Smoke dances around me,
clouding the room in a mystic breath,
it hangs from my lips like the veil that sits upon a bride’s jeweled head,
it flows through the air with nimble grace only to vanish into space,
ascending to the heavens where I can never reach,
it’s only lasting trace sits heavily beneath my teeth,
a sweet but acrid kiss that escapes in breathless fear,
rotting flowers fill my lungs with their dying drear,
constricting my voice with lasting vice,
till I’m choking up petals of addictive bliss.
Late night thoughts...
985 · Mar 2019
China Doll
Lot Mar 2019
Porcelain white is painted polite.
Grown-up to be perfect, and pretty in lace.
Long shiny hair ******* with a bow.
A beautiful pro at hiding her woe.
Dressed to the nines with diamonds that shine,
to blind those from seeing her broken design.
Her body a shrine all knotted with twine.
Privileged, and coddled.
Loved, and swaddled.
Prepped for ascension,
despite the fine lines that grow in her spine.
Cracks in the porcelain, rigid and sly,
grow bigger with rigour as time flies by.
One more bawl and she’ll break above all.
I am a china doll, would you like to see me fall?
Inspired by Lana Del Rey's song "Without You", as well as my own 'snowplow' parents.
941 · Apr 2017
Watercolours
Lot Apr 2017
The world is an ocean
Thick and raging waves
With shoals of people
Rainbows of colour
Beautiful to see and hear
Sad they don’t all get along
Their colours combined would amaze
Salted spray, cracked lips and sore throats
They talk through the ache anyway
Gallons of water never to drink
There are no tears in the sea to blink
704 · Jul 2019
Austere
Lot Jul 2019
I need someone to hold me near when things inside get too austere.

But, who would want to fill that role when I for one am much too cold?

Some have tried to fix this hole, but all have ended up in my stranglehold.

It seems that the gods enjoy quiet malice when looking down on my calloused gladness.

Why do I seek out love and life, when I tend to cut them loose with a carving knife?

What better way to spend my free time than with rhyming and cursing the time and what's mine.
679 · Oct 2018
Anosognosia.
Lot Oct 2018
The goddess wakes,
with purple nails and brittle scales.
She stands,
Knobbly knees like hairy trees outstretched against their seams.
Her steps veer,
Joint’s scream while needs poison her bloodstream.
Her reflection gleams,
There’s something vile about her denial.
She sees,
through a screen but the fog won’t clear.
Blind to her sunken cheeks and pale lips,
to the knives jutting from her back,
that leave bruises like inkblot fiends.
She doesn’t mind,
The constant shakes and extreme regimes.
She smiles,
Don’t worry it’s just a lifestyle.
678 · Apr 2019
Overlooked
Lot Apr 2019
No one cares if you are falling,
as long as you are still flying.
Will you watch me hit the ground?
574 · May 2017
Honey
Lot May 2017
When I was young,
honey was my favourite treat.
I would do anything for a taste of that liquid gold.
Good or bad,
ugly or clean,
your way or mine,
I’d do it.
At the time my mother laughed,
she thought I was sweet.
Just like my favourite honey treat.
Strangely,
times change and people change,
childish was my new name.
522 · Nov 2017
Silly Girl
Lot Nov 2017
Silly girl, words can’t end wars.
I have always been a silly girl.
I like to laugh, smile,
and entertain those around me.
I put people at ease,
just with the fluidity of my words.
Though, If angered or hurt,
my words are quick to sharpen.
They are my friends,
there to defend me until the end.
They are my suit of armour,
prepared for any battle that may come my way.
Yet, no suit of armour can always save the day.
470 · Mar 2019
Dream
Lot Mar 2019
I dream in morphine,
scream for the guillotine,
as the unforeseen seems too obscene.

I dream extreme,
fire in my bloodstream,
too headstrong to belong.

I dream for sunbeams,
to quiet the melancholic theme,
punishment it seems.

I dream for moonbeams,
a healing grace upon my face,
a mother’s gentle embrace.

I dream for peace,
a place among the human race,
without my diseaseful anguish.

I dream to be seen,
for who I am and not my defeat,
a need to please but feel at ease.
468 · Mar 2019
Drain - Haiku
Lot Mar 2019
Red and white vivid
The colours swirl together
Down the kitchen drain
448 · Apr 2017
Deafening Enjoyed
Lot Apr 2017
A void
Too fragile
Thus easily destroyed
Invisible glass
It surrounds us
Bulletproof truss
A harrowed scream
Loud it seems
Vibrating dream
Unheard theme
Mainstream screen
Disappearing sneer
Silent voiced
Fear
Just some recent musing on free speech.
433 · Aug 2017
Anything at all
Lot Aug 2017
I can feel my teeth,
Grinding against my lips
Pale and dry
Flaking between each drag

I can feel my hair,
Long and damaged
Swaying against my knotted neck
Hear the quiet swoosh

I can feel each breath I take,
Cold air rushing in
Fills charred lungs
Only to leave in urgency
Dancing in the stagnant room

I can feel my shaking hands
I can feel my swirling thoughts
I can feel the sharpness of the blade
I can feel the sting of friction

So, then…

Why can’t I feel anything at all?
347 · Feb 2018
Empty-hander
Lot Feb 2018
Is it emulation or imitation?
Don’t both equal copy and paste?
But a cookie-cutter dream gets hard to be,
especially out at sea
I gasp and splash,
but my system crashed
So I try to pass and grasp,
but sink further from the grass
I am an iron anchor upon the seafloor,
shedding flakes of red rust,
just left to be an empty husk
The harsh salt water: my liquid brander
Conformity leaves me an empty-hander
I always seem to be going through a rough patch in my life, trying to keep up all of my masks doesn't help.
279 · Dec 2018
Life's Like...
Lot Dec 2018
Every day is like a choo-choo train.
Or maybe, I just like following the tracks.
One day the way’s all clear.
Another, I don’t jump in time.

Some people like to compare life to a rollercoaster,
But mine is much too dull for such a saying.
Scared to get on the ride,
but scared to stay away.
I love being afraid of everything.
250 · Jun 2019
Dirty Pier
Lot Jun 2019
I made a choice to let him near my private island by the pier
Before the water would shine so clear
But he let the currents swim with fear
The atmosphere turned dark and drear
With tides that move with painful blear
He stained my ocean and smeared my cheer
Left my beach polluted and my breeze veer
Where I'm left kneedeep by his rotten cohere
Now my choice remains very unclear
240 · Dec 2018
Packing Peanuts
Lot Dec 2018
It has come to my attention that packing peanuts and unhappiness are one and the same.
But how is that so?
Well, it’s because they both seem to infiltrate everything, and have a knack for sticking to every little nook and cranny in life.
Problems seem to create excess static electricity, attracting all sorts of consequences.
Rumination helps me create weird analogies.
236 · May 2019
Hands
Lot May 2019
Hands like bodies,
rough and calloused,
smooth and soft,
freckled knuckles,
blemished palms,
with cuts and scars littered like stars,
short and stubby or long and thin,
different skins and many strings.

Despite their difference,
they share the same sins,
capable of giving gifts,
but also skilled in petty theft.

Warm and kind caresses,
bruised and ****** stresses,
a gentle yet expressive message,
fingers trail like searing fire upon wry shaking lips.
Everything has duality. Even small things.
223 · Mar 2019
Despondent - Haiku
Lot Mar 2019
Despondency cloaks
Like how fondant blankets cake
I hate fondant’s taste
190 · Jun 2019
Now I Know
Lot Jun 2019
I now know the truth,
the lie that festered in my mind,
brought to light through my eye,
that life is full of nigh,
of questions which remain unanswered,
and prayers with no reply

A life which lacks accommodation,
that thirsts for chaos and causation,
the universe with no remorse,
feeds happily on our life force,
we reach out for succour yet are met with not an utter

The nature of the world we know stays messy and obscure,
we endure the daily war of terror and eyesore,
searching for an inner peace we know we cannot reach

And unfortunately for me,
there is no escape from what you come to know
148 · May 2019
Ashes
Lot May 2019
My body is the urn that holds my ashes.
No matter how I change its shape and design,
its purpose stays the same.
Can you set me free of this decay?
134 · Jan 2019
In Between
Lot Jan 2019
When I open my eyes,
the world comes undone
What do I see? How do I know?
If the space in front of me is actual

The clock on the wall measures in tic and toc,
but what about all of the space in between?
The place where dreams exceed and monsters feed
The true birthplace of the human race
A chaotic embrace we try to disgrace
As time we say, should know its place

I’d love to scream, would that seem real?
To escape my chains and flee the pain
No longer restrained in the structural day
Away from the eyes that peer through the window frame

No, I’m not zoning out,
just planning a breakout
131 · Oct 2019
Big Sink
Lot Oct 2019
Whoosh, there goes my heart,
down into my chest
Whoosh, there goes my stomach,
sinking to the earth
Whoosh, there goes my steady knees,
shaking like a tree,
Whoosh, there goes my bated breath,
carried by a breeze
The big sink is always there when you care to think
Anxiety? Who's she?

— The End —