The tide is back in my head again.
The bottles are full, the floor is still an ocean,
And I am drunk-texting a future version of myself.
I'm telling myself about this certain type of forgiveness-
The version I tried to suppress everytime you couldn't accept it.
I gave you nothing for so long I thought you'd fall in love with at least re-opening the non-existent wounds,
And now here you are painting scars upon them and showing them to me,
And I don't know what to do and,
I'll never know what to do but,
This is where it ends,
Yes,
This is how I leave you.

The tide is back in my head again.
- I only leave you when the room is spinning.
My head is a confession booth and its like you're sinning on purpose.
Continually hurting yourself or someone else so that you can come into my memories and
try and tell me about it without saying anything at all. (I only listen to you when you're not speaking.)
I started believing in ghosts when I saw apparitions of myself smiling without knowing you existed-
I once lived with a fear of death, prayed to be immortal and to keep on finding myself hungry to know more-
Now I find myself lucky to have a day where I care more about continuing and care less about remaining stationary.
Maybe I want you to feel the pain of a sunken ship only mimicking the illusion of a boat cast on waves it no longer wants or knows how to sail-
Maybe I want you to know how it feels like to love you.

The tide is back in my head again.
I created a soundtrack for all these recent nights and it just turned into the sound of your voice repeating the secrets I dont remember telling you.
There is a drawer in my room and I've filled it with something that both creates and destroys me because
you claimed you would do both but only ended up doing the latter.
One day I'll stop being haunted by things that can't actually touch me -
One day I'll find a bottle that won't have you at the bottom of it.
But for now I have nothing else.
So, I'm poisoning myself everynight and claiming that it is self-mortification.
I cannot forgive myself but,
I have no other outlet so,
This is where it ends,
Yes,
This is how I leave you.

They said that all that glittered was not always gold
And even your star-struck eyes couldn't be sold
for much of a profit; we were worth a little bit too much
even if half of us couldn't be bothered to give a

piece of the soul to the great big unknown
so you danced to the music and stayed within your zone
but your hips didn't quite move and your behind didn't quite shake
Exam season had you thinking that the last turn-up was a mistake

So you turn't down for everything to become a Top Achiever
and gave your soul to Cambridge because it's clear that you're a dreamer
And that's why your eyes became so suddenly star struck
And how suddenly a past paper was worth a little bit too much

But it was worth it because

Even if one year of your life passed you by...
Even if one year of your life passed you by...
Even if one year of your life passed you by....

...You still wrote your candidate number in sneakers looking fly.

So even though not all of us can become an A*
That doesn't mean that not all of us in life cannot go far
As written in the constellations are the particles of our star-dust
the whole is more than the sum of its parts and so are you my little star-struck

former IGCSE candidate.
See? You really were able to manage it.

The eighth deadly sin is co-existence.

That is what the bible forgot to tell us.
There are scriptures of love, connotations
Of how the heart works and how it beats and what forces
It to start and stop but,
none of them explain what it goes through, when
It beats for another human being.

The arteries from the heart in a hand do not only carry blood,
But also, thoughts as fugitives of elegance which
need to be released.
The structure within them carries itself within each existent-form
On earth, and veins and arteries were made to be intoxicated
By the supplies of it in the form of what their minds choose not to remember.
It was made that way by the antagonist of memory, and
the screen on which it is displayed onto becomes eternally shattered by its strength of other loved analgesics.
Within the shards of the shattered screen is a motivation of malice,
That expresses ******* within the blood as it is circulated around of the body.

When the empathetic assemblance of the sharpness in
Both the blood plasma and the glass shards become
Heightened by the knowledge of an instigating love for illness,
It is too late for the body to blame it on anything but the contents
Of its own mind.
Eventually the walls of each blood supply will transform into thin layers of restriction,
That allow everything in,
but nothing out.

Poison is planning, and self-infection is the key to only replicating happiness.
So because of this,
whenever a man holds a human heart in the creases of his palm,
He has no choice but to bleed on it as well.

This is not for anyone else but himself...
I have learnt that today.

I write love letters
to the oxygen in your lungs
and give thanks
to the trees who allow you to breathe

what a blessing it is
to exist alongside you.

-hw

A letter to my Tourettes

Dear Tourettes Syndrome;

I was diagnosed with you as a child.
I would try to hide you, but it failed.
You bruised my wrists and shoulders,
You made my palms red.
You caused me pain.

Kids would point and laugh, because they didn't understand,
You were the cause of my bullying.
How could you do this to me?
I didn't choose nor want you,
But I learned to deal with you.

You expected to be loved.
But I don't know how I feel.
Maybe I love you,
Or maybe I HATE YOU.
You hurt me physically and emotionally,
How could I love you?

It's funny through all the pain,
You stayed.
It's not your fault,
I was made and you were just another part of me.

I was ashamed of you,
You were a disgrace.
But as I said you are a part of me.
And I have accepted you,
Although I don't always like you,
I'm proud of you.
Despite the pain,
I want you to stay forever.

- StefC

The distance between lands
Can be traversed with ease
Bridging the distant hearts
Takes trust and love
Been miles apart for long
Time for love to travel
And unite
Two beautiful hearts

Some lust after, some fear
some don't consider the inevitable and the unclear

I can't surrender to an existence so mere
without questioning life on this sphere

And then I thought that
those big, endless dark spaces
between the stars in the night sky
had to mean Something

besides

how much nothing is in
Nothing.