You're hurting. You're hurting bad.
I can see it in your bloodshot eyes
And how you shy away from smiles
Directed at you. Now your once-had
Gleaming spirit dwindles as it tries
To cut its pain with bleak exile.

But blood is pumping through your veins -
Don't change its course with nails or steel.
Our love for you will never fade, though
You ask me what I'd do if somone else took hold your reins
And replaced you, thinking that would make us feel
Happier - without you? Never. No.

I feel anger and frustration because I'm only human,
But nothing on this planet makes me happy like you can.
I love you, you know that. Believe that in yourself.
So stay with me - you'll be with me,
a heart within myself.

I won't say I'm bipolar because I'm
permanently enduring unstable.

Internal convulsions occur when I
stare
    stare
        stare
at that body that people tell me is beautiful,
but all I can comprehend is that slab of undesired waste
piled up on that heap of toxic reoccurences
that I am too cowardly to face.

Why must a heart beat?

To keep a rhythmic marching time through life?
That common tempo keeping order in
our lawless world of hate and fear death.
Each heartbeat rallies troops across the globe,
a single feature shared in every life,
an army built on spirit, crying out
with every thump that we are one.

But what must hearts beat for?

To beat we mean to say 'to fight,'
and for what better cause to fight than love?
That painful pleasure wielding power both
to wreck lives and create them,
the strength it gives to those from whom it stole in battles past.
Enamoured and encased in armour,
steeled against the pain before
as drums beat faster
palms grow sweaty
the tempo quickens
gazes steady
you brace and lean in
gently
and surrender to his kiss
as he gives in to yours,
your battle won by both
as both your drums keep time in perfect synchrony
your breaths the perfect melody that keep
the perfect peace.

A heart that beat
in tempered time
but skipped-

tripped up
and fell on you.

An inkblot tarnish that bleeds through sheets
of work, an all-consuming blackness that eats
through my morale like acid through a petal,

that slow and steady browning tainting
the pure white of that spotless rose,
imperfect now, and damaged,

the bruise that seeps across capillaries
of hope until all thought of life is tender
and sore to touch,

false colours marking things that shouldn't be,
my failure marked in bold for me to see.

A poet writes upon the heart
and sings among the shining stars,
each scribble painting portraits vast
as each mind hums and wanders past
their secret dreams and battle scars,
and turns thoughts into glorious art.

I watch the raindrops dance again,
out here in gentle quietness.
They wash away my salty tears
and offer me forgiveness.
I dance with them barefoot among
the falling leaves of Autumn's kiss,
each raindrop leaving trails upon
my skin, so tracing rays of bliss.
They patter on the gasping ground,
their healing sings a soothing rush.
As evening falls, their lullaby
brings soft a tender hush.

Lord, raise my hands and guide my feet,
let me another pathway meet.
Conceal my pain and break my fast,
Lord, light the dark that eats my past.
And when I trip, Lord, help me stand;
pray, hold me in your loving hand.
Have mercy on my faithless heart
and show me kindness as I start
to walk the way you've made for me;
release my chains, Lord, set me free.

Dear Generation X,
Please take a step or fifteen back,
if that is what it takes to make you see
that some of you are thoroughly misjudging me.

Dear Generation X,
Please stop sh-tting on me when you
see me in a low-paid job because you
think that I'm uneducated, when in fact I'm
earning my own money to help fund my education.

Dear Generation X,
Please don't patronise me every
time I raise my voice with an opinion
of my own, prepared to eloquently argue
up against others more than twice my age, restraining my
own temper so that I remain polite, whilst condescendingly
you reply with "you're a little brat" who should "f-ck off and find her manners."

Dear Generation X,
Please refrain from moaning about
how the youth of today's generation
never have anything intelligent to say
when you place gags in our mouths, or that we're all too thick-skulled
and should go back to school, whilst simultaneously shouting at
us all to "get a job" and "buy a house", when many of us are drowning
in student loans, granted for gaining the knowledge needed to bag a "decent job."

Dear Generation X,
Stop trapping me.

Grown adults can act
like poor, sad, childish bullies
sat behind a screen.

She flickers softly, hoping that
no one will see her glowing.
So every day I watch her simmer
on, instead of growing.

This tiny spark that warms my heart
each time I catch her beaming,
her dimpled smiles and catchy laughs,
the murmurs as she's dreaming.

A lantern for my darkest days;
So willingly she came.
So now I need to feed her light
and save my little flame.

There.*
That look of disbelief.
But yes, I am. So I'll be brief:
I am an actress.

"What?"
I know, I'm really not the kind
of girl that quickly springs to mind
when people think of those inclined to say
"I am an actress."

"But..."
I'm quiet, self-reserved and shy,
that girl who never seems to cry,
the one who never meets your eye, but yes,
I am an actress.

"How?"
Because you think this mind of mine
is great, that I am sitting on cloud nine.
For though these mangled thoughts creep up my spine,
You seem to think my life is fine,
so whilst my sun appears to shine,
I am, indeed, an actress.

An angel sits above my head
and spreads her gentle wings over
my tormented and tireless dreams. 
The battleground that is my bed
she calmly silences, her
kisses cooling stifled screams.

My angel knows my dark inside,
for she was with me from the start.
How fitting is the irony;
She was the me I tried to hide.
But something changed within my heart,
and now my demon saves me.

Look at me.

An invitation that demands.
A clenched fist paired with open hands.
Now what I ask of you is far more great
than casting gazes over faces.
No. I invite your soul to look in mine;
A true communion slighting wine.
I want to know your joy and pain,
feel tear drops fall like gentle rain.
I need to see your secret smiles,
take comfort in your cheers or trials.
These seconds, drawing out like years.
We live through all our darkest fears,
intricately, intimately, bound with breath.
Each heartbeat sounds the death of death
as I look into you, and you in me,
gaining strength from strength at what we see.
For eyes, they say, are mirrors to the soul,
and your eyes reflect my heart whole.

Deep and earthy scents,
moss pillows and tree-root beds,
rocks my stable base.

Gentle breezes, kiss
my face and promise peace, and
whisper me to sleep.

Water gently laps
against my feet and now I
know that I'm at peace.

Your apathy walks atop my broken faith with
nonchalant animosity.

We care more about
aesthetic obsession than
matters of the heart.

A child is our ancient world's greatest gift.
So ignorant to ignorance they drift
through life, not seeing why we war or how
we hate the heartbeat of our life, but now
we try to stifle 'childish fantasy',
not seeing peace on Earth as they can see.

A child can make an instant, lifelong friend,
a common name or age will make them spend
their years together, joined at hip and heart,
each whispered secret promising the start
of stronger bonds and brighter days,
each hand in hand, traversing life's black maze.

A child may fight you over something small,
they kick and scream and bite and swipe, but all
their conflicts can be solved with one embrace,
forgiveness instant, smiles now back in place.
No secret sourness stored within their soul,
all faults forgotten; friendships, morals whole.

A child will speak with honesty profound;
the truths they speak to you are not yet bound
by pressures of society to lie
to save themselves - the words they speak will fly
through clouds of foggy falsehoods, set you free,
and open up your eyes to let you see
     just what you are, and what you've done,
and what monstrosity you could become
if you insist on murdering their world,
for it is worth its fragile weight in gold.
Ironically, materialism tries
to **** their tender, unpolluted lives:

"It's time that you grew up. You're not a child.
Don't let these frightful fancies grow so wild.
You've got to get a job and earn
your own money, quite soon you'll learn
the adult world is not so nice; no second chance,
so wake up from this stupid, silly trance.
     No time to idly sit and daydream dear.
It's time we got this situation clear:
a life of student loans and debts await.
Your choices now affect your life-long fate.
Bad grades, you say? Well, that's so awfully sad.
But don't expect our help. You'll only add
     to costs it takes to get you lot in work.
Although, those grades will only make this worse.
Who wants to hire a failure? No one does.
So get it right first time, my pet, because
you'll be ignored and shunned and judged, although
we'll masquerade, and claim we care or know."

But what if I don't want to choose this way?
I've got a voice, but you won't hear me say
that I don't want to live my life like this.
The future you have carved for me, your bliss,
is hell for me. Why can't you realise?
This world looks better through a child's eyes.

Wake up and smell the stench you made
again, you ****** it up again.
Self deprecating, grating shame
surrounds your stupid, childish hope
that you could live in love again.
      That crushing disappointment fills
the eyes and hearts of those around
and grabs your gut and wraps it round
your beaten, broken promises
in faith and fancy cruelly drowned.
     What fooled you into thinking that
redemption was within your reach?
Who made your mindless mind so each
and every time you try to speak
you **** all over verbal bleach,
      a choking stink that makes them retch
and run from you, the grody glitch,
the thoughtless, soulless, brutish *****
that bites each hand of human help
and digs her deeper, darker ditch.

Introversion gives
inspiration to conjure
pictures from the soul.

The finest mist of rain falls down
upon a grassy hilltop crest.
Far in the East, the sun is born
and gently wakes the world at rest.

A silhouetted oak stands tall,
its twisted branches hug the sky;
Beneath its bough I rest my feet
and listen to the Spring breeze sigh.

And at my side there sits a stone,
a single slab of charcoal slate
which marks the spot where once we sat
and through the sky watched comets skate.

"As Summer turns to Fall, my dear,"
you'd say, "all good things have to end."
But here I'll sit and dream with you,
my tender, dear departed friend.

Whilst rain may beat upon this drowning earth
and flood our minds with misery and pain,
a pale sun breaks her way out from the clouds
and gives us hope of life in light again.

For where her rays meet with dark clouds of doom
that thunder thoughts of hate on those below,
their bigotry begins to break away,
and our true shining colours show.

Forgotten flame within my heart,
I pray you now burn bright.
Regain that spark that once was lost,
Live once again this night.

Burn deep within my soul once more,
Ignite my world anew,
Then flicker softly, light my way
And shine on someone new.

She fell back from her pack whilst the snow was still new,
She showed me her soul, I saw something I knew.

I am the loyalty, care and the love for my pack,
The warmth I can share in the cold nights of black.
I am the mother and sister and guard to protect
The heart and the home and the family perfect.

I am the scare and the scar and the snarl in the snow,
The hunt and the hound and the chasing the doe,
I am the fight to survive in a world full of fear,
But illusive, and timid, and as shy as the deer.

So I waited for her to slip into my mind,
But she padded away, leaving paw-prints behind.

O, howled the wolf up to the starless sky,
His pain as crisp as freshly fallen snow.
The sparkle left his burning amber eye,
for she had left him pining down below.

The wind caressed him coldly, planted cool
kisses of ice upon his frosty face,
but he was nothing but a lover's fool,
and waited once again for her embrace.

For jealous Winter stole her from his gaze,
and held her closely in his clutch of cloud.
Though chill had tried to quench his heart ablaze,
his song rang out among the mountains loud:

"My love is blind, and yet my love is true,
as here I save my last heart beat for you!"

I will be here, but I won't be here always,
You can't sit and grieve for the person you were.
I can't sit and soothe 'till the day that I die;
Only you can help you to get better.

I'm not in your head; I can't do it for you.
You need to wake up from this trance - please just stop.
I can't wave a wand and fix all your problems.
Only you can help you pick that chin up.

I don't see your issue; it can't be that hard.
All that you're doing is seeking attention.
This has to stop now. It has gone on too long.
Only you can help you ease this tension.

*I'm trying, I am, but it's not so simple.
If only you'd see life from my point of view.
I'm fighting so hard, but I'm failing alone.
I just cannot get better without you.

Easier to wound
than to accept that you are
hurting deep within.

Let the whole world stare;
They do not know who you are.
You are beautiful.

Inhale, take a breath.
Feel the world around you buzz.
This is who you are.

Many Jack does come-a here
in bat-light hours stumble far.
How you wander here then, Jack?
Not follow misty guiding star?

Jack all alone in darkling woods.
Why Jack elf so alone?
No Jill elf keep-a company?
Be Jack elf never Jill elf known?

Why Jack be looking sad, Jack elf?
Jack know not way to go?
What be you in your hand, Jack elf?
Why dew from eyelets flow?

Jack come with me, me know what way.
Me play-a Jack a song!
Me keep-a Jack in heart and mind!
With me Jack elf belong!

I looked at him softly, placed my hands on his face,
and just for a moment, saw myself in his place.

I am the power and grace and the beauty you see,
The strength to serve you, yet the will to be free.
I am the gentleness, soft snorts and deep eyes of brown,
But the passion and prowess and pawing the ground.

I am the race and the fight and the wanting to win,
The muscle and sweat drops and glistening skin.
I am the step and the kick and the gleam and the pride,
But a bond and a boot and a stick in my stride.

I reached out to him, to bring him back home,
But he fought and he fled, so I turned tail, alone.

Tell me,
What do you see when you look at me?
Does this look healthy to you?

I am
At my breaking point. I have no
way of coping with this.
All I think about
day in, day out, is about
how
whether I am going to fail.

I can't fail. I have been brainwashed into
I have been told since I was
very young that I need these to be happy.
I am not happy.

This is a system rigged against me
against us
against people who cannot
control
People who cannot stay calm.
People like me
are falling
drowning in expectation
fear of failing
a fear of the future.

Call me lazy.
You may call me lazy
but I am so exhausted.
Working part time
revising
panicking because this is my everything.
I have no time to be happy
or be productive.
All there is time for is stress
and tears
and I am not happy.

The night is swiftly drawing near.  
Within my heart a stroke of fear.
What world awaits me when I sleep?
What gorgeous terrors my mind keeps
From me until I close my eyes
And leave the waking world behind!

In dreams a false reality:
What gives me strength to let me fly
Past crescent moons, through airy lakes,
And watch the heav’nly light rays break
Through clouds of cotton soaring high
Above the fields of warm July?

This realm I pray to never leave;
Its absence I so sorely grieve
When, more and more, I seem to find
The inner fabric of my mind
Distorting into something base:
My dreams now seem to wear your face.

For no amount of light can ease
The pain from dreams that will not cease.
In sleep, or wakening, I know
Your Devil’s face will always show,
For like a sunset in the East,
You’re like a never-dying Beast.

Arrows tipped with feathers red
Will fill The Devil’s heart with dread.
Feathers at The Devil’s feet
Will mean a devil’s death he’ll meet.

Ten nights he has to change his ways
From hellish acts to brighter days,
Or running he must surely start
Before the feathers pierce his heart.

For once he sees that deadly symbol,
Slow and sure, or quick and nimble,
Steady hand and steady bow
Will freeze him in the blushing snow.

I heard him at first, though barely a sound,
But I saw him, I saw me, on sinister ground.

I am the caution and stillness and sniffing the air,
I am the fearing the danger that’s not even there,
I am the ‘watch where you tread’ and the silence and hush,
The always on lookout, the hardest to touch.

I am the quickness and briskness and swiftness and speed,
I am the flash of a tail and a warning to heed,
I am the bounding and leaping and steam in the woods,
The danger apparent, the fear understood.

And I felt myself crying, for as soft as the breeze,
My beautiful deer melted into the trees.

I was watching him stand in the heat and the flies,
And just for a moment, saw myself in his eyes.

I am the force and the fight and the teeth and the fear,
Whose anger’s scared thousands for thousands of years.
I am the killer, the king, my rule undisputed,
Yet somehow I see my whole kind being hunted,

I am the courage to stand and protect what I know –
My pride will get hurt or destroyed if I don’t –
I am the leader to take us all out of the darkness
But when pushed, I am by far, far from harmless.

I wished him to stay, to never move on,
But before I could welcome him in, he was gone.

They can hurt you
They can raise you
They can blame you
They can praise you

They are honest
They can lie
Make you live
Make you die

Give you peace
Cause a storm
Hard and cold
Soft and warm

You can hurt me and shun me and crush my whole world,
But the things that you can’t take away are my words!

Lo! On the wing of heavy gales,
Through the boundless arch of the sky he sails,
Unspeaking, rapid, immensely strong,
His silent shadow is borne along
By his steeds of fog and cloud and hail,
The earth does shake and the skies do wail.

The skies darken fast, and the golden blaze
Of the sun is quenched in a lurid haze,
Then black, a black of a starless night
When clouds descend and block all light.
I stand, I wait, I hold no fear,
My body poised and my mind is clear.

He is come! He is come! Do ye not behold
His ample robes on the wind unrolled?
How his huge and writhing arms are bent,
To clasp the zone of the firmament,
And fold at length, in their dark embrace,
From mountain to mountain the visible space.

And he sends through the shade a funeral ray—
A glare that is neither night nor day,
A beam that touches, with hues of death,
The clouds above and the earth beneath.
And with the glare comes a heart-wrenching cry,
Solemn, grave and joy deprived.

And with the cry falls fast the tears,
Lashing, bitter, punishing, drear.
His tears the lashing rain that breaks
In torrents away from the airy lakes,
Heavily poured on the shuddering ground,
And shedding a nameless horror round.

Darker—still darker! The whirlwinds bear
The dust of the plains to the middle air:
And hark to the crashing, long and loud,
His agony, high up in the thunder cloud!
A whirling ocean that fills the wall
Of the crystal heaven, and buries all!

I stand, braced ‘gainst his icy breath
And speak, my voice strong – I’ve no fear of death.
“Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh,
I know thy breath in the burning sky!
Calm thy storm, I know thy pain!
I too lost my lover – my heart was enchained!”

“Thy agony is clear, but why dost thou cry?
For can ye not see that before you ‘tis I?
I’ve roamed o’er hill, mountain, valley and glen –
I have searched for too long to lose thee again!
My love! Reach down to the earth and clasp me securely
And united together forever we’ll be!”

Breathing is hard, sometimes,
when you’re trying to keep a rhythm
but you know there’s something hidden down there,
somewhere, but you're too scared to go and see.
You’ll hear me screaming
battle cries
but they’re filled with desperation
so much pain and devastation
Because I’m fighting,
but I’m fighting to be me.

It’s hard to explain when you won’t understand,
though you’ve seen nothing,
I’ve seen it first hand
still
you need to snap me out of this.
Clearly you know better,
I know worse
keep your distance from this curse,
but I hope you’ll listen because
this is how it is:

It’s like being trapped inside,
no escape
world cut off with big red tape,
love for myself
turning into hate.
It’s like wanting to speak,
but the words just die,
bound and chained when you need to fly
take a breath,
no
you suffocate.

It’s like confessing a sin
which you didn’t commit,
deal with the shame that comes with it
you can try and hide it but
it’s fixed to you for life.
It’s like never ever knowing what
they’re going to say and
by being afraid you become their prey,
my life sits on the blade of a knife...

It’s like running for your life
but your legs don’t work
so you’re forced to fight
and you’re forced to hurt
and you know you’ll lose
but you try anyway.
It’s like trying to swim,
but you can’t stop sinking
demons arrive,
but you can’t stop thinking
tearing at your head
JUST STOP
just
...
go away