People will look and see.

               I'm too fat for that.
       I'm covered in moles like polkadots.
               I have scars that aren't even a little ****.
       I have too many bones everywhere.
               I don't live up to my own expectations.
                       How could ever I live up to anyone else's?

  My body
     Isn't
   Worth
   Seeing

blue
the colour is always blue
when I want something
when Father won’t answer me
my pillow

my curtains, but they’re swept to the sides and the blinds are up
the sky is white
I’ve never seen the sky so white
it looks sick
the branches look violent, like they are deprived of attention
everything looks sick

that tree I can see, means so much to me
when I feel something, I pretend it is feeling the same thing
like impatient the other day, it must’ve been too
with no leaves come past springtime
it makes me blue

the colour is always blue
when I’m in love
blankets
sometimes my eyes
when I ask Father to dinner tonight or lunch tomorrow and he replies
“maybe Wednesday, not sure”
blue is the cover of the book of poetry I had written
and abandoned
blue is sadness
blue is the colour of giving up
sometimes hope

blue is the colour of people’s hair in my nightmares, when I get so frustrated their hair isn’t brown or blonde and I try so hard to change it,
it’s always going to be blue
and I wake up from thinking too much

most of my wardrobe
polkadots and stripes
shades on my canvases
I use blue
like it’s mine
like it’s me

my favourite colour is blue
it has always been blue

The moon consists of holes
deep black pits
of emptiness.
It consists of darkness,
yet it is our only source of light at night.

Everyone is sleeping
the TV downstairs
has been silent for hours
the stairs are no longer screeching
screaming
under the weight of humans mounting it.

As I turn and turn
I wonder if I’m the only one awake right now
I wonder what the others that are awake are doing.
Knowing I won’t be getting any sleep
at least not tonight,
I wonder if I’m the only one
… it sure does feel like it.

But being awake at this time
is not always a bad thing.
I like to walk the street at times like this
feel like the only person on this planet.

The night is beautiful
stars hover over us day after day
we never thank them for being there
and being beautiful
but they’re always there.
They remind me of the polkadots
on the dress I used to wear when I was five.

The night sky is mysterious
yet beautiful
it is endless
and holds so many secrets.

As I take in the magnificent silence,
I start to think.
That this all,
the moon,
the stars,
the night sky,
the silence,
they’re all beautiful.

And it is sad that there’s so few people awake to see it.

Slouched on the bed, legs bent up,
The laptop face beaming.
I just gaze at the screen.
This emotionless laid-back stance makes me think
I'm fresh out of a bath, hair wet,
How relaxed my body feels still.
The heat filled my body like that cup
Of jasmine green tea on my bedside.
Curls are forming at the bottom of my hair;
As they always tend to.
I sit here, no thrill.
As I was en route home,
I had the breeze lashing on my skin,
The wind and the spitting rain,
Splattering on my coat.
It normally creates an illusion of polkadots,
And makeup blackens my cheeks.
I squint to see,
Somehow I prefer this feeling.
Exhilaratingly breathless,
Uplifted and exhausted.
But yet, I am sat here.
Glaring into a screen.

Little foot steps
Walking across the crowded streets
Black and white polkadots
Barely know where she's heading
Little does she know
Smell of tuberose
Has caught someones attention
Vanilla and Brownie
Are just someone's cup of tea
Yet she's dreaming
Roaming around
Walking to the east
Falling to the ground
Watching sunsets
With her eyes closed

A shrew among the mice
A salamander among the lizards
Something so small
Yet so different
Hiding among them

People walk past
Not noticing the little creature
Walking among them
Almost trampled
Dodging the pillars of flesh and bone
Covering itself in strange fabrics
Silk, cotton, polyester,
Stripes, polkadots, plad,
Tassels, ribbons,
Until only they are visible
And at long last,
It is seen.
But, not for what it truly is

A coqui among the bullfrogs
A turtle among the tortoises
Almost unnoticed…

But then
A thread is pulled
The fabric unwinds
A small, unusual creature is revealed
Far, far beneath the textiles;
A misfit

- Jay M
September 23rd, 2019

Did fate find you?
Melancholy
Sun dress
Polkadots and depressed
Have a happy, I'm offering
Spilling skin connected guessing
Have I impressed you little ray?
Grey clouds parted
Dope house
Have you changed your mind my fine climb?
Don't get me started
Keeper

Help!
There's a man standing in the mirror
He's got a mean grin
And a dorsal fin,
Blue tentacles
And cruel eyes
Though I don't know why he cries.

He has pointy ears, and horns of lead.
My haircut sits upon his horned head
Black hooves lead up to furry legs
Wrapped in my good skirt!
He's in my nice shirt!
(You know it, the one with the polkadots)
.
.
.
Must admit though, I'm looking pretty hot.