Homesick

It’s a cold evening in my room,

the air around it still and silent,

like the look in your eyes

and the scoff in your breath.

My insides are quivering

I feel threatened and alone

as if anything and everything I say means nothing

perhaps it doesn’t

perhaps I should want to stay.

Yet I feel homesick

homesick at home

I don’t even live here anymore yet it feels like my life is on the line

I never realised how much people tired me out.

I don’t speak

I shuffle and feel my skin crawl beneath your gaze

there’s the scoff first

then the derogative voice condemning my preferences in film,

and I don’t say a word

it’s like my mouth has been poisoned into muteness

and my face is being held under water

blocking my ears from hearing that condescending voice anymore,

it’s only a muffled sound now

but a sound I won’t forget.

I reach out for help only to have my hand slapped back

no one will listen

no one gives a crap,

I fall back into rank

I collapse like a thousand butterflies lived within my body

they drop dead as they leave,

and I lie there on that godforsaken arctic floor

wondering if these four walls will be the only things to ever hear my breaking voice.

Carved into my hand with acidity of your bruising words

three words I seem to always utter

as if they are a mantra for my life

an excuse for my pitiful existence

a broken vow and a forgotten promise

I’m so sorry

and that’s all they’ll ever hear

apology after apology

but where’s my apology

where’s the apology meant for me?

I’ll never hear it

not from the peat in your mouth

no I think you’d rather die

than apologise honestly to a female,

because that’s all you see in me

another female to belittle

another girl to stamp on

to judge and abuse

but I won’t let these animals inside escape my flowering mouth

no I’ll keep them quiet

I’ll keep me quiet

and I’ll never say another word again.

Surprised

The world is ending around us
No one has noticed
No one has said a word
We're quiet like we're waiting
And the music in the air is the gunshots that spit out their bullets towards us,
I can't say anything
Hell I can barely look at you.,
I don't want you to look into my eyes and figure out what I'm thinking
I haven't looked at you in a while now
Am I in denial?
Or am I simply having a breakdown ?
I wouldn't be surprised
Given all that's happened
Given all these miserable lies,
No I wouldn't be surprised.

Glue

I can only move slowly

like my limbs are stuck in place

and as time passed and I grew older and colder in my heart,

I became the glue that stuck me there in the first place.

The glue that was spread across the edges of a bank white page,

I became its sticky form

smooth in some place and bumpy in others I would hold together their hands

unifying them in a way that separated myself.

I am the open glue that people forget about

without a lid and a safety blanket I dry out quickly

and so my misery spikes when the next person comes along to use me

and then have the audacity to moan about how I’ve dried.

I am the glue that people poke with scissors just to leave a mark

they carve their initials into my skin with rough caresses that hurt so much

then they smooth over the bumpy letters and begin again

their grubby hands clutching at my quivering side, a sense of ownership about them.

But they don’t own me,

not now

not ever

I’ll be your glue, fine,

but only

God damn only

if you’ll be mine.  

Shining brighter than the sun

I’m going to dance in the graveyards

I’m going to cry in the rain

I’m going to suffer through these emotions

in hopes that one day I’ll be smiling again.

You’re going dance with me

you’re going to cry tears of your own,

we’ll suffer together

until these skies clear up and we’ll feel at home.

In the stars we’ll find our fears

and in these clouds our laughter and tears

far away in the suns brilliant glare

a smile, a kind word, a hand linked with hope.

That’ll be home, I think

yes that will be home. 

Exploding Supernovas

I learn to space my days out

based on the way we talk

the way you smile and the way I swoon,

but night passes

and the days grow colder and shorter

but I pass them staring out of the window

or writing words that make no sense to anyone else,

bring me the night

give me less life

feed me more dreams

let me pretend to have a smile for you,

even if I’m dying inside.

I’ll still dance around my room

singing quietly along with the song that cries in my heart,

let’s write a story

one line each

one page at a time,

where’s the sense in writing the last page before the first?

Let’s do this with each gathering breath,

one step at a time,

one naïve mistake that haunts me forever,

there are some days I wish I had that naivety back in my palms,

it might help me bury this doubt away

but I’ve got to let that go,

I’ve got to smile and pretend that everything’s okay,

once you’ve done something for a while it becomes normal.

I can do this

I can be who I am

and you won’t hold me back from that,

I’m an exploding supernova in the everlasting space that surrounds this world,

I am the stars in this galaxy and every other galaxy out there,

my smiles might be fake but my heart isn’t,

I don’t have time for your black and white opinions anymore,

no I’m going to stay in the grey area,

the colourful semi darkness it spreads like a disease in the Milky Way,

I’m doing fine losing my breath running after these comets,

I can barely even see you from behind these shining lights

that fly like fairies past my laughing mouth,

you’re like the ghost of these shadows on my hands

and even though everyone tells me to not wish you the best

I will because honestly,

you deserve to catch the stars too.

Pens and Paper and the Words They Utter

My pen is silver and sharp and my paper is soft and warm.

My words are red and shaky.

We all began as blank canvases,

but the slow ascent into adulthood began to leave its claw marks on this picture.

Imperfections of the skin,

I can’t write the conclusion

and I never was good at endings,

they lie in false hope of someone coming.

I tell myself I’ll be strong,

but I’m still writing words,

the words are still seeping into my skin

the ink never runs out,

and this canvas becomes butchered and mangled.

My pen is silver and my paper is soft

and my words are red like blood. 

Grace

The roll of the waves is like some sweet melody filtered by the rain and pebbles,
I listen,
I pause,
I watch them roll in unison. 
It moves like a pulsing meadow,
all at once then one by one,
tainted by the drag of the moon
and by the soft call of the icy wind -
like it's drawn to its graceful tug. 

The rhythmic beating of its thrumming heart haunts me when I sway,
the reverberation like a ballad in inside my head,
it never ends.
Its monotonous tone continuous forever -
like space but its tune is far sweeter,
far more illustrious than the echoing white noise.

I halt,
I sit still,
I wait for the inevitable,
for the pitch of a voice from behind me,
the baritone deeper than most -
like a chorus of evil has gathered around my shoulders.

The waves roll on in its soporific way,
cleansing my soul one scar at a time.
I'm alive. 
We're alive. 

But

I'm not sure I want to be alive anymore.