Evil is a coward that
hides in the
afraid to show the truth
in the light.
[not even it is fearless .]
...And the spaces between
words, are like
irregular and unsatisfied.
[you kept my heart beating .]
...you've got the rain following you
around like a sad tune
dancing atop of clouds
crows are loosing
off of flowers.
[it's melancholy .]
...i'd like to see the stars, fall
and kiss the
i'd make a wish as they'd shatter its glow
into a million little pieces, and
across the seas.
one day, these lights will go
out; one day, that wish will come
[shut your eyes and imagine
...i stand facing the wind
so i can
feel the world hit
me at a 1000
i can take a blow
...and everytime i flip
these empty pages,
i can see
are the blank
[i have nothing to say .]
.What do you want to be when you grow up?
They ask it like a dare.
As if letting your unlikely dreams
slip from the safety of your mind
could bring their own
a little closer to reality.
Little BirdLittle bird,
where have you flown?
how much have you grown?
How is your broken wing?
The one that I cared for,
that I put in a sling.
do you think of me
as I do you?
Do you wonder where I've gone,
what I've gone through?
do visit me again;
you've been the only one
I've ever loved;
my only true friend.
.Every night I pray
the miles of nerves
beneath my skin
will melt away, so
the lash of your
no longer sting.
how to take someone for granted (instructions).i. when the weight of the world is on their shoulders, leave them be.
when the heaviness transfers to you,
expect their sympathy.
ii. goodnight cuddles and kisses add a nice touch
to a relationship; it is far too much
for them to ask you to listen.
too much time is wasted, you see.
iii. yes, when they are curled up crying with their blanket or duvet or whatever instead of you for warmth, you know you're doing well.
they are beginning to tell
that you only want them for your own need.
iv. endless messages flood your phone. inbox. voicemail. letterbox. they want you but you are not there.
you don't care. congratulations - you're not too attached.
v. now it's the time to find someone new
to bend-over-backwards and jump through hoops for you.
she has gone crawling to someone else for support and is trying to forget your existence.
and just how do you feel about that?
.and they knew,
they knew i'd gone -
when they found me outside crouched
with a string box and stick, singing
i'm going to catch me my death,
make him sick -
now i sit in a gown that is whiter
than white, doesn't suit me,
this ghost to myself -
on the corridor bench with my knees
tucked in under my chin, rattling
with green yellow blue
(i've told you, i know where i'm going)
like my past lovers
dressed from head
to toe in black,
the tarmac, pink
dry five petaled flowers
that i don't
care much for now,
an empty womb
a crypt, the darkness
jumping ship again,
his bones soft
a vein, a needle
and a weight
against my chest,
the golden sun and silver
moon, the beds
inside saint peter's
(they sound like my heart in the night)
.tell me anything, give me a poem -
let me walk through the night with light
in palms outstretched and melt the dark,
pour salt and time and swim
right through the net, fresh water
brimming diamonds in the sun, i hit the ice
and rise as steam, a shepherd of the air, a gentle ghost
that hears the scrubbing of her grave -
and i am still afraid of needles in my skin
from mother death, she said she birthed too soon
a life that kept its eyes shut to the world, the best,
she told me, i had skin of bark, so thick and strong,
my veins like branches, they'll feel holy
to the birds, got roots that go straight down to hell, when will i learn
that there is no grace to be found in hanging
from a tree, my neck is twice as strong as mary's, but in my body
way down deep,
there's something turning fitfully
(and it knows more than i do)
.i am child
i am sister
i am baby and bitch,
every name but my own stuck in my skin
like needles, thick venom slides through -
my veins and into my chest, to my heart -
that warm gift of your flesh and blood i gave
you to unwrap, stale
i lay in a field of opium, red
and on fire, i think he was angry, he handed
me salt and the tusk of a boar and said wait
for me to call you,
and i did -
eat the land
drink the sea, i opened my mouth and saw
nothing but white feathers fall to the ground,
he grabbed my hand and held it to his own lips
(she says there will be no more poems here)
wordless they succumbAnd they fell -
just like that.
Just like the act of breathing;
soundless and inevitable.
Like an eager girl slipping
straps from her shoulders,
the soft crush of silk at her feet.
summer childHe can't remember
where he left his sunshine
but somewhere between the
watermelon smiles and
it had disappeared.
He's hunting for it,
nose to the ground like
the dog he is,
yet his full-moon eyes are
wider than ever before
and they still can't see
past the cool, dry breeze.
The barren trees
around him quiver,
tremble in the night
like his peach-blossom lips,
still the tears -
floodwaters only just
contained in the failing light -
are not forthcoming.
It won't be long before he
fills his weed-tangled lungs
with harvest winds
and cries out to Mother Earth,
mourning the dandelion wine
that sours on his tongue.
I saw the tornado in your eyesSo you learnt to hide your hurricanes,
You hushed your storms silent,
And hid the seams in your bruised heart,
You found cracks beneath your gentle smile.
-I saw the tornado in your eyes
.i think you know
of hair wound tight round a hand like rope
of thoughts that sail in and let down anchor
in the night, sleep drifting away on the black tide,
i think you know of god up in the crow's nest, keeping watch
his eyes have rolled at us so much they rattle, loose now
in their pits like marbles, they say he knows
i have examined the slides of my childhood, uprooted my body,
yanked myself out of my years with my own gloved hand
like a weed and stared in disgust, it's only natural
that you should still want to sleep with one arm over
your head, she said, don't you think?
i think the sun lit up
the world's scars
and felt bad, hung its head
through the horizon
and cried in shame
now i don't think it's ever
going to stop raining
(i am holding up my mind, i am shoving it in your face)
.in the beginning
in the bone
of holy fire, the night
ate away at it all,
that acid tide -
it ate away at
the bud in the mud
and the blood,
it burned their bodies
but left their ghosts
so they could be
and then a wild
man, a monster
pressed his thumb into
the air, he drew
a cross upon his face
i am drowning
i am drowning in light
i am drowning
in the white
and the gold
as he sits
at the end of my bed
and he shouts -
i don't know
and i scream, god, please just
let me sleep!
let me sleep
in the cold barren ground
of the earth,
let it pull me right in
through its mangle -
and i feel a sting
in the crook of my arm
when they come
(and then even the wolves, even the wolves start to whimper)
.i can't sleep and the sky makes me sick
it can see you -
but what can i do? untie the limbs
and remove the gag
and let my poetry go,
feel the rivers start emptying
bursting their banks,
pay attention -
your heart was a foreign body, rejected
your hands, your hands had no shame,
greased with blood and losing their grip
on the world, but what could you do?
there was no sense in the way that they
hurt you, the way they poured salt
on the wounds
(the way they smothered one pain with another)
.my grandfather died last night
and i sat on the roof for three hours
and i felt
and i felt
and i wrote
and i wrote
i bit the night
and the night, it bit me back
and i cried
i am still feeling
i am still writing
i have made
i am letting
off it's leash
(i'm going to let my mind chew right through me)
i need an angel
with big white wings and skin
that shines like gold,
do you believe in angels, charlotte?
the plants are all dead in here,
how can a plant
know something i don't?
and i'm not religious but the only time
i ever felt peaceful
was when i sat in church
luke comes in, and chloe says
luke, you believe in angels?
he says what, like them feathery dickheads
with halos and stuff? nah i don't -
then we sit and watch a fly bash it's brains in
on the window
that it can't see what's killing it
neither can we
(the plants are dead, but we are still waiting)