It’s Just Me

There are days when the pain wakes,

I know there is beauty, but I just see mistakes.

In a field of green, I’ll see no grass.

With good news, I’ll wait for shattering glass.


And love, the life-force in us all,

Ends in heartbreak, of course.

Cynics think it’s smart

To expect hell from the start.


My heart pumps angst through my body in a loop.

I’d let it out if I could break open its coop

And I think about how, I’ve put my body through hell.

And I say, ‘Oh, I’m so cruel and careless.’


Nights when coffee gets the better,

And it seems quite clear I’m the debtor.

The lights go off outside and on in my mind

Then it comes and takes what it can find.


As if the world is not enough,

The pressure I put on me is tough.

A mountain of osmium

I would transfer it to God – If I believed in him.

That’s Just How You Look Sometimes


I saw a picture of us together. Your hand just touched the back of my shoulder. The camera was behind me. He looked at me- ever faithful. You leaned in. You wanted in on some of that magic that we shared. You wanted him to laugh at your jokes, too. Your eyes were captured, mid-dart between the two of us. You could never have the same. But in that photo, just in that moment, your hand was on it’s way down my back. Ready to run down my spine with that Knife of yours.

You Don’t Even Know

No, no. I am not in love with you but you fill my heart with soft, selfless moments. I feel it in my chest when you laugh and I look on, rendered speechless by the moments in which you look vulnerable. I love when you hesitate before you talk. When you’re throwing your limbs around. You don’t know how you look. Lucky me. I know. When you listen and giggle at me. When you mispronounce words. I love all the strange things you throw into the air for me to experience. I love your laugh and you’ll never really know how precious you are to me.

Let’s Start Over

I forgot what it felt like to be alive. I just remember thinking it hurts too much. I spent months dead, assuring myself that I could keep it up. I can be dead. I can hush my soul. It doesn’t feel nice but it doesn’t hurt like it hurts when I’m living a life I know I need to change. There was nothing wrong. But my mind nags and nags and eventually it threw a tantrum, like a wild toddler. ‘You won’t give me what I want? Watch me fuck you up.’

All Out

We all have something to be angry about. I do. I have people I can blame. I have circumstances I can describe as unfavourable but at the end, I know I have to pull myself out of this and be a human being again. Those people aren’t here to save me. Those circumstances have changed and will keep changing until the end of time. I am all out of feeling sorry for myself and feeling like I’ll never have the energy to live again and wondering when I will be brave enough to put myself out of my misery. I am all out of looking at people who seem way too enthusiastic about jogging and having plans and careers and working hard and hating them because I just can’t feel love enough to care for life things. I have everything but I am all out- empty. I am all out of looking around and wondering what the hell this is all for. Because all of that is no fun anyway. I am all out of wallowing and I am ready to live again and I am ready to fight and stop laying down and feeling like everything has wronged me. I’m all out of wasting my days. I want to be alive again. I want to feel that second, third or fourth chance at being happy and forgiving my past. I want to believe I haven’t been wasted and that there is still something for me. I want to believe that. I am all in.


I’m a little girl,

I’ll push and pull.

I need real love when I’m tired of the thrill.

I’ll deny the need,

but I do indeed

still long for a kiss on my forehead.

I have a strong voice,

stubborn not by choice

but I’m more human than I wish.

I want both ways,

I may change each day.

For all this, I don’t expect you to pay attention.

I won’t even tell you why,

my life warrants a reply,

because you’re never to hold it against me.

But let me take heed,

I’ll give you love if you need,

You’ll not be the end to me.


The Title

Day two (thousand) of being amused by little men dressed as sheep. Day seventeen (thousand) of being abused by me and my lack of sleep.

A day and a half of wishing for the past, that may or may not have lived. Today is the last, if it weren’t for her heart, that I continue to hope for upliftment.

A solo wrestle with this empty vessel, filled just with holes and waves of empty. All and any cure, taken from before my nose and that’s on day twenty.

Day forty (thousand) and I’m learning so fast, that I can’t hold on to it all. A further few hours, I’m losing my powers and I hold my breath for the fall.

Simple I am, like the child, like the lamb. Occupied with nothing but obsession. With one thing alone, the comfort of home. I need to be obsessed with something.

So I book a flight, drive into the night. Make sure it’s not easy. Because the thrill is the joy, victorious little boy. An average life is measly.image