Hello

Hi there, I don't know if people still look this blog up or read it (thank you if you do), but I have another blog on Weebly that's similar to this blog but I use it way more and you'll get to read recent life updates and up to date poetry. The blog is called Poetic Rambling and Life Talks and it's not too shabby, I've got a photography section in it where I'm going to be posting pictures of my pets (two rats and two dwarf hamsters). Just click on the link above and it'll take you right over to it.
Please go check it out! :)
Peace. xox

Sleepy emptiness.

If you feel empty, he says,

his voice like molten lava,

if you feel empty then, child,

why are you crying so?

Why do your fists clench in unison

leaving half-moon indents on your scratched and aching palms?

Why does your heart flutter

when you read the replies acting like an elephant dominating the room?

You can’t feel empty, he says,

because that, my dear child, that is not emptiness.

Why then do you flush red

when people utter kind loving words to you?

Why do you sit alone on your bed

wearing a fake smile that begs for forgiveness when you have not sinned?

What is emptiness, my child,

if not a space full of holes?

Why does your breathing surge

when people say hello?

Why do you rise with happiness and flustered grins

only to collapse in doubt and misery not moments later?

That cannot be emptiness child,

I will not allow it to be.

You don’t feel empty, he says,

as we both watch my hand bounce on my knee,

you feel too much and it exhausts you, the trembles

halt and freeze,

you need more sleep dear child, more food, more warmth, and more smiles upon your rosy cheeks,

come now dear child, lay your weary head down upon this pillow made of your dreams,

and go child, go to sleep. 

Just one last final thing.

All it takes sometimes is one thought

a scathing idea that passes quickly but makes your heart palpitate painfully

the kind of thought that makes you want to curl up in a ball and just breathe

but you can’t breathe

you can’t breathe because that one thought won’t leave you be,

you’re stuck in an endless twirl of one idea

forever experiencing the buzz of heartache -

in a way that you’ve never quite experienced before

it leaves you lightheaded as it continues to sing in your ear;

just one thing

then I’ll leave you be.

Just one thing

and I won’t be tarnishing your hands.

One last thing

and you won’t have to hear my nervous laugh

or see my closed off eyes,

just one last thing

and then I’ll let the tide consume me.

This is how you’ll find me

my hand reaching yet at the same time slowly withdrawing

I’ll close my eyes

and we’ll be older

and the sun will be shining

and that thought will have been swept off in the crash of the waves that allow me to breathe,

our ashen faces smiling at one another

the black holes under our eyes beginning to mend themselves

I wish I could look that far ahead

and fully believe in the possibility of it

but there’s just one thing

just one final thought

just one last thing

and I’ll be out of your hair forever.

Dream

I dreamed about you a few times

I saw your face in perfect quality,

watching from my lonely window in solitary

I can see you out of the corner of my eye

but some part of me is ready to get up and leave.

I dreamed about you a few times

I drowned you in the sea

we drowned each other

I dreamed I died in water

but I woke up on fire.

I dreamed about you one last time

We were laughing as we walked into the fire

I dreamed you left me in the flames

I dreamed you drank the ocean

And left me to burn in the volatile flames of deceit.

I dreamed about myself last night

I walked through those flames

I stepped through the walls they surrounded me with

and I came out with burns and bruises and a heart of sticks and stones

but I came out alive,

I came out with the will to survive. 

Scream

I want to scream until my lungs give out

I want to never talk again

I’d rather sit in pure untainted silence

Than have another one of these conversations in my head.

If I look up there is only a starry sky

And sometimes,

Sometimes there are no stars

Only a darkness that stretches as far eternity but is always out of my reach.

I’ve never been good at goodbyes

But I find I’m getting better

With each person I say it to

I feel a little bit freer to scream into the terrifying eternal night.

I also find that with every hour that I breathe in through my greedy lungs

I find myself coming back to life

Slowly at first, slowly then all at once,

I have all the friends I’ll ever need stop saying I need a man to complete me.

I’m not going to put myself out in the open anymore

Funnily enough it’s one of the worst things I could ever do

So I’m going to suck in a deep breath and hold it in my lungs

And I’m going scream into the darkness;

And I'm going to wait for it to scream back. 

Basically Screw You

*contains explicit language [??? as a warning ???]

I want to look at you and not feel anything

I want to hear your name and not remember everything

I want to look at you like you’re a stranger to me

like you meant nothing to me

but my head is so murky

your words are like the poison that I’m inhaling

dragging in fumes that spit like snakes at me

your words are similar in their form

you blame me

you blame them

you blame everyone except the one in the mirror

except the face that you see each morning

you don’t blame that face

you don’t blame yourself

not like me

not like how I live each day;

consumed to the brim with guilt like it’s the blood that drains my veins,

I don’t think you understand how it’s like to live like that.

I want to scream in your face

I want to burn every single trace of you from every single memory I have

cause I’m fucked up yes

but the worlds fucked up too

and you added to that

with your sweet words

your bag of devilish things

you pushed me into that corner of that cliff

the cliff that I was terrified of

the cliff that made me scared of heights,

you pushed me off and expected me to stay in the air

you expected me to stay floating when I hit the icy water

you expected me to forgive you

and maybe I should

maybe I should smile sweetly and sit down with that letter

and not snatch a lighter from someone

and not let it burn

not let the crinkled words mean a thing,

but they do

they cut deep like a dentists saw

they imprint themselves onto my skin like tattoos for all to see.

I hate them

I despise the words you wrote

the lies

the blames that make no sense

I’d love to tell you to grow a backbone

but it’s clear you can’t

it’s clear to me that you’ll forever remain the spineless bastard you’ve always been

there’s no changing that now

but I hope you’re happy

I hope you’re proud

I hope you know what mess you’ve caused

and one day I hope you actually care

and I hope you know that it’s too late now

so fuck you

I can’t spend forever feeling guilty for something I had no control over

I was a child

you were a terrible father

It’s simple in the most complicated of ways. 

Author

I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if it were a book,

It would probably be exactly the same

Give or take a few things,

But my author

My keen-to-write-at-4am author

Might love all my flaws

They might wake up abruptly from a two hour nap and think to themselves;

‘What if she meets someone? What if they change her perspective? What if..?’

And my life will change at the drop of a baseball hat,

As it seems to sometimes anyway,

And I would be written beautifully as I meet strangers in this small unsafe world,

And they would go from ‘maybes’ to ‘somethings’

To ‘nothing at alls’ in the blink of an eye

In the swing of a mood and a drag of a coffin spreading smoke like vines,

They are ‘ex-somethings’ there isn’t really a word

To describe their sad smiles and self-conscious hair

I could never give their characters justice

Not like my author could

And they were given such poetic harmony with the stroll of the wave

That neither of us quite saw the sharks and piranha’s waiting in a hidden cave.

I sometimes think

On those days where nothing seems to latch on to my keen attention

On those dreary days

If I were someone’s character

Are those the days when my author feels sad and lonely too?

The pen in their hand squeezed so tight

The finger hovering over the spacebar

The other over the backspace

Forwards or backwards they are asking

Because they cannot decide on what’s worse

The past – and all of that lonely pain

Or the future – with all of that pain to come

And it seems that lately

That indecisions has streamed a set of its own decisions

Bad decisions

Very few good decisions

And a hell of a lot of paperwork.