Feeling as though you are sat just beyond the perceivable. Where colours stretch through one another into dark corners, filling them with an opalescent liquid light.
In this place, where I am sat, yet another sun dips below this horizon and it seems not so far away. Here I have not had a nightmare for at least a week and there you lay amongst warm blankets alone. These things give me some mild comfort.
This sunset was not brilliant. Only shades of blue and grey are left in the end of day sky, dusk is but a funny thing.
I watch a parade of sugar ants navigate the boardwalk with their tiny, orange legs. I think one stopped to look up into my eyes in some sort of gargantuan wonderment. I smiled down at it kindly and took a finger to its face as if to shake its hand though it politely declined my invitation.
I think the sugar ants understand what it is to be small in such a large world full of mystical lands and creatures. I think they must understand how I feel but what they cannot comprehend is such a dream to escape monotonous lives.
And oh, how I dream dreams larger than my meagre life. How I believe in forces much greater than mine own and how I keep myself a quiet woman.
Of a life decadently drenched in pastel hues and vintage love. To lull amongst your limbs and kisses, where we watch autumn take hold of the world and slowly the snows roll in to powder the landscape. We will live in our own snowglobe for such a time until springtime sunshine pushes new daisies and the roses need pruning again.
See how the clockwork of my small, feminine mind ticks over. The cogs of me are glistening pink and everything I touch is then doused generously in glitter. I am a sensitive girl with a terrifyingly large heart.
When I think of us I think of marigold seas and that liquid light you drown me in. We are dusk where pink and blue lay entwined in one another’s arms convincing new colours from the spectrum.
Recall when life was full of soft, little mysteries
that danced on your palate
and there was no heartache to swallow
Now every three point turn directs you into some other storm
and you just had your panel beating done
you only just dried off
And when you think it’s right
Oh, it feels so right!
a rug you didn’t even know you were standing on is pulled from beneath you
and you are older now
your balance is not what it used to be
you avoid steep edges or cliffs
Unlike a time when wonder kissed your forehead as you closed your unmade eyes
before opening them and peeking over that chasm
Now those powdered eyes have seen things
You’ve watched a girl get run over by a truck
You’ve seen your father lay nearly lifeless in a hospital bed
You’ve gazed lovingly at tombstones while your mother cried
Mysteries are no longer soft
and you are no longer participating in writing the essay before the book is read
No fine print is ignored as you pull a magnifying glass from your handbag
You hold caution by the throat as you fuck it
and proceed to check every room in the house before you sleep
Days roam over you like clockwork
and use you like a greedy man beholden to his nature
Before you realise that your lids have grown heavy and wrinkled you are old
and simply because you didn’t want to jump
because you were nervous
or it was complex
and you thought, thought, thought so much……
Take the ride
I started a new job a few months ago. Truth be told it’s a little stuffy in here, could someone crack a window?
My identity is being challenged again. I am left in clouds of dust screaming,
I am a girl!
Though I am in the midst of a mans world attempting to express my ultimate femininity through this ocean of suits and a vivid buzz cut. It’s all blue and grey where I am a beacon of fluorescence.
I dream of swirling swing dresses, fitted fur coats and gloved hand holding in the snow. I dream of being paraded on your arm where people stop in their laboured tracks to watch the most handsome couple stroll through forest fires unharmed. Jaws lulling open.
Where a scarf the size of a blanket envelops me and becomes my hat, adds to layers of coats and cardigans. Where I am your little cloaked bird, singing into the deepest reaches of you. Loving you there.
This battle is one not won easily. This gentleman’s world flecked with misogyny and I am at the mercy of the dollar.
Smile, speak, be underestimated.
I bet your wife dressed you this morning. I bet you have no idea how to care for that wool poly blend, ten percent tencel.
I bet your ties are pre-tied.
Born to a full moon
the harrowing thirteen
An aching child drenched in hurt
Hand forging armour
like stone carapace
through deep, moonless nights
and suffocating waters
I am suffering with the ailment of time
crawling by on buckled knees
Hands in pockets
He would be laughing at me
the small girl stuck in the suit shop
eyes down on paper
as blazers hug one another on the rails
Hands in pockets
My wrists are clean
but I’ve mentally toyed with the elusive end
more times than I can count
Hands in pockets
I have spent too long waiting
at the bus stop,
for my mother to arrive on time,
the day to end,
to get older,
find my great love
Hands in pockets
I wear three rings, all silver
I wear this heart of mine
through my throat
I don’t bleed to die
I bleed to release; paper and ink
Wire bound years
left me devoid of happiness
my most unnatural state
I felt akin to bonsai
The very roots of me
Keeping me a minute smudge on the surface of the planet
where I could have bloomed
and become the sweetest rose
You were an artisan of spiritual binding
Skies are growing darker by the porcelain second. Each moment more delicate than the last. My bones feel like wicker where I bend only so far.
Anger builds from my core. It’s a kind of fire, white hot, licking victims with forked, red tongues. The many tongues of Medusa only it is I who is stone cold and I will shock you solely with words. My glare threatening but never fatal.
I am small. Hardly one hundred and twenty pounds, but I move with a force greater than some seismic milestone. I am tectonic. See me shift oceans with a sigh, feel a deep concern rumble from the earths core with every lax eye roll, growing frustration.
I question humanity everyday.
Why are we so self destructive?
Where do we find peace in war?
What is it you get out of insulting me with petty notions?
Ha, they say ignorance is bliss but I would rather tangle with the divinely aware. I prefer challenge over increased guilt for opinion and a dwindling tide of personality.
Everybody looks the same.
I wear roaches strung on gold chains from my ears, I wear a collar around my throat and I wear silver, looped snakes on my wrist. Tell me you don’t like it but give me reason, say it with gusto. Do not hold me on the grounds of I can so I will. Hold me for your sake.
Hold me because you love me.
I feel red hot
The subtleties of my nature
careening; earth bound
while I weep for the loss of her
She is gentle
with ethereal qualities
I won a staring contest with Medusa
Cracks in my marble form
sound out like the grinding of a pestle
I bend into caverns before me
to brush the dust from her lovely bones
Wanting to reignite the soft parts of me
where embers caress an amputation
cauterising the stone
and bringing forth golden syrup skin
Like treacle, we could layer a trifle of us
With ink and scars
and honeyed voices
the tears of countless unravellings
Where we could use
butterfly kisses as sprinkle toppers
Holding imperceivable words
between languid lips
I touched the wrought iron gates and
I said goodbye to parts of me
I threw them a ceremonial ocean burial
but still purchased a headstone
I torched them and told them to thank God on their way through His gates
Thank him for the challenges he set before me
and tell Him that I am not sure how long I will be
He knows of my pitch dark sorrow
as He knows of my unbeatable strength
I cried at the departure of me
where angels visited and kissed my tears away
I wore my trousers through at the knees
praying for but a mere moment of calmness within me
For a hand to hold through the night
and a gentle voice to wake me from the nightmares which plague me
I said one last goodbye
and waved slowly to the corpse of my misery
I found my eyes caught
like a fishing hook in cheek
on hands resembling your hands
I sat across from a Jewish gentleman
his face so soft
while his ears stood alert
peaked crimson from the cold
I watched his hands for far too long
he even had an estranged thumb
A boy across the carriage had green hair
and he smiled at me
a wintery grin
with chapped lips and flushed cheeks
I figured he must have run for the train
I flashed a halfhearted smile in return
before swinging my eyes back to those hands
where they settled
buried in memories
and I realised that I must have spent
hours cradling yours