In the cold light of day

This ghost girl
weighted down in the mud

caked

struggling to place one foot
in front of the other
to move forward

burdened with familiarity
and substance
and theory

and all of those things
she held in her grasp
when they looked to her
for command

pinned

hemmed in on every side
as her army flail

crushed into
the sodden earth
like it knows each by name
and calls in such
reverence
that they cannot fail
to hear

whilst she is left
to stitch up the wounded

sew together
what little remains

pulling

at threads till they are taut
and grief will be her burden
alone

there amid carnage
a ghost girl
encased by those lost in the
onslaught

laden with defeat

striving to find breath and breathe

sinking
crumbling

calling out to a god
she no longer believes
exists

and all the whilst this fragile frame
precariously balancing
expectation
which sits heavy on her heart.

A new way of living

The world seems that bit smaller,
A missing piece
That can not be replaced
And every room
Some how more empty than before.

But this is how it is.
How it will be
From now on until forever more.

And I will have to get use to it
Accept this new way of living.

Even if I don’t want to.

The Little Things

It is the little things
I will miss.

The unimportant events.

The ones which mean nothing
To anybody else,
Not big
Nor eventful
Or significant.

Just small
And quiet.

Those things that meant nothing
Even to me.

Yet were everything.

It is those moments
I shall miss most
Because they were you.

You and me.

Us.

Whilst you

I am failing
Under weighted skies
Heavy with expectations

And dreams.

Failing
Amongst all that I own
Because I have said so.

Whilst you.

You tell me
They are not real.
Do not exist.
Cannot be.

The voice who should be silent.

Yet screams.

If she fails to thrive
What happens to me?

I am stalling
Failing
Stuttering

But it is me alone
Because she is not real
And I cannot be.

Let us begin

If I do not allow you
To start
Then there can be no end.

But
There can be no laughter,
No delight
In those moments of triumph
Or well timed mishaps.
No commiseration
When lovers let you down
And friends are found lacking.
There will be
No joy in the unexpected,
Nor galleries
To stumble upon.
We can forget the ease of
Long stretching silences
Accompanied by morning
Breakfast bacon butties.

To have all this
I have to let you begin.

To have all this
I have to let you end.

With little sound

Life clings to me.

A beautiful lie
of all she has mastered.
Each belief corrupted
absolutely
as it forms a seal
around this ruin.

And pulls tight.

Maintained
on this parapet
she kept still
the quiet fight for life
until death came
knocking.

Then fought him off
because
I was her prize not his.

And she is free
to do to me
what is her will.

And I am kept buttoned up
by invisible bonds
I have clung to.

Distortion

I have never been more afraid
Than I am today
For it is in this space
I have borne witness to
The end.

Unkempt and lingering
Hidden behind an unfaltering lie;
I am fine.

As elegant fingers and flailing lips
Sought another truth
When courage was lacking
And perfection was hell.

An open wound

We have watched
As this love affair simply died;
No marching band to mark
It’s passing
Nor bombardment
To obliterate.

Yet what we are left with
Are tender ruins.

Remnants of the delicate battle
Fought
With good grace.

And a war wound
Which cannot heal whilst
We continue to occupy
Each others space.

The war dead

Dead and buried
suffocated
under the watchful eye
of the hero
the master who
came to save
yet found himself
bedded down
embattled
cut off at every turn
defeated
before he had even begun.

A Whole Space

There is never
Enough
Of anything.

No contentment of
Perfection.

And my edges
Are raw

And bleeding.

Nothing

To fill the gaps
Or expanse

Just
A whole space
Where darkness made
Her home.

And I have
Shrunk
To contain her.

Yesterday, Tomorrow, Today

If I had known
I would have been more perfect.

For you.

As I laid there
Safe
Contented
Protected.

If I had known.

And now we look back
To this time
Where all we can see is past

And this image of you
Has imprinted your memories
With such fine grace
That I can no longer hold your thought.

And I wish I had known.

Had some forewarning
That this was all there was.

That tomorrow was our last chance
For goodbye.

the quiet house

Half light casts it shadow
in the stillness of now
like he is
holding the world at bay
until there is no more

time.

An aching quietness
which doesn’t belong
in this place
you once called home.

Your stairs
have been folded.

Your clothes hung.

And even though you are
still here
you have gone.

Stretched

Elongated
Stretched thin

Thinner

This graining shadow
the only prove
of existence

A ghost girl.

The silent prayer

You eat
like you hope that
one day
you will find something
that will complete you
justify your presence
in this world
and give you meaning.

Instead
you are filled with
rage and anger
and an unsurpassable desire
to tear yourself apart.

To punish yourself
for everything you are not.

Leaving the forgotten

You sit there
in that sterile room
and they are all
dead.

All dead

behind the eyes.

Like their heart beats

to preserve
just
skin and bone.

Nothing else.

And they move

from the chair
to the bed
to the scales.
 

Compliant.

Walking shells.

There is nothing

there.

There is nothing there

because they want to
fade out.
 

Carcasses who wait.

Like carcasses who

wait
in the hope
that one glorious day
someone will be able to
breath
life back into
what little remains.

But they are

dead
behind the eyes.

 And life is so far out.

Their life is too far out.

Whilst the robot in their mind

repeats their mantra;
you are not ill
you are not worthy.

And reason dictates

the only way to cure this is to
eat less.
 
Shrinking bodies
keep the decaying mind
occupied
until sanity
can be placed neatly away.
 
Pushed so far back.
 
And you
can sit for hours
in that room.

Repeating empty words

into deaf ears.

There is no light.

Merely nods of

abandonment
or agreement
designed purely to pacify.

For she is master

in her own universe
where you are not invited
to play.

And you walk quietly away.

Knowing each step

takes you
no further than she has
already gone.

Then a tear.

For the girls

the girl in that room.

Weeping

at the loss of a soul
you once knew lived and breathed
alight with possibilities
now
carved into a shadow.

And she is dead.

Behind the eyes.

This space (So small)

Between
the edge of
a diminishing reality
and encroaching insanity
exists
a space so small

barely visible
to the naked eye

where ghost girls
have squeezed themselves
in the hope
of salvation

shrinking
ever more
to prevent their hips
from catching.

Let me be weak

If it shines
so small

so simple

mistaken
by a naive heart
for a promise
of all tomorrows

then let me be weak

and close my eyes
so I might never know

afraid
that under the light
you might find me

lit up

visible

so let me be weak.

Your words (they are stalling)

You say
silence, darkness...forever
as if it is a bad thing.

Yet at least
there wouldn't be this noise.

No constant battle.

Or searing pain.

A fine balancing act

I am not convinced
that death
did not betray her.

Made the act of living
too hard
but kept her undertaking
at arms length
so that
where she was left
was neither here nor there.

A foot on either side.

And in the middle
a body.

Her body
which clung to her bones
sucking her dry
of every living thought
she had
ever had
until all that was left
was a case.

The fraction of what
she had once been.

And a mind

caged.

Battle Cry

Hear the calling,
for it will soon be time
for battle.

My defences are fixed.
Battlements shored.

And so starts the war.

Your side has been chosen.
Now know this;
you can never win.

Prescribed

There is space

and time

and you see the light
and the way
it dances off shadows
across sweeping rainbows
in the empire you built
to protect.

And I see the darkness
and the hand which destroys.

And I feel the space

and time.

And there is no cure.

Gravity Pulls

Gentle
on the stillness of time
carved hands
feigned memories
shifting
beneath the weight
as it pushes the mass
into
the realms of the earth.

Absorbed

until proof has been erased.

Entire

It is in silence
You will find me
Hollowed from the
Inside out.

Bled dry
Of sanity and life
By the monster
Who claimed me
As her
Rightful prize.

A voice
Who was never
Satisfied.

The living entity
Only content in death.

A view from the other side

You came back broken
Lost
Between this place
And that place
Here and there
Somewhere.

No where.

Stuck in the rut
No chance of escape.

And feeling to blame.

You came back broken
And I
Don’t know why.

Windows

That we are
ever changing.

Chasing
the glint of fiery
dragons hiding
under cotton bed sheets
before the flames
engulf
all that was known.

Or flies.

Dead black dots of
nothingness.

Naked

Did I become frozen
amid disappointment,
unrelenting,
unceasing,
a permanent feature
of a folding universe
where this body
has betrayed
each and every one of you,
a mind
once beautiful
stripped bare.

Lessening

I live in the world of mitigated silence,

Terrified my words will fall
On deaf ears.

Dismissed without due care or attention
Before they reach out
To your soul.

And you fail to question,
And you fail to question,

Not knowing
Is easier to contemplate.

In your fitful mind I can continue as before.

Such a terrible lie in this silence

Canned Dreams

Spaghetti dreams
that I can fly,
I can fly,
I can fly
far away.

Hoops and engines
drowning in a
sun red,
for which
it was I
who bled,
tomato sauce. (Of some sort.)

If I could
but only fly.

I can fly,
I can.

If I close my eyes
and dream
and dream.

No cans
gathered,
to get in my way

to block out
a ray.

I fly.

Surely I must.

Containment

Afraid

of all this hope
of finding out

fearing

caught with the sensation
that's clawing away

scratching

scraping

tearing at my inside
with every ounce
of bitterness
it can muster

afraid

of the crash
and
the void

which fills my space
so perfectly.

Twisted

Strange
how you twisted
in my hand
as if
to bind yourself
to me
for eternity.

But you did not
mean it.

Strange
how you're twisting
in my hand
as if
to break yourself
free
from me.

I am not

The thought that you aren't.

Transfixed
in this nowhere place
where time is stationary.

Because you have made it so.

A single point.

And how you along the way
have simply become
the observer.

With a thought
singular
consuming.

Not that you are.
Not any more.

No.

This time one which says
you
have ceased to be.

Scattered

What I long for
is to be
released from my own skin,
to tear her apart,
scattering
across the continents
so she cannot be
put back together
and I can find escape.

Life On One Level

I like to pretend
that the life I lead
is the one that I chose.

And I did choose it.

Chose it because
it was safe.

Still

all my questions
and uncertainties
remain.

And I want
some surprises.

And I want
some excitement.

And I want
the life
I might have had

if only I hadn't been
so afraid.

Raging in silence

There is
a devil raging inside of me,
only she has
a pretty voice.

And can wear pretty clothes.

You know the ones,
those reserved for perfection,
those above you and me.

Believing the lie.

So far from pretty when bones
jut out
from all angles

and small is no longer small enough.

The other one

I could be someone
if only I had been born
in another skin.

One which did not require
as much nurturing
or energy.

A girl who was
all those incredible things
to everyone.

To anyone.

Just passing

Passing time
on your way through
until the other
finds you
wanton
expecting
adored
to the point where I
cannot compete.

A point in time.

Who passed.

Then how come
I have never moved?

From where you are

Drip drop.

Drip drop.

With each ebb and flow

I lose control

Smoothed around the circumference,

Eroded from the middle.

Drip drop.

Drip drop

Drop drip.

Imperceptibly erased from within.

I only wanted

To numb the pain.

Drip.

Drop.

Drip.           Drop.

Drip.

Hairline Fracture

So I hid my brokenness.

But kept on breaking.

Over again.
Over again.

It kept on.

Breaking.

I kept breaking.

Over.
Over.

But I hid my brokenness.
So you wouldn't see.

Mind

I’m slightly crazy

or is that slightly mad

mad about you

you who control

control all my thoughts

thoughts of a different life

life beyond fear

fear of rejection

rejection of me

me who knows nothing

nothing is clear

clear away depict

depict within myself

myself alone

alone amongst the tears

tears that fall

fall away from a world

world in chaos

chaos travels my mind,

I mind.

Catholic girl

With my guilt I should be catholic

or at least down on my knees and praying.

Cause I’ve got bucket loads of the stuff,

over flowing, over whelmed and consumed.

Yes the priest would be proud.

And are you, my vengeful God,

pleased to watch my daily struggle.

Are you pleased?

Are you proud?

Just Me

Is it just me?

Is it just me?

Maybe it’s just me?

Sometimes I wonder

if it’s just me.

Not you.

Not you and me.

Just me.

Just me alone.

Me on my own.

What if it’s just me?

And you’re not here.

And they’re not here.

Only me.

Just me.

Is it just me?

I don’t want it to be

just me.

Almost

Almost brave.
Almost
the sweet sickly girl
the one who lingered
lying in your mind
almost caught
almost brave
almost believed.

Almost

Not quite.
Nearly
Nearly there.

Almost the perfect version
of the lie
never worthy unless
your tongue formed
broken words.

Almost pleasing.
Almost hiding.

No more.
Not now.
Never almost.

Frost in May

Coldness bathes
my failing skin
as falling flakes
settle upon
that which once
burned bright
in sunlight,
bathed in spelndor
and all the protection
offered in being.
And now
how I long for
the unknown,
to slip
beneath the surface
as snow falls
gently
from the sky.

After

If time stands still because you are absent from the world then life has failed and all that is left is to gently pack away the remaining remnants of you.

Coded

Those words I say
“I’m fine.”
When you ask
How I am
They’ve coded meaning

What you should hear is
All I fail
To disclose

What I want to say is
Everything
Which tears me down

How my world
Has been consumed

That life
Is a daily battle
As I fight
To draw breath

Struggle against
Constant chaos
When all I want is calm

And behind this façade
Emptiness has crept forward
Chipping away
Until I can’t remember
Who I could be

I was good
Once

Now
I cannot say.

We Drop Out

If today is the day
it all falls apart,
crumbles and breaks
in my searching hands,
or splinters along the shoreline
then it is ok.

You do not need to find
new things to talk about
or fill the space
with conversations
that will keep me present.

Today
the time has past
and it is all ok.

I'm ok.