dark af

Pretty poetry

I want to write something pretty

But it’s a pity.

Party.

I’ve never felt more alone in my life

And yes I’ve grabbed a knife…

Pussycat.

What’s the best way to go?

I don’t know

but I’ll find a way

On a sunny day :)

What makes this pretty?

My head is full of flowers.

But only God has the power,

To handle my fate,

For it’s myself I hate.

‘Put pretty on paper’

but for now, I’ll write later.

Sand, sea & shells

Soft black sand

Crystal blue water

Washes over the sea shells

Dark but beautiful

The warm sand glitters

Between my toes

He hands me a rose

Is this a holiday

Or a set up proposal?

Marriage is on the cards

but that seems too hard.

Morning

A cup of coffee

A Levi’s jacket

Birds chirping

6.32am

A wooden white porch

With a white wooden swing

Sways back and forth

And I start to sing.

‘singing, don’t worry,

about a thing’

But I think about all of the bad,

Impulsive decisions I’ve made,

As my reputation begins to fade.

A cup of coffee to ease my mind,

To try and put my worries,

far behind.

Quietly singing ‘don’t worry, about a thing.’

But every little thing

Is not alright.

Shelter is what I need

But what a fool i’ve been.

For trusting, for lusting.

Swaying gently,

I realise I am suicidal

And think of myself as a small child,

Have I been too wild?

The porch is a dream,

On it, I lean.

It’s people I fear,

even those I hold dear.

The child in me, wants to play free.

But it’s all my fault, you must see.

Silly decisions for which I regret

but i’m not even sure of who I really am yet.

I’m sorry if I have been too much

It’s a kind husband I need, not another crutch.

The child in me has slowly died,

She wipes away tears, and thinks of the lies.

She sends me hope,

but all I can think about

is this porch swing rope.

MOONLIGHT

666

The moonlight

A sound bath

Asleep

Led on my mat

Magik happens in my head

An opening

A wound

A dying flower

The mat, the sound.

The moonlight

A wound

“Shh, don’t tell anyone”

I’m not dead.

666

Black.

A wounded bird.

I survived.

The beginning and end of this truth.

His hands

I woke.

The moonlight

A shadow

A “shh”

The sound bath

Mother nature

Almost asleep

An opening in my mind

A healing flower

Was that a flash of freedom?

The sound bath

I’m born again

Where has my soul been all these years?

I’m born again

I’m alive, just about.

My heart, my soul.

I can breathe again

But nobody touch me, please. I beg you.

Dreams

Lilac skies,

Dawn at midnight.

Gold stars glitter

Secret doors to a parallel universe.

Shimmering showers

All cocooned by a dark, dark forest.

Dreams.

Slut

Lazy and untidy.

Word origins.

Ladies let us, take. this. word. back.

Call me what you like,

Derogatory…

Why is the word ‘slut’ associated with women?

It means lazy and untidy

So unfair right guys?

Male or female, we all have bad habits

The word has evolved over time,

but this body is mine.

Word on the street is,

to mind your own business.

Sorry Taylor, but not all of the rumours are true :( (credit to Taylor Swift)

I know my truth, my body

Girls get ready,

You know yours too,

but go steady.

We don’t want to upset the boys…

God forbid, they get called sluts… ouch.

Let’s take this word back.

It’s unity we lack.

Use it softly.

Positively.

Dude, you’re a slut! Cool bro.

The rat

Piercing black eyes.

Black clothes,

Black hair

Black aura.

The rat scurries around the Enchanted Garden and smiles.

‘Hey’

Darkness falls gently from the sky as the sun goes in.

‘look at me’

No. I can’t.

Im sensitive, and terrified.

My head falls forwards.

Don’t look at the rat.

It might be a trap.

But I can’t help it, he’s nice…

‘Bad things will happen to you’, says the Good Witch in my head.

At least the rat is alive. The Empath said.

Heart racing, head down.

Rats. A nuisance of nature.

Why must they exist? She says to the creator.

Big black rats in LDN. bang bang. Who invited you?

Some say I might be cursed.

So I’d rather be in a hurst.

Why does darkness follow me?

It creeps up on me, just when I’m content.

I’m terrified.

The light has gone out again.

Come back please.

I love you.

Ptsd

He is laughing at me.

I don’t know why.

30 years of sickness

Makes me want to die.

He creeps up on me in my darkest moments

And steals my sunshine so there is no contentment

I wonder what goes through his mind to hate me so much? It’s black.

I am a shell of a person

That no-one can touch

An outline of a dead body.

My pulse is still beating,

but I’m no longer eating.

Breathe. Nope.

A leech of light

I can no longer fight

Something has to be done

But he finds it fun…

Stop. Laughing. At. Me.

The darkness he loves

The light he loves

But he just takes and takes

Who else might he have raped?

30 years of him since I was a young child

To the point of being sick

I used to dance and sing,

But now my spirit is mild.

He laughs.

Love and Language

Love and language

Think alike

They keep you up all through the night

Dreams of words and fairytales

Swirl around your head,

In a dark, dark veil

Love and language

Have much to tell

If we put our heads and hearts together

We can find light through hell.

Habits

Pink Lemonade

It goes to my head

Our missing peace,

The tears we’ve shed

The staff are busy

with people who need them

but my nicotine habit

is what I crave from them.

The voices in my head,

know everything about me.

It would drive me crazy

but I’m struggling to see

My soul is laid bare,

but there is nothing to see

For now I am empty

They’ve taken everything from me

‘Time to start new’

My mothers words

A new blank page

With no-one to serve.