Just once, today

In these walls the writing flows



if they could talk they would voice all of me


I scream back answers i am too afraid to say


A breath is hushed: I want to make you see, in a subtle way


these thoughts are what Is killing me






cry your inner sorrows


I will sit and wait


the courage I have summoned comes slowly


Far, far away






I always let this lead,


watch as I push and you leave


it was easier this way.


Tell me that you love me, don’t ask about my burdens


Ill whisper an excuse


I have lost all answers.






Show me your Religion, Family and Wealth


all these things that set you free


I will start with Faith, Love and Possibility


wings were never granted, life is what caught me.






The stage was set and mine I feel is empty


Act out who I am, a refresher in what thrills me


stand still and be hushed


close your eyes and feed off your own lust


I maintain this way


Just for today.

for the questions

I wear my disappointment in a locket around my neck, between my breasts too close to my heart. I am growing tired of referring to ‘I’ with scientific explanations.


I have chosen to not to be labelled with this and yet I find myself accessorised and being dressed with this ‘condition’. I try to rebel, as though I am playing a game- my role is the warden. So strong in appearance, protecting and unemotional, until I realise I am breaking the rules set for me by medical jargon- and my role truly fictional.

Everybody has their own right to ‘think, do or feel’ is what I am told. I wish this to be stripped from the book, and to be handed a blank journal- in which I will write as though this doesn’t exist.


When questioned by those whose opinion matters, I withdraw as though my ‘secret’ could sentence me to life imprisonment. I feel guilt for not wanting to display the momentary lapses, even though they can be seen in my eyes- smothered by my smiles or my ability to change the subject.


Now however as my blood runs clean and my thoughts are not packed into separate compartments- I want you to see just how far this goes, and how it suddenly ends with no refunds, no repercussions and no explanations.
Seconds of weakness amount to hours of questions, my interrogations never really end, thus i generally choose to keep this where i know it cannot be taken and opened- in a locket, around my neck, close to my heart.

From me, To me

In my heart appeared an opening, a shallow dig left empty- an oasis where my troubles once lay. Time did not wedge off the decay that was once there, nor was it a new interest. What made the clearing was the burning of my anger- the flames licking the place where you lay.


This space now unoccupied, I have cleansed myself and announced you gone. Not an easy task, however necessary, as you poisoned my visions and held me captive with your lies. The sleepless nights I have counted and the scars have been displayed- I will wear your shame. All that I rid myself of is the ache you supplied as your serrated words flew across the room and the memory of my weakness as I made excuses for you. That night I cried knowing that it was over, I cried because I worried where you would go and who would care for you- later I cried for my own stupidity.

I had to explain myself- explain why I had morphed into a monster and why violence became my only outlet. Following my explanations I needed to apologise and grovel for forgiveness, beg people I had put in my shadows to take me back, the hardest apology to make was to my values.

When we are young we distinguish right from wrong- and set in stone our values and beliefs follow us thought our lives, as mine followed me through this nightmare I ran ahead so that I did not have to listen to the reasoning, I always thought I knew better. Without my values we grew, only half of me along for the ride.

Four months on and I have nothing apart from my mounding self. All the material objects in the world will never amount to what I have now; Freedom, opinions, dreams and faith.

I will not blame you entirely, even with your ropes surrounding me; I was the leader of my body and decisions, the enforcer of my rage and your enabler. I acknowledge this, and as I own my faults- you leave my mind, you leave my heart and my soul. You are now merely a story I will tell from a chapter I have read.

The empty place is mine.

before the quest

Before as you ripped at my clothes,
gnawed at my breasts
examining my profile
a mandatory test

in me I was a goddess
ruler, above the divine
My solace gone, lying beside your bed


my body the ultimate quest
more than once- your thirst never quenched
Arching in praise, trembling as I called your name
my moans a sector for the game


a chore, mundane
start to finish
Over and over again

Before youre gone

The pain is dripping on the floor
occupied eyes see no more
Time has created the thickness you endured
fields of grey
monotonous beats and blurred vision of your days
questions have run out and answers wish to be told.

Torture of your unknown bleeds from within.
Unseen, unnoticed, unforgivable.
solutions lie within the hushed breath which you supply
no words can be echoed- there is no release.

The sounds you so long to hear have escaped along with her will
the silence has penetrated too far
the murderous suicide is recorded and captured.
Salted tears add a bitter flavour to your departure
Slowly, hushed and still.
Your polluted dwelling felt much like this,
the new darkness is welcomed, let this stillness spill itself around you
open your eyes and breathe.
You are the silence.
And now you are gone

From my place...

Yesterday the sun came out just for me, even though my curtains were drawn-I knew it was there.

My body has finally made piece with itself, and soon the dust will settle so i can start to rebuild on my delicate foundations.
Unsure of my new design; I am going to take my time, and be careful not to rush as I assemble my temple.
Once complete- I am going to ensure I do not allow anyone in who will rip down my walls and recreate me to fit their design, but marvel at my creations and wake up to my imperfections; and still consider me a work of art.

The set back of my 'recovery' is I keep waiting for the gun to go off and life to start, although it never does.
I feel as though i am left alone at the starting line again- with no real skills to carry me through.
I have made my home upon this broad line, too afraid to go forward yet brave enough to never look back.

I always thought of myself as outgoing, exciting, strong, I now however, consider myself to be a phenominal actress. Society is my stage.

With time I will have my temple, not tomorrow or the next day.
When there is no wind and not only the sun- but the moon and the stars come out for me will I rise from my feeble position and reclaim my place.

Behind these curtains, through the gate, down the gravel road, over the commons and across the main road lies my place.
Ready when i am.

no me or i

I seem to find myself engaging in idle conversation, joking and getting out of bed. My mind races- at these moments i can do anything, i can go and work days on end with no break, dance until my feet bleed and fall in love.Moments later if not seconds it is as though i have digested a stone and it hits the bottom of my stomach with a 'thud', suddenly I have raided myself and come out dirty. Nothing seems possible, all curtains have been closed to the world and peoples faces seep into the background, my body feels as though it does not exist yet the pain is present.

Yesterday i cried until it hurt, until my body felt as though it had gone cold.
I tried to isolate each feeling as it swept through my mind, not an easy catch- each thought darker and quicker than the first.
I kept crying out words i now do not remember- i never remember. I never forget.

For a brief second i stopped scolding myself and felt pity, pure sorrow for the ache that pulled at each muscle and made bumps appear on my skin. Hurt punched at my gut when i realised the position in which i lay, holding onto myself. An Oscar Award Winning performance, except mine was real, and it had no motive, no trigger- no reason to invade my space. I hurt for no reason.

Decisions have been made during my 'recovery' as it has been clinically put, i prey they are the right ones.
In my heart i know i need the break, however i worry about the burden i bestow when i decide things for me.
Growing tired of the word 'i' and 'me'- i wish to be placed in a bath and covered with years of soft whispers.
No noise.
No damage.
No me.
No i.