Poetry

This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.

  • I wake in such a foul mood

    With all the ferocity of a rabid dog

    Off the scent of the hunt for weeks

    I wake with a gnawing in my stomach

    An emptiness in my heart

    And a madness that has never been kept behind walls

    I wonder how he got them in the chamber

    Did he ask nicely?

    I wake in such a foul mood

    The dropping from there to here

    With a bite waiting for the snap

    It never quite sinks in

    Never quite sinks in

    That every morning I awake

    Alone

    Tired

    Hungry

    And here once more

    Everything I begged not to happen just before blessed sleep stole me from his world

    Only temporarily

    Only temporarily

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  • Making fifty thousand tiny changes all at once

    But they said they felt better

    Maybe because they could actually talk

    I wish I could make myself over with friends

    I’m only alone alone

    Frightened adults gathering around the child non parentus adult

    I don’t know how I got here

    I don’t know how this happened

    But I live with the consequences of actions I still don’t

    Understand

    I can’t hold it against her

    With a life like this I’d want to graduate from us too

    But looking back

    I feel like that happened a long time ago

    Right around the rabbit

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  • It’s difficult to know, to realise

    To know

    You’ve never been loved

    All the people

    You’ve met just fell away

    Never worried about losing you

    Never got as attached as you

    Never did

    Never did

    That you’ve never been loved

    That no one thinks about you and misses you

    Because you’ve never shut anyone out in a way they couldn’t get to you

    They’re not coming

    Circling the cage

    The cage is getting smaller

    Hands on ears fetal sitting occupying

    Living in the cage

    He steps foot around it

    One two three

    Turn

    One two three

    Only pacing two sides of four about-face

    Alone in the cage

    No one is coming

    He whispers

    They never loved you

    They never cared

    Gone one and all and those who are aren’t afraid to lose you

    Not one person is afraid to lose me

    What a pitiful state alone tonight alone in the cage

    Though I may be alone tonight alone in the cafe

    The only one open

    But no one will find me

    And another day will pass

    Empty handed

    Bag ripped to shreds

    The contents long gone

    The road never ends

    My god

    It never ends

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  • I’ve given into madness

    Given into madness

    When I was alone on the floor

    They reminded me to soar

    I always really panic

    I always really panic

    I inhale til my lungs are sore

    Because I have no one anymore

    But stirring whispers trailing fingers

    You haunt every second of my life

    No remnants tracing lost thoughts racing

    You haunt all seconds of my life

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  • I finally realised

    Why my accent comes out

    Remarkably easy without a doubt

    The “West Coast” accent

    I find it so harsh and in a conversation with an

    Irish

    British et al

    Australian

    New Zealander

    It comes out when the conversation besides to sound

    Like a saw on wood in a noisy shop versus a coursing river in a green den

    A quiet evening breeze through the silent rolling hills

    The rush of the river splitting the once silent nighttime city in half

    A night under the stars while the bugs sing their songs

    None of the things fit together so I try the softer one

    The one I like better the one that phases in and out like an echo from the past past

    I don’t really know the story

    But they were slaves

    And I am homesick

    Because they were slaves

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  • When they ask why I changed my name, why I didn’t change it back

    When I answer it’s because my dad told me my mother named me after a guy she had a crush on and possibly slept with

    True or not

    The name is tainted with the memory of the telling

    Will their eyes open wide?

    Will they see every moment my father must have had with me from start to finish?

    Will they see what kind of mother I had? What kind of father?

    Will there be a look of shock, something dirty being revealed and they wish I hadn’t said it?

    Or a nod of complete understanding

    Of course, my father has made me privy to information I didn’t need

    Many times

    But I haven’t told anyone

    Because at the end of the day my name means more to me

    Briar Rose

    Than

    Ashley Rose

    Every did

    Ashley never rose

    She only crashed and burned out

    Lost in the darkness of a cold room

    Begging for love in a world that never showed her

    She is for before the accident

    We are for after

    And forever after

    I do

    Stuck with you

    Every day

    My name is yours is mine is yours

    We share a name

    And then it stops

    The clock

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