Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fun fact, I write most of my poetry around 2am. I'm sure this will slowly get added to as my brain spills out of my head and directly into Samsung Notes. The quality varies like British weather in the Winter. Mostly rainy, sometimes sunny, and always mildly irritating. This is slightly too personal catharsis for me and hopefully a decent read for you. Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter Text

Enough is a wonderful word,

The highest praise

Comes on the day

When you can say we're done here.

Enough is a powerful word,

It's enticing

Rewarding

It tells you that you're done here.

But there is a catch with that word,

When you know you can fly closer to the sun,

Maybe if you were just a bit kinder

Or nicer

Or maybe just wiser

Then maybe that is enough.

Enough is a dangerous word

There's always something

One more thing to do

You won't ever be done here.

Enough is a powerful word

When you set your eyes on the horizon

It says you'll be done never

When you finally reach there.

We know the strength of that word

Infinity is never that far

If you haven't gone far enough.

You'll never be kind enough

Or nice enough

Or wise enough

And no matter what you'll keep on going

Pushing past any semblance of safety

Thinking you're so close to it

But never quite being

Chapter Text

The sun has long since set.

It's 3am and I'm sat

Staring at my ceiling.

Unable to cry or move,

mulling over what was

and could have been.

I close my eyes.

The walls, the roof disappear

and I'm left in a constellation.

Faces of former friends fading

Into the inky black

As stars dot my vision.

A tapestry of what is

and what could be.

Most spots of light are faded

White and almost too dim to notice

I can't tell when I last looked at them,

or if I bothered at all

But they seem weary.

Some burn with a roaring red flame

Volatile, fragile, I can't bear to look.

Stars I've watched for slightly too long,

Pleasantries turned to tragedy

Sweetness soured

They won't be here for much longer.

But that's not what I focus on.

In the centre of my mind

There's a dozen yellow, blazing points.

And maybe I've gone crazy

But I think I see

A sign.

In the midst of their glistening splendour

I see the glint of toothy smiles

and the sparkle in their eyes.

Beneath the drone of the fire

I can hear their laughter.

The sky itself waves to me

and I wave back.

Chapter Text

The room is filled with people that love you.

Everyone sits

Afraid to talk over Spotify,

A thin calming tension.

There's a tear in your eye

Because you want to reach out

And say something.

Because you hate being lonely

When you're not alone.

There's a sense of connection

But you can't tell if you've got wires crossed.

There's a sense of community

But is this for you?

Are they for you?

Are you enough for them?

And so you sit,

Accepting the silence

In the same way a student accepts

They're not smart enough for this.

The room is filled with people that love you

But for the life of you

You can't feel it

Chapter Text

My thoughts ebb and flow.

The beaches of time slowly eroded.

Memories scattered around,

Vivisected by my hands

with age tested tools,

then digested by the ravenous roil.

I'd left those shores behind

in search of fairer seas and fresh memories.

But it feels wrong.

I see their rotted remains outside,

I can smell the pestilence I left behind,

Clung on like it's dug claws into me.

Barbed and leaving scars in my brain

Each new experiment yields old results.

I can't tell if it's a repeat or a replay

But the waves lapse into old patterns.

It's the same

It's different

It's a cycle?

It's time to leave

Chapter Text

Every pretty person steals a piece of my heart,

Until I'm living without a pulse.

I've spent so long with nothing that just the thought of something

Sets my head spinning through countless delusions.

What if they like me and want me and care about me?

What if their gentle eyes place themselves on me because they see something in me?

It's so easy to imagine how it should go.

What it would feel like to be with someone,

The warmth of an embrace and casually blushing at everything they do,

That I'm too scared to even start it.

Because what if it doesn't work?

And no one cares?

I don't want to be proven wrong

Because if they don't want me then I'm not worth wanting

And I'll never get to feel that warmth.

Some part of me wants to know if I'm exaggerating.

I want an answer without asking,

So I have nothing

Chapter Text

I lay myself upon the bed,
my personal operating table,
anaesthetic in one hand,
and get to work. 

Music can only do so much
but it numbs them enough
for me to dissect my soul. 

I'm no biologist,
more an armchair philosopher if anything.
All I know is I think I know something.
Life is a buffet and we're full of what we choose to consume.
We're all patchworks of our experiences, the culture we choose to partake in.
I think that's what makes you and me distinct. 

But there's more than one "me".
I'm not contiguous. 

He's blunt, harsh, utterly brilliant.
A wicked mind,
A sharp tongue.
He's been here the longest I think,
at least as long as I remember.
He's protective to a fault,
far too good at hiding everyone else 
behind his acting skills.
He isn't like this naturally.
It's talent trained via experience,
and he's seen enough. 

They are equally wicked in mind, 
But they have the emotional capacity of a sponge 
As opposed to him, an unyielding rock.
They take another person's feelings and absorb them,
Usually too well.
They don't know when to stop empathising with everything,
so he tries to slow them down,
and over compensates,
stopping them from experiencing anything in this world
It never totally works of course.
They are crafty,
and when they sneak into the mind,
overflowing emotions fester in their wake. 

She's passionate, oh so energetic.
She knows something about everything she likes,
everything about something she loves,
and there's nothing she doesn't like.
She's unapologetically herself
and she's happy like that,
but the other two know she's not safe.
If she were allowed to exist freely,
I wouldn't be safe.
And so she's coddled,
kept away until it's safe.
But he's trained by experience.
So he never thinks it's safe, not really.
They sneak her out sometimes,
but she's always unsatisfied. 

The end of the album.
I snap back into being myselves,
embodying these overblown stereotypes 
into some approximation of a person.
I know I don't know much,
But I'm sure my soul stretches too far 
to be recognizable as anything.
So maybe I'm nothing

Chapter Text

It's an awkward silence,
The knowing glance between everyone else,
Constantly knowing you're not in the know,
and all that's left is stale air. 

It's not like you can help,
or so you say.
It's hard to keep these sort of things in date.
You've had a lot on your plate,
It's pretty hard to keep up
when the world is running
and you've got a fractured leg
which you can't even recognise. 

But let's be honest, I know you're an idiot.
You spent so long hurting yourself and other people
that it's hard to go back,
so long figuring out you need a cast and so long in it,
that it's gone crusty. 

Somehow they still want you,
but it's too different now.
You've been left behind 
and it's all just stale

Chapter Text

It's dark and freezing.
My fault really for wandering outside.
The house was stifling.
Too hot, too cold,
Too empty, too full,
Somehow overflowing with energy
Even though I wasn't feeling anything. 

Well anything is exaggerating.
Have you ever looked outside,
On one of those particularly gothic nights,
where the fog obscures the middle distance
and buildings become smudged crayon?
There's a reason they call it brain fog 

Literal fog too in my case.
Edgar would love this.
I'm sat next to a lovely old building,
all hazey spires and mysterious shadows,
with myself totally exposed.
I'm not even paying attention.
My phone's on dark mode,
chatting away to run away from my brain. 

I know this isn't the best plan.
My thoughts will grapple my limbic system,
Will puncture my heart,
Drag me kicking and screaming
Into their den
And drain me into a walking dead.
It's not a question of if 
but a matter of when.
It's probably past tense. 

I'm getting colder.
There's no warmth from within,
no help from without.
The house is hardly a stone's throw away,
but I can't go back yet. 

Because my thoughts are sinking,
like always.
I'll go back, drained,
Wake up, still drained, 
just the same as always.
I'm a creature of the night I suppose,
and I hate the Crypt.
Maybe if I don't go back it'll fix everything.

Chapter Text

Spirals, cycles, circles,
the pleasant symmetries of reality.
Everything is connected, weaved together
By laws and logic.
All this marvellous beauty 
From the simplest things. 

We're all emergent properties,
some whimsical twist 
of fate and probabilities.
The same stardust,
different results.
By definition we are insanity.
On inspection we are beautiful. 

The biography of the universe,
written upon the cosmos,
penned in alphanumerics,
written by us.
Is there nothing we can't do?
No problem we can't solve?
We could be the Gods of this realm. 

I wish to wield that pen
As the powers above may wield spacetime,
So I may forge a path 
to the heart of this world
By logic and by reason,
twisting the building blocks of reality
for our own cause.
So we may better understand ourselves
and this plane we inhabit,
So we may go beyond.
A legacy written into the fabric of reality.
A legacy worthy of humanity. 

Chapter Text

I've been gone for a while.
Making dreams real,
trying to catch stars.
It's incredible,
and incredibly exhausting. 

I came back to reality.
Just for a weekend.
There's friends to catch up with.
Stories to exchange,
hugs to be had,
the usual friendly business. 

I hadn't told you I'd be here,
the thought of seeing you didn't sit right.
Not because we're now friends 
Instead of something more
But because you're different. 

It's gotten worse.
Not soured, just worse.
You've become, for lack of better terms,
a pixie dream girl.
All dyed hair and vapes,
more a bundle of problems
In a bipedal approximation
Than a functional person.
You look worse for wear. 

I know that seasons come and go,
years pass and people grow.
But you just haven't.
Maybe it's bad influence,
Maybe I could've helped,
But all I can see is decay.
It pains me to see you. 

Part of me is sorry for all of it.
It's not my fault 
Yet I can't shake the thoughts.
Sorry we didn't work out,
Sorry for running off 
when you needed some stability,
Sorry I couldn't help,
Sorry that I can't bear to look
when all you need is help.
I wish I were stronger,
for both our sakes,
And I wish you the best.
Maybe next time I come down to earth
I can be the person you need
And the person I want to be.

Chapter Text

Everyone fantasises sometimes,
I hope,
About the things we had
or want to have. 

I am a lonely person 
To be blunt.
When I can't sleep at night
My mind dredges up memories of you.
Somehow it's always you.
Your hair snuggled into my neck,
Soft breathing matching the tempo 
Of my heart.
When I crave being physically with someone
I see your damned smile,
And you refuse to leave. 

And I can't tell how that makes me feel.
Because that's not you anymore is it?
We're in the past,
We've changed.
Your hair is longer now,
Fiery orange instead of faded red.
The intimacy, as expected, is gone,
Sort of.
No one else gets to play with my hair.
Though you don't love me like that anymore.
Though I can't tell if you even like me now.
I can't tell if I miss you or need you.
Why when I need to feel loved
Are memories of you the first to surface?

Chapter Text

I'm sat on a new train.
Well, new to me at least.
It's one of those open plan ones,
If I were a kid I'd say you could see to infinity,
But I'm not a kid anymore. 

My friends aren't either.
Yesterday was a birthday party.
I missed their actual birthday,
thank god the party is a week late.
So I appear like a phantom,
cards in hand for the twins.
It's taken some time to realise but I know now
why that felt so intensely wrong.
For the first time,
I can't see my friends grow up.
I'm only 2 months older.
But that means missing 3 months 
Feels so much bigger than it should. 

The train sets off
just like it used to.
The Southeastern Service to Charing Cross
Is abducting me once again.
Taking me away from my favourite people.
This town has never felt so alien,
Maybe I've never been so alien.
Same difference to me.
It all feels wrong.
I can't go back now.

Chapter Text

It's been another one of those nights.
You know the type.
Running on fumes,
3 hours of sleep,
Hopes and dreams
And it is cold. 

Biologically there's some reason.
Something about sleep cycles.
Normal bodily variation of temperature
And you slightly messed with the rhythm. 

Then I have to wonder,
Why my heart feels cold?
What's thrown me off this time?
Maybe it's some great shift 
that pierces right to my soul 
and sticks like a half hammered nail.
Something fast, something string
That inhibits the emotions 
Like ibuprofen with back pain.
Numb but that only means 
You'll overexert yourself further. 

Maybe it's something slower,
The lingering sort of chills,
When your essence is jaded
By life and the horrible people in it,
So that no true feelings are felt.
A sort of self destructive defence. 

Maybe I'm just tired,
Hopefully I'm just tired.
All I need is a blanket
And some sleep.

Chapter Text

I am not a morning person.
I can force myself into motion,
Usually,
But it's always a struggle.
It's waking up an hour before I need to 
because I know I'll end up half awake 
In some sober stupor,
Barely a person.
Every morning I wake up and feel 
The time wasting away.
Then I shut my brain up and get going.

I am not a day person either.
Maybe I'm never truly awake.
Most days things just happen 
And then they stop happening
And I have no memory of what happened.
The day blends into a murky stream.
My consciousness slips through the cracks,
the world never felt real anyway.
Time immaterial, events coming and going.
I'm sure I see things that aren't there,
and I swear I hear my friends
From the other side of the country.
I scare myself slightly.

I am a night person, surprisingly.
Late nights are when I get to call my friends,
When it's socially acceptable to be 
Tired,
Delirious,
Messy,
When I get to be my truest self.
Because that's what I am.
There's so much going on in life,
well maybe I'm just weak,
And it's all too much 
So I keep on missing chances.
I'm falling through space and time
And it's almost comforting.
To not be a person,
And to slip into oblivion 
For a moment.

Chapter Text

I'm not very honest with myself.
Or anyone else, I don't think.
I'm always fine.

And if I'm not fine it's a bad day.
If it's multiple days then it's unfixable,
And my burden not yours.
My natural instinct is to bellitle my feelings,
so that I can hide and rot away in my room,
and no one else needs to care.
Then I'm surprised 
When my friends don't really reach out?
I can't expect them to do what I can't.
I'm indecisive on how I actually feel,
How can I expect them to know?

That's the catch there.
How do I feel, about how I feel.
Is this normal?
The burnout,
The constant stress from work,
The eating half a meal a day,
The waking up at 3 but getting up at the other 3.
It's just uni living right?
That can't be a glaring red flag,
Some type of signal,
Because I'm fine. 

If anything it's a white flag.
Because I should care.
I should reach out.
But I can't? 
I'm compelled to silence.
 
Because I know enough people who struggle more.
If I'm their rock then I can't seem to have 
Cracked foundations.
There are some things I have to be,
And some things I can't be.
I have to be fine.

Because I'm losing my sense of self.
I barely feel like a person anyway, 
so what's the point? 
I'm not worth it anyway.
To you I might just be text on a screen,
And I find that oddly comforting.
But I feel like I shouldn't.

Because I'm losing my sense of people.
Which is a weird sentence.
It's like no one feels like a person to me.
My friends all have lives, hopes and dreams,
I know they do.
Consciously I do.
But my brain can't fully register that
We all have our own lives.
People actually do things.
Hang out, make more friends, have a life,
And I just don't.
So my brain is hardwired to think 
That's true of everyone.
So how can I build relationships?
I'm too self centred,
perhaps too tired for empathy,
Sociopathic?
Probably something worse.

I'm losing my grip on reality.
Going the incorrect amount of insane.
I spend so long trapped in my room,
Glued to my phone,
Disconnected from everything.
I hear phantom voices,
Imagine whole conversations,
And somehow I convince myself 
That's fine?!
I must be a very good liar,
To myself and other people.

I can't wait for the winter holiday.
God knows I need it.
But I'm fine, really.

Chapter Text

There I am,
Sat on the floor downstairs,
Chaos above me,
Nothing beneath me. 

I should be happy.
But I just can't.
I can hear them,
We're all drunk to be fair,
But I'm sat at the bottom of the stairs.
Ignoring the conversation upstairs,
Ignoring the fun because I just can't. 

Talking to my friends hurts.
Talking to anyone hurts.
Unable to can,
Unable to be,
simply wasting space and being.
Someone save me from this monstrosity

Chapter Text

I simply cannot implement
Fake it till you make it.
The concept is sound.
But I've yet to construct a mask
Without self loathing. 

Life is a masquerade,
I think,
Everyone masking faucets of themselves 
Depending on the situation.
But I have a self evident theory.
Those masks are based in something.
People have one fundamental core,
Their essence I suppose,
That everything else is based on.
After all a mask can't create new
Only disguise and change the face. 

I have a second, more personal theory.
I don't know who I am.
Not in the "I'm an edgy teenager" way,
I wish it were that simple.
It's something more sinister.
Just to be an armchair psychologist for a bit,
I think I've been wearing these masks so long
That it's welded itself to my face
And embedded under my skin
So now I can't tell what's truly me. 

It feels horribly uncomfortable,
As one would expect,
Having one's essence obfuscated
To the point of dissappearing.
I question everything about myself.
Because what else is there to do?
I can't tell my own emotions apart easily,
I hardly know if I like what I like 
Or if I like it because I should. 

Because that's what it is really.
There's so many things I should like and be.
Can't complain about sensory issues,
I'm supposed to be the nerd,
The token straight,
The token autistic,
The token mixed,
I'm a bundle of stereotypes 
With no clue where they end or if I begin.
There can be no confidence in that.
Without a foundation it crumbles.
I'm introspective enough to know
I need to learn about myself,
Not enough for this.

Chapter Text

Being human is a miracle.
That is no exaggeration.
Somehow, hidden within
Biology and Chemistry,
There is me. 

Made of flesh,
Neurons like copper plated silicon.
Every action a reaction,
Endless while loops.
Inputs are processed
And then you're sweating,
Running,
Loving? 

But what is love, really?
Maybe there's nothing to it.
It's all just science.
Some curiosity from mixing in oxytocin
Like spilling water on a cartoon motherboard.
The supercomputer sparks like tesla coils.
Entirely deterministic.
Maybe that's love. 

That can't be right.
I don't want it to be.
Emotions are meant to be spontaneous,
You're meant to embody it
Not just feel it.
If it's predictable then there's no difference
Between I am happy
and happiness is felt by me.
It feels too personal to just be biology. 

Maybe there's something else.
Not just complex, isolated interactions 
But something separate attached to it.
Spirit and body interconnected but distinct.
Armchair philosopher I may be,
But not even I can interrogate what 
That is in any physical sense.
But maybe I don't need to. 

This is such a fascinating universe,
There's so much to see.
Maybe it's natural that something
Has to fill the void 
And experience living here.
A product of the world,
But far greater than the sum of its parts. 

I'm not sure about you but
I wish to be something supernatural.
Beyond current knowledge.
Creation unknown,
Left without purpose,
Allowed to simply be.
A ghost in the machine.

Chapter Text

If I had a map,
I could pick you out.
Run my finger along its aged surface
And trace the exact path I'd need to take
Because of course I've memorised it. 

You're the warmth in my life.
Like the sun, I suppose.
Shining, ever present, beautiful,
Far too far away,
Unreachable. 

Nothing I can do
Can drag you closer.
It's a planetary scale and I am
Just a small, small man. 

So I trace these roads,
And send those silly little messages,
Imagining the day when the stars align 
And I can actually see you
Without these digital eyes. 

From this far away,
It's an empty warmth.

Chapter Text

Tonight has been
A lot.
So much has happened,
Almost but not quite too much,
A beautiful balance between
what I expected and chaos.

It was meant to be easy.
Just go out with my friends,
Drink a bit,
Sing a bit,
Go home.
But no.
God has given me a chance
To do something
And so I grasped it with both hands,
A priest clinging to a rosary
Like it's a lifeline.

I ran into half familiar faces.
Friends of friends,
Old classmates,
The whole sort.
One of them properly grabbed me,
Offered friendship and free fun.
I chose the obvious offer.
And now I'm here,
Awake at the sort of time
Where workers wake up,
Exhausted from life
But enjoying what I've lived.

I've chatted,
Gamed,
Vaped.
I'm acting in a way
That it'd criticise in other people.
This isn't at all sustainable.
But I'm happy.
I'm content with living in this
At least for tonight.

Chapter Text

This is what my adolescence should be.
You and me, wild and carefree,
Tearing down these country roads
On the other end of the county.
It was going to be a simple meetup.
We didn't really plan this.

This was so spontaneous that it's unreal.
Yet the wind tearing into my face is real,
Our music blasting out the speakers is real,
And so is this friendship.

This is what I imagined sixth form to be.
Bonding over the stupid shit we say
Or the cringey songs we love,
Mocking each other for it
But deeply appreciating them all the same.

This is in the present though.
We're all adults now,
With lives outside of each other.
I have no clue when I'll see you again.
So as we're driving home,
Carefree as we sail over
Uncertain concrete seas,
Guided by phone,
Chasing artifical stars,
I can only hope we get more adventures,
Nights like this.

Chapter Text

Every story has a protagonist,
There's no Odyssey without an Odysseus,
No story without a call to action.
But somehow I've never accepted it.

I've spent my whole life barely feeling,
Barely being,
Unable to accept that I've got a story worth living.
What story is worth telling
With me as a lead?

But recently it's shifted,
You've changed something in me.
We've barely know each other,
I thought I've had other good people in my life,
But my tales with you feel like an adventure.

There's stories worth telling,
Morals about you and us.
How to be kind and honest,
How to be true to yourself,
How to connect when you feel cut off from the world.

I was barely starting to open myself up
To joy and pain and wonder,
Then you dragged me into
Some fairytale,
Saving me from this tragedy.
You truly are my mentor,
A guide to this strange new world.
I love this story,
And I can't wait for the sequel.
With you by my side,
Us against the world.
That's my happily ever after.

Chapter Text

It's that time of year, again.
We've scattered to the winds,
School is out for now.
So here I am.

Home?
Well that's not quite right.
I don't really like it here,
It's not particularly warm,
Doesn't really feel safe.
There's four walls and relatives.
But it's not family,
And it's just a house.

But it's that time of year
So I'm expected to be merry.
There's parties for hosting,
Distant relatives visiting,
People who mocked and belittled
For years.

All I can recount is scary ghost stories.
My nan who appears like a phantom,
Just to start another family drama,
Just to complain about how it's late
As soon as she arrives.
My uncle who has the same snark
Every time I eat what I actually like
Instead of whatever traditional nonsense.

My real family are enjoying themselves.
Some scattered, blown by the jet stream
Across the country and Atlantic,
Some are stuck in the continent.
Even the ones who live nearby
Are too busy being properly merry.

They're enjoying themselves.
All of them.
With their friends.
Their true family,
Which isn't always the same
As the traditional sense.
They're festive.
They have good reason to be.
Everyone does.

But I'm not, maybe I can't.
What's there to joy?
I'm in a place I don't want to,
Doing stuff I don't want to,
Spending time with people I don't want to.
It's draining.
But I have to pretend to be happy,
Because everyone is,
And why wouldn't I be?
I don't want to be a killjoy.
So I suffer in self-imposed silence.

If even the Grinch can enjoy this in the end,
What does that make me?

Chapter Text

The air is crisp tonight,
a calm, cool breeze that cuts
through our conversation as we talk,
each word a weight being lifted,
a leaf swept away on a light breeze.

Your laughter lifts me up,
the way you rock gently on the swings
reminds me of the simple joys in life.
It's past midnight and we're here,
sitting in the freezing cold,
enjoying the company,
sharing our pasts,
and simply being.
I don't have to force myself
to be normal or likeable,
It's clear you don't feel that either.

You're something like me, I think.
life has been a lot,
and we've been hurt along the way,
but that's behind us,
we know we're not alone.

As we stand up to finally sleep
I feel the warmth in my face
and realise
I've not smiled so much in years.

Chapter Text

I woke up late,
grin on my face,
knowing I was going to a place
where I could see my closest friend.
It's his birthday so we're off on an adventure
which starts in London,
I hardly know where it'll end.
Though after I roll into the station
it's not his smile I see first,
but yours.

I know you but I've never met you,
not even seen you,
You're a fairytale.
He's told me of your exploits,
you're strong, smart, brave,
I know I can trust you
because I trust his faith in you.

Seeing you in the flesh is an experience.
Heroes are meant to disappoint
but when I met you I felt nothing
other than love and joy,
I could feel why he cares about you,
feel why he still talks to you
because we've just met
and I'm content
talking the day away with you.

So we finally converge,
the musketeers that we are,
and venture forth into the unknown.
The barely known streets,
a day of adventure
through the abstract machinations of artistic wizards
draining our energy but rewarding us with beauty.
The trek is long, but with everyone together
there's no force that can stop us.
There's a willpower and kindness that
permeates the group
and heals my spirit,
From him, and you.

Escaping we rest and find food,
and you sit, half present,
making beautiful origami creatures
no to inspire or charm,
but simple because you can.
I see why he loves you dearly,
you really are intriguing.

We celebrate at his house,
it's a birthday after all
and neither of us make the best decisions.
When finally forced to leave,
we barely drag ourselves home.
Sat on a far too long ride,
with naught a soul in sight,
we talk and bicker and hug
and simply allow ourselves to care.
Not as we're expected to
but as we want to.

I never thought someone else
would make me feel like this.
Cared about and seen and known.
He is the best person in my life,
and you are too.
I hope I can see you
in my many stories to come.

Chapter Text

It's been a while since I've felt this,
so overwhelmed and overflowing
as to be burned by how cold it is.
It's tears that hang in your eyes,
wanting to lash out at the world
but not having the motivation.

This was supposed to be different.
I've moved away from home.
I'm doing something I love.
This is where you make friends for life
right?

I want to experience what life should be.
Not just some petty teenage drama,
pointless arguments weaved between
self deprecation and threats of suicide.

I was meant to find people I connect to.
But now that I'm here there's... nothing.
I'm here, I'm thriving, but I'm present,
nor am I perceived.

Maybe that's on me.
I do care, I think,
in whatever way my automata heart
can twist faulty logic into
some semblance of emotion,
But I can't show it.
My brain is incapable of rendering feelings,
I must be defective.

Maybe it's not me.
They clearly just don't care about me
as much as I about them.
I can't handle constantly getting talked over,
sidelined by my closest friends here.
I really have left my life behind.

Chapter Text

My actions linger in my mind
like a riddle one gets stuck on
and proceeds to go insane over.
It's not that I try to push everyone away,
I don't want to make a faux pas every other sentence
yet I always seem to do something wrong

But, somehow, you all have it figured out?
A close-knit group
intimately aware of and caring for each other

I could've been that.
I want to be.
But this is not a game I can play,
conversations with you are a puzzle
that I can't solve

So it sticks in my brain.
All the what ifs and whys,
Every night.
The definition of insanity

Chapter Text

I need to go to the hospital.
My heart, you see, it's been having issues,
strange arrhythmia.
My head too,
I've been dreaming,
and that never happens,
I can't stop thinking about all of you.
There's been butterflies in my stomach,
flushed cheeks,
but it's not about anyone in particular?

It can't be love can it?
It shouldn't be,
well it can't be in the romantic sense,
but then I don't get it.
I don't, in simplest terms, do emotions?
My heart is not the type to simply
Ooze everything out,
it spills its contents
onto the cutting room floor
and down the drain at best.
I get crushes, but they don't mean much.
My brain gets confused between
newfound friendship
and pretty people
and then I jump to conclusions.

This feels different though, denser.
It doesn't just spill, it moves
through the vena cava
like a lump in your throat
and gets spat out
neatly on the workshop table,
waiting to be acknowledged.

I try to hold it back but I genuinely can't.
It's in my blood, I care about my friends.
Not in the "could handle it without them" way.
This is visceral, each bruise they get,
every burden they suffer,
cuts into my soul and aches
both in pain and in fury
that the world could be so cruel.

This isn't me, doc.
Not how I see my self,
I don't know how to react to this,
whether it's wrong or not.
I care far too much
about people who don't even like me.
When unrequited these feelings
break my spirit.
I wonder if you can fix that
without removing the bliss
from finding someone who cares about me
in just the same way.
I'm asking the impossible, I know.

I've been self medicating
but I think I misdiagnosed myself.
I'm not heartless, I'm heartful.
And it aches, in that
painful, beautiful, arrhythmic way.
Is this what being human feels like?
I think I prefer it

Chapter Text

These footprints,
I remember everyone here
cake in hand,
sending me off to uni,
and the weight of the moment
sits indented in the concrete,
even though you've mostly drifted
out of sight but not mind.

I can still trace the paths to your houses,
It's not difficult.
My brain is folded into the pattern
of the alleyways,
the contours on my hands
match the shortcut from school
to that massive hill in town.
You've all left marks in the grass.

My room, even, still beats with the rhythm
of everyone who's ever been there.
He's still laughing at my inability
to beat him at rocket league.
She left my life with the warmest hug
and kindest words,
though they taste like venom now.
Their heart still pumps next to my chest,
legs draped lazily over mine.
We're only friends now,
but I can't forget.

Every hug, every kiss,
all the silly little punches,
every kind and unkind word,
leaves marks on my skin,
like tattoos and scars
you'll always be a part of me.

All of you, your very essence,
every impact you've had on me,
has irreparably changed me.

There's a theory I've heard,
well stolen,
that memories can be thought
to inhabit the physical world.
Maybe that's why my heart aches
whenever I come home.
They trip me up and tear into me,
remind me of all the joy and mistakes
of an adolescent unable to find themselves,
sprouting like thistles.
Pretty, unwanted, but mostly I ask
why here?

Chapter Text

Some words roll easily off the tongue,

they're sort of bubbly,

and effortlessly flow out in my ramblings like sand suspended in a river,

swept up in rapid conversation.

Then some get caught in my throat,

a stone shoved over a waterfall

that gets stuck in the plunge pool

or deposited by the sea,

lodged in my mouth.

I don't get it really.

It's always with labels,

those things that are meant to liberate?

Give us a home, something to point at and shout

"This is me and me is this,

you can't take this from me".

I'm autistic, that's wonderful to me,

though the word begets murky waters

it flows smoothly and quickly,

I can say it and feel it when I do.

That's the catch, I think,

you call me autistic and it feels right,

I've charted this river, let my thoughts wander

along the meanders.

It's not just a description,

I embody this,

the winding waters are my

stream of consciousness,

the river valley an extension of my mind.

Call me non-binary,

something equally accurate

if I'm being more objective,

and it just doesn't.

I know it's right,

in the sense that if Men are from Mars,

Woman from Venus,

then I belong in the deep expanse between,

a star sailor if you will.

But it still gets lodged,

something inside me recoils at the title

because it just isn't me?

I don't relate to this, either.

It's another box,

a broader box,

but it's not comfortable for me.

Maybe there's too much, in this context,

god knows I've tried stuffing this in a barrel,

tossing it overboard,

and letting it flow with my thoughts,

but it never quite works.

It's hypocritical, I think,

to love labelling my brain

but not my identity, not myself.

I can only pray

I find my place.

Be it across the sea,

or between the stars we use to navigate.

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I don't think I ever really got  
to grow up,  
not in the Peter Pan sense  
it's almost opposite really  
like I've cut out the middle teen,  
gone straight from kid to this.  
I'm an adult now.  
I never really got "growing up",  
the adolescent experience,  
until now I think.  
  
There's something viscerally rebellious  
about music sometimes, you know?  
A certain satisfaction from buggering off  
across the country  
to see a friend,  
making new ones then proceeding  
to scream out your issues with them,  
heartbeat blending,  
becoming the bass drum,  
emotion riding the melody,  
each key change a shift in soul,  
bonding with people  
pouring hearts into this  
communal, healing experience.  
  
What it is to be young and free  
is to have moments like this,  
liberated from responsibility  
and connecting with kindred spirits.  
It patches my soul,  
filling in the gaps,  
though the work is late and sloppy.  
  
Crude, imperfect,  
beautiful, enthralling,  
It's everything I need it to be.

Chapter Text

This reminds me of home,  
the smell of damp wood,  
pebbles clattering beneath my feet,  
yet it isn't.  
This is not a trail I know at all,  
it's far too dark to be out  
for me of last year.  
  
I'm almost crying  
mostly because a lot has happened  
in this short time,  
who knew it'd only take  
a couple of months  
to upheave my life here,  
time and my fucking up apparently.  
  
The air is cold,  
but I'm not shivering,  
it's that weird moment in Britain  
where the weather decides to be pleasant,  
only for a week maybe,  
a moment of clarity in the climate,  
perfect for this I suppose.  
  
I perch myself on a fence,  
I'm glad I found this trail,  
and soak everything in.  
It's oddly peaceful,  
despite how turbulent my mind is,  
frantically searching for answers,  
for how I ruined my friendships,  
for what he actually meant  
when he said he can't put up with me,  
insisting that I know I'm being rude  
and hurtful,  
like I'm trying to be a monster,  
but no one's told me anything,  
  
I'm clueless  
in the sense that I don't know  
why I'm so hated,  
though of course I'm still to blame,  
to a decent extent,  
I'm the one who's yelled and shouted,  
the one who's delusions have seeped  
into everything, questioning motives  
until I fade into the comfortable mask  
of cold, uncaring, snarky  
without even realising,  
  
but of course I'm sympathetic to myself  
and he has fair reason  
to wish me gone from his life forever,  
I just wish for some patience perhaps?  
Understanding, like how I'm trying  
to figure out what he thinks and why  
why does this always happen  
it feels like I've barely made friends  
since I was 15  
and I've lost far too many  
and I'm always the common factor  
obviously  
so maybe it's just me  
  
I catch myself spiralling again,  
so I let the wind pull me in,  
drifting over and throw my hair,  
soothing my brain,  
it smells of grass here,  
and there's lights twinkling in the distance,  
out of reach and almost fading,  
Peaking above my quiet music  
I hear rustling,  
a fox or rabbit I hope.  
Though I'm worried it's my thoughts  
starting to catch up to me again,  
and so I get up and carry on walking.  
There's still a ways to go  
until I'm back

Chapter Text

3 words,  
8 letters,  
you're not sure what it's supposed to mean  
because we met not too long ago.  
  
I'm not sure what I want it to mean  
because I'm so caught up in you,  
in this moment,  
and words are hard  
and my brain is impossible  
when it comes to emotions  
  
it's strange though,  
how you make me feel  
Cherished,  
Appreciated,  
Wanted.  
  
It's easy to fantasise over what  
we could be,  
but you're older  
with goals and dreams  
that'll cast you out of the country soon enough  
so every commitment  
is a future heartbreak,  
  
I think I'm willing to risk it.  
  
I'm not sure what to call this,  
you're not sure how romantic it is,  
what even is love,  
but I know if I could capture the essence  
of that moment  
with just us, apart from the world,  
and condense it into the tangible  
I'd place it in a long pendant,  
draped like your arms around my neck,  
so it can always be close to my heart.

Chapter Text

My mind is whirring,  
the TV drones in the background  
as radio static peppered with  
half legible murmurs  
of a world outside oneself  
  
but within it's  
wrong.  
Indescribably so  
like one's inner world is off kilter  
senses are too dull,  
thoughts are obscured  
by something,  
  
if I could force it out  
see the shapes in the mist  
maybe it'd be fine.  
But it's not.  
I'm clueless  
again  
and it terrifies me,  
  
all I can do  
is sit in the corner  
just wait it out,  
it'll leave soon enough,  
it usually does

Chapter Text

This river is ageless,  
tributaries meandering  
through all things,  
every city and house,  
each first kiss,  
each last embrace,  
unbounded by space nor time.  
  
Perhaps I'm a pebble  
caught in the flow,  
being flung forth  
unto another's life,  
both of us leaving our mark  
before being whisked away,  
sometimes seperated  
but left with a memento  
of each other,  
a you shaped indent  
in my soul.  
  
But then where's the agency?  
It's not a perfect isomoprhism,  
because you could choose to pass by  
as quiet as the water runs,  
I could stay in the midstream  
and avoid the turbulence,  
but no.  
We choose to make our journey harder,  
waltz into each other's paths  
and stick together  
for the sake of the dance,  
because the connection is worth it.  
  
Maybe we're clay,  
stuck in the flow,  
all in one direction,  
towards the maw of the ocean.  
  
Maybe we're forced together  
maybe we're ripped apart  
by forces we cannot control  
but it's in our nature to hold on.  
What else can we do?

Chapter Text

Here I am,  
misfiring on all cylinders  
and unable to translate thought  
into acceptable words.  
  
It's 3am and I'm sat  
Staring at the ceiling.  
  
But that's a rehash,  
hardly good enough,  
this needs to be something new,  
not everything is perfect  
but if I can't be proud  
what's the point?  
  
I shall compare thee to a summer's day,  
against my better judgement,  
Thou art more dry and sleep inducing  
Rough transitions do shake my brain so,  
lacking in any real  
originality,  
creativity,  
talent.  
  
If words are the window to your heart,  
and this is so lifeless,  
as though your spark is a dandelion  
lost to the rough winds of May,  
what does that say about you?  
Makes you wonder  
if you even realised it stopped being fun.  
It's just for now, hopefully

Chapter Text

Here there is nothing but decay.  
A slow, lingering thing  
centered on my room  
and permeating the house  
with the vitriol of a specter.  
  
That's what I see,  
ghosts of who I once was,  
faded friendships and faulty family  
festering like an infestation,  
flies buzzing around in my brain  
feeding, poisoning, turning to sludge.  
I feel it dripping out my ears  
until I can only stare meekly at the wall  
and let the emotion leach out my eyes.  
  
Something about this place,  
with memories of  
a forcibly half forgotten childhood,  
it gets to me.  
  
I can't stay for long

Chapter Text

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I never did realise  
how your life affected you.  
It bled through subtly at first,  
you weren't around much,  
too busy working,  
so I suppose there wasn't much to see  
but it was clear between  
empty beer cans littering the floor,  
hushed arguments when I was sent to bed,  
louder when you thought I was asleep,  
the way you claimed to care  
but never showed it in a way I understood,  
  
and the music,  
by God the music,  
perhaps the only part of your heritage  
you wore with pride,  
stitched into your baggage like a patch,  
it took me years to realise  
why you love reggae so much,  
how hiphop made  
and soul shaped you.  
It's all shards, scattered memories  
glistening like raindrops  
diffusing through the air,  
  
I can't imagine growing up a migrant.  
Especially not in London.  
I read your diary once,  
secretly,  
and I'm sorry  
some of your friends could only imagine growing up.  
Perhaps that's why you take these cds  
and keep them close to heart,  
preloaded in the car,  
having survived crashes  
and your old car burning down.  
They're precious,  
it's what you have to remind you.  
  
To you it's a dirge perhaps,  
for who you lost  
and how society failed you.  
I grieve your childhood alongside mine,  
though I cannot compare mine to yours.  
You saved me from the hardships you endured,  
but also cut me off from my heart,  
steadfast like a warden.  
I'm adrift,  
too Black to be just English,  
too White to be like you.  
Lonely are the brave,  
but I think I'm just lonely,  
what does that make you?

Chapter Text

Your hair smells like strawberry,
it always seems to,
soft and sweet and cosy
like laying in cool grass
with the sun wrapped around
like a warm embrace.

Your voice is calm as it sails through
the gentle music that wafts through the air,
as we prattle about nothing,
every sentence a code that we know the other understands.
It's life, university, a recent conversation with other friends,
nothing important for its own sake
but because we trust one another enough 
to be willing to share 

These woods aren't the same,
the paths feel more worn, tired,
though the birds change 
they sing the same tune,
As you rest lazily against me 
and words flow out of us like a duet
I realise we're the same,
Everything stays, but it still changes.

I almost want to ask if you'll still be here
when I'm back again,
but there's no need,
the answer stays.

Chapter Text

There is smoke in us,  
a suggestion of heat  
but vapid.  
  
I tell myself it's not my fault,  
not when every smile  
threatens to shoot embers  
to warm my heart  
but this flame in me is mine alone.  
  
I stoked it myself,  
treated each word like a lit match  
even when my hand struck it  
because I crave warmth.  
But this is no substitute  
for love.

Chapter Text

I never really liked the rain,
it was like the sky itself were crying
and taking out that sorrow
by drenching me,
just so I can empathise with it.
Though it still stings
with the bite of a cool spring night 
I've found myself noticing something new.

Water trickles down this lone oak tree,
spattering onto the grass and stone stairs
that I walk down, immersing me
in a most peculiar melody,
droplets cling to my glasses
filling the world with the diffused glow
of lights from a distant window,
amplifying the sheen of the small streams
that flow down the steps
so they twinkle with starlight.
Air is tinged with the taste 
of damp leaves and dew,
soothing my throat
as I take a slow, deliberate breath.

Dare I say it it's
peaceful.
No more, no less.
I may be starting to shiver 
as I walk through my door 
but I have to glance back once more,
because this is special,
like a mighty river 
time goes on 
but the moment is still.

Even now I sit by my window, 
letting the subtle breeze flow past,
listening to the sporadic rhythm of
rain on bush and car hood alike.
I may not like the rain,
but I'll be sad when it stops.

Chapter Text

Hello again. It has been about 6 months since I've actually uploaded anything here? I started this whole thing as a sort of challenge to myself. I'm a perfectionist. This is bad. I thought if I had somewhere technically public to just dump what I write and forced myself to upload anything I finish it would help. To be fair it has, but I have had a huge stint of not uploading despite writing a lot. Between my lack of a mental health, uni, just life, I've let this habit slide. But, as they say, new year renewed me. I have a huge backlog that I only half remember the context for but if you see a lot of stuff appearing here in the next hour that *might* be why. Anyhow, happy new year to the people who keep up with this! Let's hope this one is better

Chapter Text

Life is dull.
It's all action and reaction.
Everything.

There must be emotion underneath
but when your cat dies
I'm only sad because I should be.

My body is hungry
and so it eats
it's all mulch to me, anyway.

But then something shifts,
suddenly lights,
colours,
imperceptible hues I cannot imagine
beamed into me, through me,
cascading into fractal thoughts
of freeing feeling, you tell me a joke
and I just get it
or you tell me your story
and don't know how to feel
but I do and that feels right
it's wonderful and you're wonderful
and living is melancholy wonder
we but stray pebbles caught in
something greater

but it clunks,
and stalls,
fades to monotone.

it's unknowable.
Remember the moment
but not the experience

Stimulus,
response,
that is all I am.

Chapter Text

You're smiling, laughing,
all of you,
drawn closer by chance
or some simples rules I can't understand.

Herd mentality
like birds of a feather,
seperate yet together
but similair we may be
this isn't my flock.

My wings don't beat your melody,
your harmony the death of me
how I crave community,
to be a part of your symphony
but I'm apart from it.

My feeble song brings no warmth
compared to your dawn chorus,
without it there is cold and darkness
alone.

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My eyes focus on vacant buildings, 
the empty stores,  
forgetten plots messy  
with mangled scraps of metal.  
Places left quiet,  
eerie and liminal.  
  
This late everything is still,  
except for my body  
weaving between tumbleweed  
of bags and trash on autopilot.  
  
My mind too wanders  
but in no particular direction,  
like a person lost in a desert  
who rushes, stumbles, crawls for miles  
but ends up where they started.  
Across great, barren plains,  
a glorious not quite nothing.  
Too much and too little,  
thoughts eclipsed by void.  
  
They leave only an impression,  
of something forgotten,  
or emotions I can't remember how to feel.  
Quiet

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It's the last long drag of a cigarette,  
the idle chit-chat as I consider letting it fall.  
To let gravity run its course  
knowing I'd beg it to slow,  
knowing I would fail.  
  
It would tumble calmly,  
landing with a deafening nothing.  
Then I would snuff it out,  
grind my boot into concrete,  
a knell.  
  
I used to wonder as a kid  
when we'd visit family friends  
why my mum would stand by the door,  
coat draped over hand,  
rooted into the floor,  
trying to say everything except goodbye.  
  
When she finally forced it open  
I'd watch her footsteps,  
see the struggle as she  
pulled a leg free.  
I swear she ripped out chunks of carpet  
just so she could say she hadn't left yet  
as we'd stand in the boundary  
of warm and cold.  
  
My fingers tighten,  
I want to hold on to this.

Chapter Text

Sunlight slips through closed blinds,  
creeps slowly into view  
as though it's afraid to alert me.  
Birds chirp outside,  
morning dew coats the window,  
blades of grass shimmer incandescent.  
This should be perfect.  
  
Eyes half closed,  
not after restful sleep but lack thereof,  
exhaustion setting in.  
Breathing heavy,  
dissonant and alien to the world,  
totally disconnected.  
Skin, it itches  
like my bodies not clean and  
everything feels wrong.  
My skin feels wrong,  
a wax sculpture without a frame to rest on,  
and it softens at the touch.  
  
None of this is real, right?  
I'm a mannequin  
and everyone is wooden and hollow,  
just like me.  
How can a husk fathom sleep  
when to exist is discomfort.  
What is hunger then.  
There is no rest.  
None of this is real  
  
Except the gentle Sun,  
the quiet birds,  
the clear dew,  
the soft grass

Chapter Text

We're all star dust, you know,  
and your eyes share the same twinkle,  
your face a constellation,  
mesmerising memorable  
and like a planet I'm drawn in  
like we're inevitable.  
  
I thought I loved you  
like a moth needs the moon,  
I'll navigate by you but  
I need to be far away or I'll confuse myself,  
I'll pine but never come close  
or I'll lose myself to  
something.  
  
But it's more how the sun loves the moon,  
not always close but always connected.  
It's in the way we talk every day,  
spin our silly little tales  
and ramble about silly little things,  
the way we always listen.  
It's the fact that I can make you read this,  
and ramble about everything I'm referencing to you.  
  
The metaphors escape me slightly,  
but all this to say,  
hi  
I miss you, both of you,  
and I love you

Chapter Text

The city looms, menacing,  
great giants of glass  
laced in white, orange,  
glistening like pyrite in the artifical glow.  
  
It inhales, sharply,  
steel flexing from the heat,  
the mass of bodies within.  
  
It exhales, with sickly humidity,  
blood, sweat, tears in the streets,  
thick enough to stand on  
if you're not drowning in it.  
  
People, not quite human,  
move like bottom feeders,  
searching through detritus,  
in some futile efforts to climb  
to where they're not welcome.  
Blood stains, sweat lingers,  
and tears are weakness.  
  
What is a dream to a city so large?  
What is hope to a city so unjust?  
This is not built for hope,  
it's built for profit.  
  
It inhales, sharply,  
crushing humanity,  
an overwhelming pressure.  
  
It exhales, like the last, wretched death throes,  
small, pale, weak we walk on,  
so the city stumbles  
not allowed to die just yet.  
  
That would be bad for business,  
you see,  
and business is its vitality,  
pays for the electricity in its veins.  
We are but food,  
drawn in by a false hope  
of prosperity.  
  
Does the whale care for the krill?  
Does the shark care for the minnow?  
This is not built for prey,  
it's built for profit.  
  
All we can do is toil away,  
maybe love, maybe find peace,  
raise stock prices,  
buy into the fantasy  
that anyone can make it,  
conventionally forget  
that means everyone can't.  
What are we to do?  
  
At least the lights are pretty,  
even as they're burning out

Chapter Text

I don't know if I bleed red,  
or any perceptible shade,  
if I even can.  
  
The lighter idly flickers in my hand.  
I let my thumb slip,  
watch it's orange tip weaken,  
fold into itself,  
into a deep blue.  
  
I wonder how your blood burns.  
Is it a cartoon red,  
the crimson of a fresh wound?  
Maybe that's just theatrics.  
  
The flame spurs itself higher,  
shifting backwards through its hues.  
If this were made of something else,  
maybe it'd be virulent green  
or burn clear,  
like it's made of nothing at all.  
  
You never know  
until you start burning,  
and destroy it.  
So I guess I never will

Chapter Text

Water trickles,  
a fragile sound easily broken  
by cheap wine clinking into the pebbles,  
chattering teeth warmed with laughter.  
  
A comment on the moon,  
as it shimmers on the seaspray,  
a pebble thrown, not far enough,  
a chuckle and a swig.  
  
A quietly spoken truth,  
a relieved sigh,  
the rhythm falters,  
a slow breath,  
in time with the tide,  
  
I'm sorry,  
and I've missed you too.  
  
A half smile,  
the chink of glasses,  
an empty bottle,  
a shell broken underfoot.  
  
A single tear,  
not of joy or sadness,  
but of compassion,  
a long missed hug.  
  
  
Water trickles,  
flowing under the pier,  
you still want to be in my life,  
and me in yours.  
  
I know it'll be alright

Chapter Text

Fairy lights twinkle in the open air,  
swaying with the breeze,  
summer's final, gentle sigh.  
  
Rum and coffee liqour  
mixed with cigarette smoke,  
good company,  
and the calm of a warm night in soho.  
  
I'm not normally a birthday person.  
There's too much pressure, you know?  
I have to be something,  
happy, excited, the centre of attention,  
when I just want to be.  
It's a social tradition, at the end of the day.  
  
But as we sit nestled into the cushions,  
backs to the wall,  
I can hide in the brickwork  
and just watch.  
  
Mum and dad were fighting earlier,  
as tends to happen  
whenever they breathe the same air too much.  
I can never be right, nor left behind,  
always stuck in the middle.  
But you're smiling,  
dammit you're laughing together.  
  
The aura has gotten to us,  
you're sassing the server  
and she chuckles, tuts in reply,  
waving to my brother as she gets back to work.  
This was his present to me,  
a quiet night at this uptown bar he works at.  
  
I've missed him, and I can't say that lightly.  
Like father like son,  
we always bicker.  
It used to be so serious,  
but tonight it's just nice.  
You gave us a tour,  
point out all your friends,  
regale us the tale  
of how you got your drink on the menu,  
like a bard spinning to an enthralled audience.  
You always were a charmer.  
  
This is all I've wanted, I think.  
A family night where we act like one.  
Some quiet bar,  
soft smiles,  
no expectations,  
just us.  
  
For every year that could've been this,  
for a night so perfect  
and a family so normal, for once,  
I cry with a smile

Chapter Text

Have you ever wondered about 
last impressions?
Maybe I'm anxious,
definitely,
but I can't help but wonder.
What did you think of me,
lying on that hospital bed.

Did you expect to see me?
Could you understand why I couldn't make it? 
Maybe you thought you saw me,
in the edges of your vision,
not that you could see much I suppose.
I haven't been told all the details.

Were you proud of me?
Stupid question, I know,
Nan always mentions it,
though her memory fails she must
drill the message into my bones but 
I haven't been proud of myself.
And now I can't ask.
I don't think anyone in the family knows 
I'm not exactly a man to be proud of.
I couldn't tell them or you, I think.
I wonder if you knew what transness is,
or if you'd at least sigh in sympathy 
about how hard it is to be anyone.
I was scared to talk,
I'm sorry.

I'm 20, two years closer to you.
You'll never see me fall in love.
I will never know your speech 
for the wedding I might have.
Maybe you'd love my partners,
maybe you'd call me a cheat,
but I'd die to hear your voice either way.
I cry because I didn't know myself.
I weep because you never will.

Chapter Text

The room is almost silent
but for whispered nightmares,
quiet for fear of making them real.

You look to me for validation,
the hope that you're wrong,
you didn't fight,
he didn't just storm out, again,
and you haven't ruined everything.
I can't find the right words 
to say you're wrong.

You speak fragile,
hollow apologies,
shattered dreams 
of an actual family.

I sigh, and help you clean up.
You refuse it but don't stop me.
I don't talk otherwise,
stuck on what to say and how.
Just a weak smile.

I've always felt this aching
for things that don't exist.
Maybe that's why Christmas hurts

Chapter Text

The tide roils,
ebb and flow,
tracing a soft line in the sand.
It dithers,
takes the edge off,
smooths the boundaries
between the great expanse and myself.

Could you drag me away,
oh tempting tempest?
I feel you in the sigh of the sea,
the overcast skies ahead of me.

Push me, break me,
stab me with your harsh winds,
punish me, ruin me,
take me with all your might 
and make me feel something.

Let me be a part of you,
oh furious fervor,
so I may scream into eternity
with the force to shatter my soul,
unmake me and make it hurt 
so I know I can feel anything.

I sit breathless by the ocean,
my words hollow and empty 
with nary a breeze to make them much of anything.
You sit on the horizon,
just close enough to see but 
I feel nothing.

Chapter Text

Why hello there again my friends, listeners, and anyone else who stumbled far enough to reach here. It has, once again, been a while. I've been finding writing to an "acceptable" standard difficult, and just generally writing at all. A lot has been happening in my life with Uni and family. Pros, new friends, I'm probably graduating this year? Maybe that means I'll have the time to actually write again. Cons, my Nan passed away recently, I have to somehow get a job in this economy, I've felt myself slipping away without any externally enforced structure. That's life though. It is just a bit rough innit. I've been reading more poetry which has been lovely (Modern Poetry by Dianne Seuss has me enthralled in trying to understand it. I'm not one for getting references to the arts but I've been trying!). Anyway, with any luck you'll be hearing more from me, and expect something soon. May the summer give us all the energy to carry on blooming

Chapter Text

Hi again,  
it's been a while hasn't it?  
Since you last visited.  
You come and go  
like childhood nostalgia,  
that one song that gets stuck in my head,  
not that I remember your voice.  
  
I hope you're doing well up there.  
It's hard to see the stars  
without my glasses on,  
I fear whatever signs you send  
can't be seen right now.  
But I feel your presence.  
  
I hope you're not so lonely now.  
I mean, she was bound to follow  
but I don't think any of us expected  
for you both to go so soon.  
I miss your voice.  
  
I hope you're both proud  
even when I'm stuck awake,  
in purgatory,  
wondering how I can honour your memory.  
Not much has changed I suppose.  
I'm still the same, mostly.  
  
I'm still a bit of a mess,  
not that you knew that back then,  
I'm almost done with university?  
Dating is, well, going about as well  
as you'd expect for someone like this.  
Repressive, somehow both  
brilliant and emotionally stunted.  
That is to say, okay.  
It's always okay.  
  
Maybe I've grown in a spiral,  
just to end up almost where I've started.  
I hope you can see the difference.  
I hope I'll see you again soon

Chapter Text

Wind rushes through my aching lungs  
as the hills stand before me,  
promising to sweep me off my feet.  
  
This hill is unnamed,  
of no alleged note or value,  
yet your faded paths  
and thorn riddled knolls  
fill me with simple wonder.  
  
Looking out it's like  
the world stretches before me,  
dried juniper blending into bush,  
farmer's hedges and slate  
making a quilt  
stitched from the heart of the country,  
equal parts wild and tame  
and beautiful.  
I can't help but stare a moment longer