I am frustrated in an unwelcome apathy.
You were my heart but
breathed in time,
and her skirts lifted,
until you were replaced
by a worthless clock,
that fell
into the nothingness
inside of me.
You tell me to
don pink slippers and itching lace,
bind bright ribbons in my hair;
bare my crooked row of milky teeth
in dazzling joy.
And when I cry,
kisses on my soft brow
and cuddles from my teddy
will be enough.
I am not allowed to
express myself with tainted words,
or whisper secrets in filthy smoke.
Nor am I permitted to poison my purity
with forbidden delights.
You tell me to
remove my garish outfits,
and cleanse my morbid face of such dirt.
Hold my head high,
and when I smile, it is forever-
forget the tears that are my shame,
and return me to the child,
you still want me to be.
I am caged,
a household bird:
you clip my wings,
and I try to fly-
I forget
that I am clumsy;
I fall.
I desert the skies
for apathy,
and I struggle-
but soon,
my wings grow back.
I'm too fastidious,
picking at each knot
in his stomach,
where love lay resting
like our years.
I am movement,
I am coloured flags.
He is storm clouds,
cooly beautiful
and dangerous.
He rolls out,
uncaring-
he is full,
but I am
still hungry.
You're so disillusioned,
that I cannot hold you together anymore;
reality knocks on your door
and I want to open it,
and usher it inside.
I need to paint in my veins
to remind myself that I'm still here,
and take your skin to the grater,
so it falls, tangible between my fingers.
There's too much of you;
it's hard to breathe
when you fill my space
until it's cluttered,
and I am claustrophobic.
I feel sick, it's so
up and down again,
this ride, this fever.
I need a vacuum
to suck out my insides
until they bleed into yours,
regurgitated so many times
out on the floor.
I feel helpless, I feel ill.
I need to be fed
intrav
I'm decorated with roses,
your tongue a careful noose
as I bleed out,
a lovely puddle beneath your feet.
You hate, the music playing.
It hurts your ears.
It hurts me-
because I think that
once, we danced to it-
and you even made me forget
that it was my favourite song.
I'm decorated with roses,
your tongue a careful noose
as I bleed out,
a lovely puddle beneath your feet.
You hate, the music playing.
It hurts your ears.
It hurts me-
because I think that
once, we danced to it-
and you even made me forget
that it was my favourite song.
You're so disillusioned,
that I cannot hold you together anymore;
reality knocks on your door
and I want to open it,
and usher it inside.
I need to paint in my veins
to remind myself that I'm still here,
and take your skin to the grater,
so it falls, tangible between my fingers.
There's too much of you;
it's hard to breathe
when you fill my space
until it's cluttered,
and I am claustrophobic.
I feel sick, it's so
up and down again,
this ride, this fever.
I need a vacuum
to suck out my insides
until they bleed into yours,
regurgitated so many times
out on the floor.
I feel helpless, I feel ill.
I need to be fed
intrav
I'm too fastidious,
picking at each knot
in his stomach,
where love lay resting
like our years.
I am movement,
I am coloured flags.
He is storm clouds,
cooly beautiful
and dangerous.
He rolls out,
uncaring-
he is full,
but I am
still hungry.
I am caged,
a household bird:
you clip my wings,
and I try to fly-
I forget
that I am clumsy;
I fall.
I desert the skies
for apathy,
and I struggle-
but soon,
my wings grow back.
You tell me to
don pink slippers and itching lace,
bind bright ribbons in my hair;
bare my crooked row of milky teeth
in dazzling joy.
And when I cry,
kisses on my soft brow
and cuddles from my teddy
will be enough.
I am not allowed to
express myself with tainted words,
or whisper secrets in filthy smoke.
Nor am I permitted to poison my purity
with forbidden delights.
You tell me to
remove my garish outfits,
and cleanse my morbid face of such dirt.
Hold my head high,
and when I smile, it is forever-
forget the tears that are my shame,
and return me to the child,
you still want me to be.
I'm decorated with roses,
your tongue a careful noose
as I bleed out,
a lovely puddle beneath your feet.
You hate, the music playing.
It hurts your ears.
It hurts me-
because I think that
once, we danced to it-
and you even made me forget
that it was my favourite song.
Current Residence: australia. Favourite genre of music: anything I can lose myself in. Favourite style of art: dark, fetish, expressive. Shell of choice: m&m. Skin of choice: translucent. Favourite cartoon character: bedtime bear.
Favourite Movies
the rocky horror picture show, beauty and the beast, lord of the rings trilogy, secretary.
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
jeff buckley.
Favourite Writers
lots of unpublished writers.
Tools of the Trade
a pen or a blank screen.
Other Interests
music, poetry, art, crystals, fairies, my crazy cat.
I am full of far too much Easter chocolate.
And far too little of you.
My Sweet Prince - Placebo
Never thought you'd make me perspire.
Never thought I'd do you the same.
Never thought I'd fill with desire.
Never thought I'd feel so ashamed.
Me and the dragon
Can chase all the pain away.
So before I end my day,
Remember her...
My sweet prince-
You are the one
My sweet prince-
You are the one...
Never thought I'd have to retire.
Never thought I'd have to abstain.
Never thought all this could back fire.
Close up the hole in my vein.
Me and my valuable friend,
Can fix all the pain away
So before I end my day
Remember her.
Oh, my. I feel like hell. Arrived home from biology camp ready to sleep the rest of the week away, and now I am coughing up my lungs.
My head hurts. I am tired. And I want it to rain.
you could be my -muse.
butterflies beat their wings and they start a storm...
you look my way once,
and I am l o s t
falling into your
...lovely eyes.
you . are . so . pretty . I . cry.
+ forever,
without you.