I want to believe my large heart has it’s own gravity,
So that those I love may never leave me;
But I know I am no star and I do not light up their darkness,
I am no trailblazing comet, no warmth providing sun,
The only thing that is stellar about me
Is how I am slowly being engulfed by my own flames.
Poetic Chaos; An Autobiography.: Every time they looked in, she was sweeping.Day, after day, after...
Every time they looked in,
she was sweeping.
Day, after day, after day
Kicking up the dust and the broken glass
and the memories which cut
the soles of her bare feet.
She never stopped to wrap them
never hesitated to let them bleed;
"She must enjoy it," they imagine
deducing all they can from their narrow view point
But if they had ever bothered to ask
They would know she hated it,
loathed it, couldn’t handle it -
Just found the pain unavoidable
And as she swept and swept
day, after day, after day,
She began to collect the dust
she was trying so hard to clean up.
Her skirt grew worn and tattered,
musty; her skin a translucent, evanescent,
bone-tight monument to all that was left
to be cleaned up
and thrown away.
Some people bleed
just to feel alive
But I bleed
just to taste
what it’s like
I’m so sick of being sad
I’m so sick of what I weigh
I’m so sick of being here
So sick I hate to stay;
So sick and tired
Of being sick and tired,
I’m so sick
Of who I am
I wash my clothes
But it still stinks like the smell
of freshly smoked cigarettes;
There might be a fire in my soul
Get out while you can;
There are no fire escapes here
God forgot to inspect me
before my soul moved in;
My mental pathways blocked
by big red signs: Depression. Anxiety.
Apathy. He’s going to leave.
He’s going to leave.
They’re all going to leave.
And if they do what’s left here
but me, choking, turning blue?
I told them and I told you
Get out while you can
And with good reason
I just don’t want to die alone.
I can’t make it on my own.
Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.
The stairs are caving in
The flames lick my fingertips
and I lick my salt-stained lips;
Trapped. Trapped. Trapped.
Angel haired, baby faced, china doll complextion -
Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.
The smoke keeps getting thicker
I weeze with every breath
My gasps are getting quicker
But nearer so is death;
There’s a fire in my soul
And the darkness in it grows
Get out, get out, get out;
Or choke on my misery
With blackened lungs and blackened insides
(Get out, get out, get out)
Too fragile a heart,
I tore myself apart.
(Don’t leave me.)
They’d barely nailed your coffin shut
When they dropped you in the ground
Threw roses on your casket to mask
the thick air of death that surrounded you.
But I know like they know
Like we all know,
You will never grow again,
Your bones will rot and become dirt again
And so will I and they
Tonight, my heart
Sounds like a thousand soldiers
Marching off to their deaths
Through fields of flowers;
Crushing any hope that might have bloomed,
Despite this dismal setting.
I am done practicing patience
At the expense of regretting every day of my life.
Tonight, spineless or not
I am going to be gutted like a fish;
Cut open and used for other people’s gains.
So don’t tell me to be quiet -
I am going to scream as you cut me,
So that you never forget that you ruined
What was once so close to being unbroken
But now sleeps with eyes open and heart shut to hope, safety,
I remember when
they told me the world
was my oyster. Lies.
The Lady of Casterly Rock;
Her eyes glittered with the possibilities -
The power her father denied her,
The love no one but her brother ever showed her.
Admiration; and the chance to make her deceased mother proud.
She spat - not even weeks into their marriage.
A loveless commitment plagued by infidelity.
By amorality. By death - both his love’s,
And his own.
She sat beside her son on the throne,
She wouldn’t have to pretend anymore,
And she loved her children - she loved them,
She loved them, so much,
She loved him;
But again, love was not enough.
She watched his twisted acts mount;
His cowardice, his impotence obvious,
His sickness spreading and sure.
She loved him, she loved them;
She couldn’t control them at all.
She loved too much, but it was never enough.
And then - then, she could not love.
She could not love at all.
Not her brother. Not her lover.
Not her children. Not him.
She could not love herself
For she could not seem to win.
So the world deduced;
A cold-hearted, weak, foolish failure.
An incestuous deviant, an infidelity ridden wife.
A poor mother. A person of poor character.
Of the richest, Lannister by birth,
She was the poorest of them all.
Was she a Lannister at all?
She weeped but they did not see;
She drank to kill the need to hang
Her dainty little neck, in her pretty girlish clothes,
Because death wasn’t very lady-like;
She never had control, and she watched one by one
As she came to have nothing.
Nothing at all.
"You win or you die," She said, "There is no middle ground."
I hand you a flower,
You ask me “Why?”
“We’re supposed to give flowers
To those we love