EightyEight

Come up to meet you, Tell you I'm sorry.
You don't know how lovely You are.
I had to find you, Tell you I need you.
Tell you I set you apart.


This song makes me need to take deep breaths.
I always need to remember to breathe.
Not to loose complete control.
Even in this hazy state.

EightySeven

Everything feels different now.

In a good way.

EightySix

Theres make-up everywhere.
And all my clothes are piled up.
I still have one sock on.

There was music, freaking drunk hands and laced fingers.
Texting, oh no, Texting.
Responsible for my actions?

Hahaha.
No.

EightyFive

" I wonder if I've been changed in the night?
Let me think.
Was I the same when I got up this morning?
I almost think I can remember feeling a little different.
But if I'm not the same, the next question is.
"Who In The World Am I?"
Ah, that's the great puzzle. "

Maybe it's my sickness.
Or maybe it's just age.
I feel that I've gotten old and sore.
I don't care what you do, don't text me.
I don't think I want you too.
This conversation is over, and my head is sore.
Sleep, where is my sleep?
Where is my sleep?
Tell me what you did with everything I gave you.
Gone. Hahaha.

It's all gone.
And I feel happy.

" I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, Sir, Because I am not myself you see. "

EightyFour

In the dark forest the moon hangs low.
My skin across my back twitches and aches as I see you across the way.
Red floods my vision and the taste in my mouth is bitter.
Shaking hands can't grasp or steady and my heaving chest is lifting me higher.
Bones burst through skin and fabric, pale and white. Clean.
Changing form, crawling, gasping, shaking, growing, teeth are snapping.
You are only looking.
And I am howling.

In the dark forest the moon hangs low.

EightyThree

Your Mouth, bitten and pink, wide and stretching.
Is a liars Mouth.
The mechanics of your Brain cannot connect to those of your twisted Mouth.
So only slow broken words are said.
Your Mouth lets Them believe something You are not.
Your Mouth tells Them one thing abd Me another.

I wish it would just Shut Up.

EightyTwo

It's all still, hot breathing and sober kissing.
I like it here, wherever I am.
Whatever this is right now. It's better than nothing.
But my heart is not breaking, I have accepted every fault.
We are cracked and ruined now, but to us it's perfect.
This is so Damaged.

And the band keeps playing.
And I can hear him singing.
" Fools, they don't know what they're on about. Those Fools, don't get my dreams.
And I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it. All. "

EightyOne

K it quiet, all night long - soft spoken words.
Talk, talk to someone else, let them make me laugh.
It's driving Him mad.
Let's go home, me and you.
"I thought you lived at MacNeill Gardens"

I wanted to go home.

Eighty

I read some ones post.

Anticipation, makes you happy.

I know exactly how you feel.

SeventyNine

Sleep? Where did you go?
There are cuts on my hands, happy ones - from a job that I love.
Working behind there is like being on a stage, people looking, watching you, hoping your eyes to meet theirs.

Blonde? Where did you go?
Our midnight chats and our long drives. Sharing our thoughts and dancing to heavy sounds and pale lights. Crying on my shoulder and keeping my secrets. What the hell happened. Don't answer that.

Love? Where did you go?
Today I am broken, I need to be kissed. Two weeks is too long. Wednesday, I live for
Wednesday.

SeventyEight

I have lots count of the many times I have pulled this face.

It makes my sister laugh.

SeventySeven

I was 21 years when I wrote this song,
I'm 22 now, but I won't be for long.
People ask me "When will you grow up to be a man?"
but the girls I loved at school are already pushing prams.
Well I loved you then as I love you still,
though I put you on a pedestal, they put you on the pill.
I don't feel sad about letting you go,
I just feel sad about letting you know.

I don't want to change the world,
I'm not looking for a new England,
I'm just looking for another girl.

SeventySix

What shall be my final count?

Remember living in your house and watching ourselves grow up.
Stop making your quick escape, stop to watch the curtain call.
Soft folding words from plush pink lips, words to soothe and heal.
Tumbling in and out of love. Oh sigh.
That's all we've ever known.

Yet, I have not heard You speak for such a long time.

SeventyFive

I have no poetic rhyme, no grand phrase.
Only tom-foolary.

I like the idea of being wanted,
When people hint that theyve been talking about you,
But only because they like you.
If they didn't they wouldn't talk.

I hope your lack of reply or interest doesn't mean what I guess.
If so, then you need to know.

This isn't about what you think it is.

SeventyFour

There isn't anything to say now, it's all just dust.
Here in Central station as I watch you holding hands.
I don't even know you. But I want to be you.
To hold your hand too and to tell you "I Love you"
I stand and imagine what they are going home to do.
To watch tv, to read, to cuddle. To kiss...
She wears a big flower in her hair and he wears smart rayban glasses.
They are so handsome. I wonder what drew them together.
Perhaps he saw her in the library, that dark hair and big white flower, or maybe over coffee or maybe they just walked straight into one another.
Or maybe, it was at a gig. And he just had to tell her how much he loved her loafers and she smiles and replies that she loves his boots.
I blink and the cuddling couple with boots and loafers are gone.
Day dreams are destroying me.

I think I'll wear a flower in my hair.

SeventyThree

Sunday Morning 14th March 2010

There is light somewhere in all this murky mist.
Right now I am struggling to see it, but one day I will feel the hot sun beaming onto my aching back.
And I will feel whole. And warm and together. My body will be gentle and my words will make sense to everyone I speak to.

I can't wait.

SeventyTwo

Pastel's have left their fine dust embedded under my finger nails.
My thumb has turned a pretty green colour, and my index finger is a slightly yellow shade.
This all reminds me of being 15.

Pulled back hair and leggings on, sitting crossed legged;
I loose myself completely in the thoughts of a mad man, chalk in hand.

This makes me feel free.
I had forgotten all about this.

SeventyOne

I sleep in black and white.
For weeks, everything in cool blacks and plush greys.

Last night I was in the auditorium watching you perform, the light from the stage barely touches me and I'm sitting in a pool of cold shade.
He performs for me these acts of nothing, letting me believe ; gripping me with his gentle ryhme.
I am a fool to believe, sitting in these decaying colours; it dawns on me.

I do not want to watch this performance.

As I stand to leave He stops. And we hold each others gaze so tightly, swallowing down my urge to stay, I put my hands into my pockets and go. In the dark shades of this world I do not see his piercing eyes and hope he cannot see my bleeding heart.

Seventy

I am every tear you shed
I am all the hate and angst
I am the small laugh that turns to a roar
I am difficult and slippery
I am staring you right in the eye
I am your inner happiness
I am your eternal search
I am what you always have
I am what you give up on

Today, you may not want me. But tomorrow you will need me.
You, this human race, you cannot live without me.


I am Love

SixtyNine

Hahahahahahaha.

Well?

SixtyEight

And my Head told my Heart
"Let love grow"
But my Heart told my Head
"This time no,
This time no."

One day, we will fall in Love.
Won't we Heart?
And One day, it shall be oh so wonderful.

SixtySeven

When I was very little, I was given a small hardback book with soft cream paper and tipped with gold thread. The carvings delicate and sweet, illustrated the words to me.

Bed in Summer

In winter I get up at night,
and dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see,
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet,
Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

By R.L. Stevenson

SixtySix

You Girl!
Come here and clean up this mess.

A frail thing sits on a chair, hair, loose from the scalp, lies on the floor.
Her eyes are wide open, seeing all.
I whisper to her " what can I do?"
And when no answer comes and her stare does not sway,
I whisper
"What have I done to you, my soul?"

SixtyFive

I don't who this is, but I'd like to meet him.


Time for a new shake, a new way to sleep and a new way to speak.
My teeth are clean and I'm wearing that cool shirt.
I've decided to be self-sufficient.
New job, new hair, new lips, new touch.

Maybe, just maybe I'll meet someone like you.
Only, I'll be able to have all of him.

All of You.

SixtyFour

Pisces; the backward motion of saturn has brought difficulties, especially over money matters. Now with uranus setting things free, you banish obstacles forever. It's a great week for clearing the slate. You're no longer afraid to move forward and with mars direct in leo helping your career , the only way is up. Your health improves with your confidence. All you need now is for love to blossom.
Try to - count your blessings.

Every week I read such things and compare them to His. What His sign says, what the Stars sing for Him.
My heart is tired, my eyes are blinking back sweet sleep, but all I want his to hear your deep breathing and the soft thump in your chest.
I do not seek anything anymore.

all she needs now is for love to blossom

SixtyThree

How could you be so perfect for me?
Why can't you ignore the things I did before?

SixtyTwo

Dear Heart,
I am afraid to inform you that the miss-use of your Brain in this current situation is, regretably, causing your Soul a great deal of upset.
We have told you before, and so have many others, that letting your Heart rule is not a good idea.

This is your Final Warning.

SixtyOne

Sweet You,
this is for you.
Everything I say and want to say.
Nothing will stop you, nothing will stop this.
I want to dance with you in this dark place and feel the sweat make our hair stick.
Dressing up and airbrushing our faces, smearing ourselves with smiles.

Bitter cupcakes never tasted so good.

Sixty

This is where I love to be.
Trains and cameras and pasta and suitcase.

To look from afar,
It seems that I am running away.

FiftyNine

To wake up to this sky is something I am blessed with.
Rubbing my eyes with hot soft palms and feeling small inside the heat of my bed.
Eating toast and being able to count the crumbs. Sipping on orange juice and reading my emails.
Letting the hot water pound against my arched back, washing my hair with coconut smelling products and drying my damp skin with fresh clean towels.
Wearing nice clothes and listening to my own music.
A shell, our bodies are shells. And this sky makes every part of the inside of my shell wither and ache.

This body is an entity, running on empty.

FiftyEight

Pencil trousers rolled up over ankles, tweed blazer and lambs wool jumpers, tossed fringe and that quirky gaze.
Hit me with your stare, your grace and your midnight melodies.
Batter me with them.
Let me tell you something, Boy on every street. I will never try to meet your eye.

FiftySeven

You're right, I don't recognize her either.
I once was in love, and I once was incredibly naive.
Tell me stories of nothing and glue together our broken relationship.
I am the same body and bones that you held in your arms.
Yet my out look is different and I'm sure I don't taste of Boots Raspberry Fluff lip balm.

Sometimes,

I miss her.

FiftySix

18th Hole Jumper.

Hahahahaha.