oh.....
you found me.............
is 5 your favourite number perchance?
mine is.
as I am building this website I have pimple in my earlobe (didn’t know this could happen tbh but it hurts).
just a fun fact to keep you occupied.
Here is a secret page of my poetry - some written when I was in my emo phase in highschool, some written recently
Banana 🍌- Iwrote this poem for a year 12 literature assesment and dressed up as a banana, and recorded myself reading this as a slam poetry peice - I got an A (flex)
I rest
The warm sunlight filters through the Venetian leaves
Casting an orange hue onto my yellow dappled skin
Such is life
The view is vast
An expanse of rich green slatted leaves
Drifting in the wind.
Below me lies it’s fleshy trunk
Planted in the chalky dust
I watch as clouds of dirt drift
disassociatively between saplings
The chaos of workman’s songs meld with the cicadas rhythmic chant
Harvest time
He comes with great expectations and a worn blue hat
Wanting the best
Any less and a black bin bag is all you’ll see
He shifted the broad brim further on his forehead, wishing the heat away
The song was now scattered through the field
It’s rhythm lost between the leaves
Between the leaves they lay
A bright smile
A bunch of yellow and gold
Perfect
He reached up and broke it from the stem
Firm, fresh
Another for the picking he thought
And reached up for the next
Green and hard
Plenty of time for to grow
Oh when the saints
Go marching in, dum dum dum dum dada dum da
He hummed as he walked on
Plodding along picking a bunch
Listening buzz of the fruit fly dancing in the shadows of his worn out brim
Picking a bunch
Aching back
Dum dum dum dum dum da da dum
Perfect yellow
Princes finger
Prime pickings
He thought, reaching for the crest of the next tree
Then came the hand hard and callused
All in a days work, many days work
Sunspots sprinkled over worn knuckles
Here it comes I thought
My time
There I was cradled in the hand of the maker
The master of my fate
My spotted skin glowing
As did the sweat dripping down his jaw
A jaw that tightened
Disappointment
No good he says
And I’m tossed in to the black bin bag
Worth nothing but waste
Give me a chance I want to yell
Beauty is but skin deep
Peel back the flesh and observe
They jewels within
The sweet creamy flavour hidden
I have many uses
Yet I am seen as useless
for my inability to achieve
I age well like cheese and wine
The sweeter I get
The better to bake
The better to freeze and blend
But no my waiting is in vain
For I am just red number
Line through the middle
Discarded for incompetency of their strength
While ignored for my strengths
So I sit in the bin bag and contemplate
My fruitless attempt of a life
A poem about a car crash - I cannot remember why I wrote this, I have never been in a crash but 16 year old me thought I could imagine what it was like so here we are
We do not know what the one behind the wheel was thinking
When a roo bounced from the shadows
And the wheels slipped off the beaten brown track
Veering right clunking over scattered pebbles
As the engine began to stutter, splutter
The lights dimming, eyes closing in wrestles sleep.
Still the car slid.
Through wet grass, mossy rock
onto the thick layered edge of precipice
Where pebbles skip and tumble off the brink.
The wheels spun, riding the thick cold air
The windshield shone in the sunrise,
Clouds and colours filling the view in the car.
Sound of birds chattering,
the silence,
A creak.
So soft,
a sudden shredding of steel.
Plummeting.
The weight of gravity rushing forwards,
wind whistled mixing with screams of the destined dead.
The is no onomatopoeia to describe the end.
It was a thud,
not like a falling door, but a shock wave of two tones of metal and glass burrowing in to the cold packed earth.
There was a sharp crunch of shattering glass and metal folding in on itself like paper.
The snap of seatbelts and a loud crack as a head smacked into broken glass.
In an instant,
silence.
Nothing but the drip drip drip of petrol,
leaking out.
Mirroring the sunset, a greasy golden rainbow,
pooling with warm red blood that seeps through seats and runs down the door frame.
Silence.
Flower death - Once again getting very emo, I think I wrote this after seeing a patch of moss in the cement cracks while I was waiting for the bus
In concrete
I saw a flower
At the train station
Between two slabs of concrete
Past the yellow line
It didn’t have to mind the gap
It didn’t worry about falling
Every time a train went past
The wind sent the petals rushing
to the side
Still the flower stayed alive
Living close to the
Precipice of death
But still they thrive
Those yellow petals a sign
Of life
So i picked it from its stem
Carried it all the way home
I put it in a vase
but
By the morning it was long gone
Now by the station
There’s a
clump of brown leaves
With a stem that holds no bulb
It sits alone
no other
Plants among it
but the
Water from the aircon growing mould
Between the platform is the
Grubby dirt and soil
Rubbish left to spoil
Past the yellow line
Lies a packet silvery blue
Nothing worth noting but the
Bones of a bird or two
Bits of gravel
Broken glass
Things so easy just to pass
Since the flowers gone and died
Left too soon
A life cut short
What could I do
A lot in this case
My selfish actions
Bringing on deaths jaws
Leaving a pause
An empty space
A screaming black hole
Something lifeless
Not much grace
A vacant seat
A patch of sunshine
Wow I fucking hate this place
I don’t like that darkness but I
Wish I could see yours
I wish your shadow
All the best in
This lonely world
I wish the flowers
all the best in
This lonely world
OOH A BREAKUP POEM! - If the person this is about finds this, hello, I hope you arent causing any more mistile crisis x
I’m just figuring my own stuff out
Hate to give you all that break up clout
Sorry that I make you cry
Every time I sit by your side
Stop looking at me like a wounded puppy
You say men don’t need help
But
You sob in public daily
I held out my hand
Left a message on your bedside
But hey guess what
Message read no reply
I don’t want that out of the blue text
Why did you ghost me
When we both wanted to stay friends
BFF but I didn’t to want to hold hands
Oh wait
I just realised
Our friendship started
With a red ribbon
Round a box chocolates
Whispers in the dark
And a shoulder to cry on
Meeting the parents
With prom agreements
Said I love you
With in two months
So you really only see me as a partner
Not in crime
Dote on me daily
Make me take the compliments you gave me
But you never took mine
I guess I was your confidence boost
Who needs mental health when I’m with you
I’m not here to fix your insecurities
Parent you with my Maturity
It wasn’t two sided that I can say
You would cry
And when I’d help
You’d complain it didn’t go away
Down down down down
Dark and brooding
So we think
Our time has stopped
The cogs don’t turn
The clock won’t tick
Makes us think
Did we stop to look
Did we stare at a flower
Fragile as it blooms but beautiful
The paintbrush of God stroking each petal
Bringing forth joy for a thousand summers
Did we smile as the rain beat against the window pane
Thudding, reckless, curtains of the water of life
Washing away the past, cleaning the dirt from the sidewalk where we step
Each footstep, each pitter and patter of our shoes along the well worn path
Our lives are entwined but we don’t blink
There’s no awareness of our souls colliding and dancing
as our heart beats to the rhythm of life
It’s dead from the chest
The urge to soar and scream and cry
In joy of life
It’s dulled to a senseless wall
Blank and bare a canvas once colourful now painted over will a shade of sorrow
So deep you cry because you can’t see what was but you hope what will be
Can it even happen when our eyes skim and flick pass over what it already beautiful and bright
Yet we picture an image unreachable untouchable unable to capture that moment
But we try so hard to perfect that image that we miss what life was all about
So we trip and we fall
Over others opinions and our doubts
The endless spiral
Down down down down
A Reflection of my dysphoria in the early stages of my gender transition and coming out.
Some times I’m stuck here
In that body of mine
No way to leave it
Peel skin off in small pieces
one at a time
Do as I like
With no regrets
But I’m not a butterfly
Such a pity that my scabs
Won’t make a chrysalis
I think that I’d be rather pretty if
I could sculpt and shape my body like my brain is
Shifting like a lunar season
Never know what form I’d rather be in
It’s not fair cos
I get to see those people running free and wild
Careless bout their features
Since they fit in
So I’ll just smile
And pretend I don’t mind
Why can’t I be like the other kids
Why can’t I feel like them too
Why can’t I make up my mind
My decisions
Are flying in a blitz
Stuck in a net
Inside my head
I just want to know why
Every day my identity
is challenged as broken and bent
They tell me it’s unnatural
Sinful and selfish
My question is how could I as Gods creation be so twisted
If that’s how he made me in the first place
So I’m sorry that the catapillar dreams of becoming a butterfly
But one day you’ll be jealous of my colours
As I soar through the sky
Watch me find myself
In God
And build my body to reflect my soul
His creation is creative
And it rejoices
In it all
Let those hidden wings unfurl cos
I’m ready to soar
And if I fall then he’ll catch me
And hold me in his arms
Though I know in the long run it will all be fine
for now i am stuck wondering
Why this body is mine
Sleep - anyone else have insomnia?
I said I need it and I do
But sometimes there’s this idea that
I can’t
A fear that
What if nothing happens
An eternity of awareness and paralysis for the night
I’m not scared but
I fear it
I could have so much more
That just a nap
But
What if I complete my list
Then maybe
The reward of sleep is
Justifiable
I’m not proud of this idea
But my head
Has fear
Of thinking
And thinking
And wondering
Through deep channels
Past the lost things
Past the graves of childhood memories
Past suppressed emotions
Digging and churning what was once
Forgotten
Then maybe I’ll forget
Time
And suddenly it’s morning and I did
Nothing
And even then
Why sleep
I could do something
Effective
Reasonable to assume
I can achieve it
Look at me
Cream of the crop, top of the heap
Yeah sure i look perfect
But I’m shattered past repair
The superglue ran out in 2015
I’m left with washi tape
To hold the broken bits
At least I’ll look cool
Make it compliment the pyjamas
That I’ll never sleep in
This Ain’t It - pov you have a breakdown after you graduate high school and realise you lost your selse of self over academic perfection
I’m standing here
Honestly
Middle of my bedroom
Doing absolutely nothing
I’m scared
Of my life ending
Hate to think I won’t care soon
Absolutely empty
Bottomless pit
Don’t want any pity
Baby
I’m used to it
Every day and and night
Every single waking second
Even in my dreams
Don’t know when death with come
Beckoning
I ain’t suicidal
I don’t think
But I reckon everybody would be fine without me
I hate the fact I hate my self
So I think others hate me to
I hate being so perfect
Makes me want to cry
But it feels like I can’t show it
My life’s not fucking perfect
And neither am I
Stop going on and saying
That I have to live that lie
To keep pleasing my superiors
Place my worth in just my actions
18 years of faking shit
In the hope that something good will happen
It’s not worth it
Should never had gone and done it
But who’s to tell a five year old
That 13 years from now
their brain will be worn down
I can’t even think of hobbies
Let alone my favourite food
Can’t tell you my happy moments
And I’d hate to brood but
I forget that I have friends
I can’t see my future
But I
Also can’t see it end
I swear I’m not
depressed or suicidal
But sometimes I just want my life to
Go somewhere else
Other than down hill
My life’s not fucking perfect
And neither am I
Stop going on and saying
That I have to live that lie
To keep pleasing my superiors
Place my worth in just my actions
18 years of faking shit
In the hope that something good will happen
I honestly don’t think that
Anyone will see how much I
Hate me myself and I
I’ve always got that empty feeling
A party’s no different to
Staring at the ceiling
Hate how I can’t speak about it
Hate that I don’t try to fix it
Hate that I can’t see my life without it