i think to be unloved is to be damned. 

for a while i thought myself damned.

can you really be damned at 16?

i gave him two cigarettes this time, 

and offered another two. 

he smoked them till the tips of his fingers burned, 

i wanted to place them on my lips.

suck them, kiss them, cool them.

i sat across from him, nursing one drink, careful with my teeth and my brow.

he...

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"i know how to walk from here to there" 

okay, i muse back, 

"so walk through fires with me, walk through" 

i cant. i never have been able to. 

the places that i walk from are the mouths of cavernous houses. 

and from them ive only just realised i can leave.

"i will give you wings and a heart and a lust for the finer things"

good, i need an incentive.

"but you must act upon...

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sitting on a train with my head bowed in a quiet mourning for the couple sitting two seats in front.

or really for me.

i mourn for me, me and my love and its cramps.

im in love, im in love and once more im in love. 

not with anyone but with everyone, or anyone who'd see it through.

then each time i remember that the only thing i want to be is noticed,

someone can notice that, eve...

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if you show yourself to me 

i will disappear under the vastness of linen filled lines.

i will run through clouded streets until my legs give way. 

if you loan yourself to me 

the farthest hills out yonder 

arent far enough for me. 

the distance to be put 'tween us 

by me, 

must be longer than the wizened vines that grow from your mothers childhood home. 

must be wider th...

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i miss the child i was at 17. 

i miss 17, i miss missing, i miss loving nothing. 

i miss wanting to feel and not being old enough to get it yet.

i miss thinking i was emotionally literate. 

im 19. 

nineteen. 

i am still a baby, a kid, a viriginal chalice not yet ready to be drunk from.

there is no slow down, you crazy child when it comes to me. 

my onlookers wince as i choo...

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am i hungry or has the pit returned.

that stupid fucking pit.

its an eternal loop, circling in and out of itself.

floating dead centre in my gut.

particles of another girl explode and expand out of it, 

overcome by this strange girl from the strange world.

i weep on my mothers lap, 

i retch over porcelin, patterned.

seeing my sister for the first time in weeks, 

she glow...

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youre a good little girl,

he types.

youre submissive arent you, 

he moans, over text.

he expects a beguiled, 

blushing emoji in response.

what he gets is three dots and an empty silence so loud he remembers what he is.

a greasy teen (21 years of age).

a lusty manchild looking for another child. 

he tells me im a cute and submissive girl, 

with luscious milk bags. 

...

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curled on a velvet chair

in a darkening room

is a monstorous teen. 

outside the blackening,

is a fading pink sky.

the clouds within whisper to shepards, 

"Delighted I Hope"

and on the highest grassy hills,

the shepards face eternity.

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my soft soles patter over the cold slates that make up the maze of halls im scurrying through.

i am on an adventure, a treacherous journey,

to retrieve a single key for a locked door ive been trying to batter down my entire life.

there are others, winding their ways through the spiralling turrets.

sometimes we even fall in unison, 

our shoes hitting the same beats, on the same beate...

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i've seen the smallest, tall creatures be eaten alive from the inside.

a quick glance to the left and under the bed will tell you all you need to know. 

the festering, rotten bed frame.

assembled by the very thing that chained me onto it for years.

but when i finally broke my own chords, vocal and the ones restraining,

another creature crawled from under the bed and took my place. 

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on the day i decorated one side of my wall, 

there was a statue that fell with a crash, 

and cratered the ground. 

a statue whos golden plaque was read aloud to me as a child. 

and on the day i decorated one side of my wall, 

with the movie quotes, 

and the pretty people, 

on that day my eyes bruised themselves silly. 

my pockets full of hours, and grief. 

non violent pu...

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to feel as if one has emerged from a cloud of dust each time they wake, has to mean a great deal. 

it's what's on your mind, as you duet with the girl on the other side of your headphones. 

it must feel like the brightening of the day, the singing of the earliest bird, the sweat after the fight.

at least this is what you think to yourself. 

for you it means to be able to run two steps ...

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love feels like cold jealousy. 
sitting across from one another. 
the table could be worlds and oceans. 
i sting with furious stomach churning envy. 
snakes and beetles scurrying between my legs. 
closed and rotten now i know what i do. 
she is so much younger than i,
the times my time was always first, 
no longer exists. 
she broke a cycle as old as i, and therefor 
as old as my time. 
...

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