i need to lie down for 
a hundred years, thanking
the stars for princes and
thieves. 

it’s cold down here on earth,
shivering with all the fears
of heaven and hell, picking
at goosebumps and scars
from a past life. 

sing me to sleep, ivy wrapped
around wrists of ivory and
poison seeping into skin so
fair, so fine that veins lead
you home to my heart.

pushing waves against the wall to 
breathe against his weight, his depth,
his great expectations. 

curving spines with cracked ribs and 
literature plastered on the inside of 
elbows, wrists and knees. 

needing, wanting, breathing and 
dying in a cage, sucking on oxygen
but bleeding blue. 

we lie on the ground and look at the 
stars, feeling small. we could be great,
but it wouldn’t be enough. 

i found seashells under my pillows,
ethereal; their voices were calling
and my dreams were plummeting. 

deep breaths and deeper plunges,

jump. until you can’t breathe, until
there is sand and sea and fresh 
air flushing from your lungs. be brave,
be bold. or walk away from that
cliff edge. 

once upon a time, there was a story
that needed to be told. but i swallowed
her verse, when i swallowed my heart.

i could lock you into 
categories of my mind, 

flinging secrets and kisses
from necks, mouths and
wrists at the wall. 

hating you for the worlds
we create, and the hope
we lose daily. 

loving you for the words
you whisper in these ears,
blessing my fingertips and
locking my heart with a 
silver key.

you’re the first, angel. you’re the 
breath and blood of my lungs, pulsing
and beating for the whole world. 

break down the elbows and knees
of a girl dying to love you. fucking 
her from behind until you can stomach
your greed. snatching her up, shooting 
her into your veins and scrambling for
more. why twist the arteries in your heart
to stop the guilt. why pretend that there is 
more to life than this, when humanity
is shedding more blood than tears.

history is the story of the victors, said
a hero; the memories of those who
did not lose everything. 

god looked down from his tower
once and sighed, he blew away 
the toy soldiers and brought down
lightening and thunder, rumbling
through the hearts of his admirers. 

i cut strands of dna 
away from my face. 
princess in a tower, 

i was crumbling.

my mother cried, waves 
of an ocean bleeding 
over my soul

for the blonde mane 
between my fingers;

and i sobbed, for the times
she could not see the 
darkness in my chest 
holding death like an
angel. 

my teeth are shattered. bone creaking, 
cracking at the roots, at the nerves;
a gaping black hole where the tongue
used to lie, pot holes like broken 
tarmac. like holes in a vein. 

there’s zebra crossings on these
arms and legs; zig and zag. zag 
and zig, where the knife became 
blunt and the lines became dull.

i used to never eat but my blood
still tastes like metal. 

hair pulled back, scraping your brain
for details, for the information that 
you’re losing. cognitive degeneration,
you’re so numb that you’ve forgotten
how to spell, how to smile aloud. 

crushed bones and rotten euphemisms,
a deity asked me for my truths and
secrets once, but he was just a boy with
a narcissistic complex, blue eyed boy. 

wish me away

with a breath so 
delicate that even
dandelions 

could not quiver. 

souhaitez-moi de là,
mon amour.

quiet now love, he whispers against
my hair. so tragically breathing
like we belong to one another. take my
heart and my hand; who needs chivalry 
when you have fucking against cold
walls and solid unsteady promises. 

you need to drink it all, you need to
take this in, before i take it all away. 
who decides when the stars shine and 
when the moon suggests that it’s night
now; who decides that god was a three
letter word for all mighty, and a synonym 
for humanity living underneath a pedestal. 

the wind is waging war on the leaves, 
singing the lyrics to destruction and the
man who pulls down the trees. you have to 
be quiet whilst they take your words and 
leave your lips quivering. i thought i saw 
a man that had a heart of stone, feet of 
grass and a face of a cliff edge. but he is
gone, whispering and waiting.