Your happiness.

The happiness you hand out is fleeting. It feels plastic and mass-produced. Made in China. It is brittle and easily broken. So easily. It is transparent, and still would be even if there were depth to it at all. Thin and sticky as toffee, it clings and leaves a noticeable mark. A mark that stains. It leaves a taste in the mouth, sour and at times over-sweet. It is tinny and always stuck on repeat. One wonders if it ever was, is, or will be real...

Happiness. Joy. Pleasure. Cheer. Glee. Delight. Ecstasy.

A kiss.

Want to take your jaw into my hands,
And catch your breath between my teeth,
Make you open your mouth,
And let the words on the tip of my tongue,
Trace the shape of your lips.

Backseat.

You're the emptiness of the seat beside me.
An itch where my fingers grasp empty air.
The flash of a streetlight into shadow.
A yearning for something that just isn't there.

Mess.

Fighting back the tears,
That sting and burn my eyelids,
From exhaustion, anger, grief,
And all I know is,
I just have to get through this next day.

Shimmer.

Is it really true
That everything that shimmers
In this world
Will fade
I'd like to believe
That the sun of a smile
Will always shine
Even if it's just
In my own orbit
And that the murmur
Of some voice
Will always turn my head
Sending shivers down my spine
Putting a sparkle
In my eyes
Even if it's not always you
That puts it there.

There's 7 billion people in this world, so why are we so scared of being alone?

Doing my thing.

I got a new pen today.

Oh yes, I did.

In time.

Sometimes. Time moves so fast, it scares me. Then other times. I look back and time hasn't changed at all. I watch the hands of the clock move the seconds of time away. I panic. Where is time going? I look again at the clock and only a minute has passed. I think about the seconds that count and the ones that don't. Or do they all, and I've just never noticed...?

Watching you pass by.

I long for things,
I left behind,
But have to wonder,
Were they ever really mine?

You move so slow,
You cut so deep,
It makes me believe,
You were just that way with me.

Dilemma of a listener.

Those people, the ones who are always there. The ones who listen, comfort and help to find a solution. What happens when everyone they were there for have other people to fill that space. What happens when all those people that needed a shoulder to cry on have found someone else's to cry on instead. Do they find someone who will be there for them? What if they can't? What if they spent too much time listening instead of finding someone who will hear them...?

Domino.

"I can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air. Now I'm breathing like I'm running 'cause you're taking me there. Don't you know...you spin me out of control?" - Jessie J

Just this, right now. Don't really like the song at all, but it's catchy as hell. And these three lines are STUCK in my head!

Might try to write something inspired by it...you know, when I don't have a report to write, due tomorrow, that I haven't finished.

Procrastination session over! For now.

Can't fix you.

Anxious for change,
Sick of your stagnancy,
Just begging for breath,
Ready to leave but scared to break,

When I walk and don't turn,
Just promise me this,
Appreciate how I stayed,
Even when I couldn't fix you.

Head and heart.

The classic battle - your head versus your heart. Your heart all for one person, your head telling you that someone better is out there.

When the battle is real - my mind is on one person the whole day, but when I fall asleep and dream of someone else coming to rescue me...

I guess my head is telling me that there's only one person who I should be thinking of. But my heart screams no.

Power out.

Stayed up 'til the lights came on,
The candles all shrunken to drips of wax,
Stars muffled behind smudges of cloud,
An imagined glow on the horizon,
Could hear the rumble of the surf,
Crashing of molten silver waves by moonlight,
To rouse something lost inside,
Bringing it drifting to the surface,
First, the caress of midnight-cooled breeze,
Then, the simmer of your touch,
Time softened in the haze of dark,
Memory fleeting as the shifting shadows.

Anger.

There's an anger deep in my stomach that I can't shift or find the cause of...
The pain that descends heavily,
It breaks and doubles over,
Knowing no silence or peace,
Just the rip of screams.

Bruises.

You've melted my heart down,
The pain of the heat,
Is drip drip dripping,
Down my chest,

It's easier having bruises,
From sources I don't know,
Then knowing that I'm black and blue,
From falling so hard for you.

Star-strewn gaze.

Nose to nose,
Limbs loosely bound,
Pressed close against,
Chest tightly wound,

Eyes barely closed,
Touch taking in,
Urgent but slow,
Every inch of skin,

Lips so entangled,

Change of gear,

Skin thrums with pulse,

Heart pounds dear,

Fingers locked fast,
Nearer than night,
Cores end melded,
Absence of light,

Discovered at dawn,
Vague cold haze,
Dark is memory,
In star-strewn gaze.

Overthought.

It's the need for warmth when you're shaking too badly to function.
It's imagining everything ending badly when it's all going well.
It's the moment of hearing bad news and refusing to believe.
It's the best thing that happened that turns to the worst.
It's thinking of the end at the beginning.

Walk away.

I went for a walk to nowhere to sit alone and let my thoughts explode...

So human, even though a part doesn't want to be; isn't that why I found myself out here in the first place? And still, even though it's beautiful as it is - lonely - I'm praying for someone to find me here, maybe someone who was looking for loneliness too, and we'll be lonely together. Not lonely though. Alone. Distinct from the rest of the world.

This place I cannot describe. I'll try - it is a breeze, stirring something deep inside yet only just brushing the surface. It is hot and desolate with an icy clear beauty. The empty sky. A stark background to grey-green leaves that end like they've been cut, just where the white-yellow sand begins.


...proof that I can't write on demand.

XIII ways to fall.

Falling:

1. Asleep
2. Down
3. Over
4. Flat
5. Apart
6. Back
7. Behind
8. Through
9. Away
10. Out
11. In (love)
12. For you
13. To pieces

Let go.

She smells like vanilla and petals,
Her mouth the sweetness of apples,
She is the dream, the promise,
All softness and easy perfection,
Everything he wanted or needed,
Or even thought she could be,

Yet he is done with her so quick,
Surely it was a nightmare,
Or something in the way of madness,
He will be surprised to learn,
How quickly she can step aside,
Before he tries to walk away first.

Lost you.

It hurts that you know exactly who I am, even now.

You recognise every flicker of emotion
You comprehend my every movement
You understand my sighs and smiles
The way I am in every moment

It hurts that I don't know you in any way, anymore.

Ghost.

Alive
And then
A gasp like exhaustion

Glass shatters
Life pending
And smoke drifts

Rising
A wraith
A wisp of thought

Curling back
Returning
Home?

Hands reaching
Pores leaking
Screaming

Smoke swept away
Weightless
Weightless on the wind

Grey like no thought
Gone
But not forgotten

Soldiers.

The soldiers in a line,
Perfect, countable rows,
Ready to fight, to die,
Just to prove,
Amour non-réciproqué,
There is no understanding,
Of all the pain,
The wars now forming,
The hearts to break.

Too late.

Letting someone go is the hardest decision to make,
When time after time you've tried to hold on,
Wishing they'd open their eyes to see your fingers slipping,
Trying to grip for just one second longer,
And how it hurts when the moment you lose the fight,
They turn, eyes wide open at last, but you're already gone.

This smile.

This smile you've given to me, I tried to make it go away. I thought I had it under control. Thought you didn't mean that much at all.

Funny how I know that I can't lie and yet I still try to lie to myself. It doesn't work any better. So maybe I'll just go with the truth.

You make me smile. And it's amazing.

Can't cope with your words.

You're such a hypocrite.

you kill me

It's hypocritical of me to say that.

suicide

Paris.

My parents and little brother are in Paris. I am possibly the most jealous person alive. Imagine all the inspiration over there. I miss Paris. Here is a journal entry that I wrote following my first trip there - about 4 years ago...

"Though it was dark and grey, she felt fully alive; as if the sky was shining down clear, vibrant light mixed with crystal raindrops. Not a threatening sky at all, that which hung over the dull but dynamic city, trimmed in gold and boasting the salmon-bronze peak of le tour eiffel. 

They had just arrived, she and the others, their stomachs bubbling with anticipation. A walk was suggested, the rain had abated. 
A walk? Boring. 
Well, why not? 
Jackets? 
Don't bother. 
She grabbed one, practical as ever. 

Limbs fizzing with energy, they made their way down the sidewalk. Grey, of course. There was uniformity, if nothing. The crystals made a showy, over-the-top reappearance. Half remained, blanketed by practicality and a hardly useful green canopy. The rest fled. 

Found themselves in a park. 
We are adults now, parent-less in a foreign country. 
Slipped and slid and shouted and giggled anyway. 

Soaked to the bone, hair slicked, cheeks chilled, fingers trembling. 

Nous sommes à Paris!"

Do you tremble?

Can't help but write long poems lately - my thoughts are runaway.

Rushing and heaving,
A room filled with mouths,
Your lips shaped to,
Words only I heard,

My eyes drawn to yours,
Dark deepest drowning,
Your eyes on mine,
Know I am safe here,

Side by side and close,
The gentlest touch,
Tremble, I try,
To focus on breath,

Hottest heat burning,
A haze seems to shift,
Lines are all blurred,
Clarity in you,

The crowd stirs, mutters,
Yet here we remain still,
Silent shy stunned,
Hesitant to break,

Tremble, we tremble,
A shimmering bond,
Feel it budding,
A new bud to bloom,

A sigh passes now,
Cold recognition,
Crowd starts to move,
We pull away slow,

Heat all leaves with you,
Fading and falling,
Cold rushes in,
I shiver and hurt,

Dare not to glance back,
Though I am aching,
The flower wilts,
Will it bloom again?

Teeth.

The teeth of the night press into skin,
A thousand pinpricks of pressure,
Rolling over the surface, searching,
Injecting ice into blood,

Shuddering, bitter-sharp pain,
And the cutting sweetness of warmth,
Rushed and shoved aside,
In a hostile flood of cold.

Silly.

When I think about it, I miss the silliest things. I mean I miss you, don't I?

Don't.

Don't act so naive,
It's painful to see,
You put up this pretence,
When I know you get it,

Don't give me that look,
Like I'm giving you shit,
I'm sure you could do it better,
Now couldn't you?

Oh and hey, don't forget,
That innocent smile,
I know that it's fake,
But it's all about consistency,

This is how it feels,

To be completely ignored,

Left on your own,

Expected to do it all,

Welcome to life,

Maybe you'll have to deal with something,

That hurts, feels real, cuts deep,

And isn't so easy.

Gravity (of the situation).

There was a weight on me,
Something pushing down,
When the sky turned grey,
And everything stalled,

In the darkness,
Under a starless sky,
I leant against a cold wall,
And wondered when you'd return,

Gravity gives tears the right,
To fall,
You gave them a reason,
To come at all,

In the darkness,
No light from the moon,
I curled under stifling warmth,
And wondered when you'd return,

Gravity gives tears the right,
To fall,
You gave them a reason,
To come at all,

I'm crumbling into tiny pieces,
Just like the absent stars,
Enough to fill the heavy sky,
To watch for your return.

Home alone.

The house is open. It smells of honey and sunshine. The jarrah floors glow with warmth. There is silence except for the breeze, a breath of sunlight in winter. Dust waltzes slowly through the air. Dappled light bounces off the blinds, glinting white and alive off the leather, the wood, the cotton. The ageing pages of a well-read book are lit in vertical stripes, the pages further yellowed by the sunlight. Sunday laziness smothers the house like a blanket.

Charming.

Fighting to escape your charm,
It’s a locket shackling my heart,
I’m caught fast in confusion,
You’ve broken in and made it clear,

Chained with the iron of willpower,
My will, I cannot defeat,
I cannot shift your hold on me,
Nor have I the key,

Your heart is hidden,
Deceived,
You’ve stolen mine,
Thieved.

Today.

I am...

tired, exhausted, sleepy, brain-dead, sluggish, fatigued, rundown, drowsy

I have been listening to the same album on repeat, all day...

down, fire, do you remember, love like this (eternity), do you, war, if i ain't got you, far away, stuck in the middle, lights off, candle light

I have...

written over 1000 words, made 7 tables, created 1 graph

It is...

that time of the year.

EXAMS.

Some more words.

"Yeah you, must have a lot of spare time,

To put down the words that you write,

But no one cares,

You should put your mind to rest..."

- Kisschasy

Yeah sometimes, I wish I could put my mind to rest.

Decisions.

The decisions that make you stop breathing in the moment you decide.

The way your head gets suddenly dizzy.

Which way's right and which is wrong? Does either exist? Neither?

It's all decisions.

They're all just thoughts and words until they're actions.

And I can't fill my lungs properly 'til then.

I hope I've chosen right.

I know I've chosen right.

Just I don't want to admit it because it hurts.

To breathe.

Watching.

Spinning, spinning, spinning,
Head a mass of thoughts,
Yet so alone,

Turning, turning, turning,
Feel a presence there,
Wish it were real,

Stare up at the sky,
Thinking of you,
Wondering if you’re staring too,

When I leave,
I’ll look at the sky,
Just in case you’re watching too.

You were supposed to catch me.

I hate that I've fallen for you,
Except that I've loved every second since I have,
I hate that I can't have you,
Except I love that you have time for me anyway,

I think you must be bad at sports,
Or your hand-eye co-ordination is out,
You know you were meant to catch me,
Right? Play the game,

So I'm falling,
But I think it's okay,
Because I'm learning how to fly.

I don't wanna care right now.

Some stream of consciousness-type writing that I did one day, on a real downer about life, with the lyrics to I Don't Wanna Care Right Now by Lupe Fiasco stuck in my head...

i don't wanna care right now i really don't i just want to worry about me and get all these other people's problems out of my head because if i really think about it i think if it was just me in my head i wouldn't have any problems and i'm really sick of all these tears hiding away and waiting to bring me crashing down really really really i just want to not care and for god's sake go away and stop talking so loud i just wanna care about me there's so much room here and you're crowding up my head where i tell you there's not much space at all in fact there's none so get the fuck out leave i think i'd like to be a tree and just watch the world go by and know there's actually nothing i can do but sit back and watch instead i've convinced myself that i can do something and so i stress and try not to cry and forget my train of thought i'm forgetting how to breathe again stop this stop this stop this and breathe i wish life was as easy as spewing these words out of my head it's not meant to be this hard i swear.

The night is still.

It is one am - again - and her eyes are open. The night is different; the night is still. Of flickers with no form and phantoms with no faces, there are none. It is his face stamped in her mind and teasing her vision. She wonders if perhaps he will appear to right her, to tell her that before was all a dream - or a nightmare - and to remind her of reality. He is her reality. Or so she dreams. He is the ghost that haunts her darkness. The elusive smile in her light.

you're like the dream i can have with my eyes open

exactly how i imagine you would be if i dreamt you to life

with you, i'm not afraid to close my eyes and let go

in my dreams, you always catch me in time

The words mean nothing, for they make no sense to anyone except her and certainly never to him. She dreams on.

The night is ice.

It is one am and she is seeing things. Snatches and blurs of motion and darkness in the corner. Real things? Chills creep over her limbs to freeze her in place. They wend their way up to her hairline, a cold pinprick in every pore of her skin. She clenches her locked fingers into fists and tells herself it is not that cold. This is a lie. The night is ice. Another flash at the border of her vision. She tells herself to go to bed, to go to sleep. How to sleep at this time? The time to fall into dreams is long gone. Nightmares threaten in the back of her mind, just daring her to close her eyes. Surrender, they whisper. She shakes her head. Perhaps her movements will cancel the phantoms, destroy the ghosts. But the truth is, she is alone. And the night is loneliness personified. The dark and the silence. The razor edge of something just out of reach and endless. The abyss. She shivers. Her eyes close and she sees nothing.

Inspiration strikes!

After having writer's block on a short story I am writing for a friend for months and months...I have finally struck inspiration! In the form of a dream. So, hopefully there will be less of these little poems being written and more in the form of prose. If anything gets done in the near future (considering how many uni assignments I am meant to be writing instead), you will see it here :)

Breaking point.

I wrote this a while ago, it is quite...depressing. And dark. Can't really remember why I wrote it, quite possibly I was slightly intoxicated...

Just a fragile shell,
Holding out this pretence,
This cover is too thin,
It clings too tight,

One day, one touch,
I'll shatter,
You'll understand my breaking point,

Breathing and then...not,
The moment focuses and fades,
I'm still holding on,
Desperate to let go,

One moment, one breath,
I'll splinter,
And you'll understand my breaking point,

Lungs are bleeding,
Eyes are closing,
Oh I know my breaking point.

Wine.

A conversation like wine,
Flowing, slipping, dripping,
Rich rich red, yellow, white,
Bittersweet and forgotten,
She murmurs into her glass,
Like that's all there is, isn't there?
Bouncing, breaking, shattering,
Even crystal becomes ugly,
It's naive at this point,
To suggest more than that.

Singing silently.

I dream in a colour undescribed,
Searching for a reason undefined,

Left alone, let them be,
These words, they run the page,
Refining meaning indelicately,

Scrawled in a text that leans to the right,
Too small, too curved for your eyesight,

You plead to know, why write these things,
But you'll never understand,
How my heart sings.

Unexpectedly there.

To my happy summer boy who knows how to make me smile...
Happiness is finally lasting,
Warm from head to toe,
Feel the shivers fading,
It's summer when you're here,

The softness of a breeze,
Waving my cares away,
Did you know you make my day?
My gorgeous summer friend,

By smiling,
Just the way you do,
Caring,
When the world forgot to,
Being,
Exactly where I need you,

The colours of a sunset,
Hot and bright and beautiful,
What scares me is the setting,
When my summer comes to an end.

My winter.

Warm inside, inspired by the rain.

In this imperfect season,

It's you who tells the pain,

Providing all the misery,

With every day of rain,

Like a bloom that needs it,

But greedy, craving more,

Face up, smiling at the clouds,

Drenched by the downpour,

Overhead a dark bright sky,

The colours tell your story,

Through the grey stifling air,

Dance carelessly in your glory.

Move.

"I dare you to move." - Switchfoot

I wonder if he knows that I would be his in a heart beat.

So, move. I dare you.

You were thinking of me, weren't you?

Musing at Matilda Bay...

A breeze whisks around me, curling and stirring,
Shivers skitter briefly across my skin, though the air is warm,
As I imagine you finding me here, thinking of you,
Of course, you will never discover the time I have spent,
The quiet moments lost in memories of you,
I wonder at how much time we all take in the day,
To occupy our minds with the ones who have taken residence there,
And are quite unlikely to leave in any time to come,
As another figure strolls towards me, in a haze of thought,
I think of what it would be to have them on my mind,
For them to come across me here and know and say,
You were thinking of me, weren't you?
To know that then; they were thinking of me too.

Time to run.

"I think I'll get outta here. Where I can run, just as fast as I can. To the middle of nowhere. To the middle of my frustrated fears." - Pink

Usually, it's the feeling of wanting to escape from your own problems that gets to you. Feeling as if the stuff in your head is too much and the problems you face are overwhelming, things you can't get away from. So you decide to run.

For me, right now, it's different. The things I want to run from, to sprint from like hell is behind me, aren't my problems. They're yours. And everyone else's.

My head is full to the brim with caring so much about everyone else that I've forgotten what my own problems were in the first place. I don't even know if I had or have any issues! They're so tangled up in other people's that I've lost track of what concerns me and what doesn't. So I'm stuck in a mire of caring and I care too much to drag myself out.

But I think I've had enough. And it's time to run.

From light, darkness.

You used to be the reason I'd smile,
How easily it all turned sour,
You'd be the one to make my day,
I feel I've crashed so far down,
I thought your hand would be there,
Always,
To pull me to my feet,
And up to where you shone the way,
You've faded now, a fallen star,
A smile faked and gaze so lost,
I wondered how it would feel,
Sometimes,
To be the one that you leant on,
The light in your darkness,
You were the glow, and now the shadow,
Casting a pall on the light you created,
To think this would happen,
Never.

How many hearts can one break.

When you shatter a heart,
There's more than just one,
To tear asunder,

It's more than one face, drenched in tears,
More than one mind, facing its fears,

Life in slow motion, rewind,
Two parts broken heart
To one part mind,

It's more than one stomach, nauseous and vacant,
More than one faith, to be shaken,

It's uncertain what's stronger, the hurt or the hate,
Or the unwanted love that lingers long after.

How to say goodbye?

"Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend. Somewhere along in the bitterness." - The Fray

Not much else can so accurately describe how I feel right now. I love The Fray for their way of putting things so eloquently. But in my own, much more brutal way...

What's happening to us?
Fuck, we're spinning apart
Tearing away, out of control
Like we never had anything in common.

Clashing like cymbals
A din like thunder
Shouting, shrieking, screaming
And it's gonna end with us split in two.

I'm saying no I swear
In my head I don't want this
I can't tell you out loud
For fear I'll whisper goodbye.

Fused.

We're fused, in that state where you can't split one into two,
Melded together, twisted and strange,
I can't get unstuck, you're me and I'm you.

You're in my smile and in my head,
We made memories,
That I'm afraid to touch, they're sticky as glue,
One touch and I'm right back there,
Fused.

Can't get away,
You're yes and I'm no,
Can't get away,
Don't tell me what I already know.

We're fused.

On monotony.

Thoughts during a lecture...
I close my eyes and dream,
Of sleeping and losing my mind,
How I, how I wish I could drift,
And lose track of the time.

The depths of a dream.

I'm trying to remember that darkness, but truthfully that's all it is, is darkness. How could it be so compelling - something to rightfully be afraid of? And yet I dream of it, hold the fragile hope in my heart that one day I will find it, or at least be able to remember it accurately. Because the only place it comes to me is in my dreams. It's all fresh, right there on the surface of my mind when I open my eyes, ready to be skimmed off and recalled. But as soon as I try to imagine it, it's gone once again.

Orphaned Ink.

It doesn't matter how often I write words down,
Because they can mean and dream all they like,
But the truth is, they're lonely and alone,
They can long and lust and lie all they like,
Without a purpose, they drift meaningless,
Just waiting and hoping for someone to call on,
The words scream frustration from the page,
Aching for the moment when eyes bring them to life,
So then I can say that I wrote them for you,
And the words have someone to call their own.

To begin.

With which I write...

To start my blog, I had best describe it. It will be a collection of thoughts written in a way that makes sense to me. And maybe some thoughts from others added in, which may make more sense than mine... But here is why I am starting the blog:

My words are searching for someone to call their own. So here they are, released from the pages I wrote them on, and maybe you'll discover the words I wrote for you.