Please

You think you could hurt me?
Well you didn’t, I swear
I didn’t spend nights crying
Prying
Myself to pieces
Like, why didn’t you care?

You think you can break me?
I call this character building
Blocks like Lego
Who I am
Kick it down
Ive got a new diagram
I rebuild myself better each time

You think you can love me?
Try harder

Please
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Falling trains


The train runs through pictures I wish would last longer
The babys crying is muted out by my music
I find myself falling in love with strangers
And dangers
The water looks so appetising from far away
And voices sound so much better
When there’s no one I’d rather around
The train feels like I’m falling
As the scenes pass from the back of my head to far away
As a good looking man winks at me from the opposite chairs
The sun is diluted by my sunglasses
I find myself uncomfortably taking up two seats
The same way I take up a double bed
Me squished, but everything else spread
My habitats look like I just disappear
Everything falls off me
Even my clothes
But dont worry… I always come back for them

Was I?

Was I just an after taste?
Of liquor and drugs
Of last nights mistakes

Was I just a lingering smell?
Cologne stuck to your sheets
Put under a spell

Was I just your walking stick?
To help you stumble
After you were sick

I never picked apart my feelings
I never ask why I chose you
I never lost sight of sailing back
Came home still loving true
But you had moved.

I am sober now
Remembering the warnings
The only person more fucked than me was you
I was calling our time together love
Because the withdrawal felt rough

I dont know how often I was sober
Or not hungover
Or fucking through the headache
Staying out and waking up late


But Ive been cutting toxins from my life
But wanting a new bender
That doesn’t fake a new forever

no creative freedom please

Everything is easier when it feels like a movie
Somethings just
sometimes,
click
into place
Like I have just directed the perfect scene
And no one has forgotten their lines

But,
Most days are chaotic
No one sticks to their script
I get lost in their mistakes
Why cant they be their characters

Most days feel like hell
Like trying to organise a group of toddlers
and all they do is yell
It feels like trying to find where you are on the wrong map
Or trying to write a message with a calculator
BOOBS and HELLO
Is all I've got

Most days I'm so tired
That my hands start to dream
And my feet melt
And my mind wanders
I pretend that I could be anyone anywhere and that it's my choice to be here and like this
And I know that it is but I don't want it to be
I want to move and change my name, and my hair, and my voice, and what I wear

this film doesn’t seem to be working out
I might just start another
And I’m hoping it doesn’t have to end, to turn around
Im always getting so close to that last full stop sound.

My room

And my room smells of alcohol again
And my room smells of me
Alone
And I really like it

There’s something comfortable about learning how to walk myself home
I’m learning how to stumble less

There’s something comforting about my responsibility only being myself

My rooms a mess
But in my defence there isn’t anywhere to hang anything and there aren’t any drawers

My room is new, but its mine and the sheets are bright white
And in the sunlight i wake up happy
I’m waking up to sunlight again
And staying in it

Don’t write

I tell myself not to write
Because I five too deep
But then, I fall
Into a world to easy to keep

Of tinder dates that fall in love or to never been seen again
Of short 6 second videos that teach me nothing or bring up pain

I tell myself not the start writing because I’ll be depressed again.

But how bad can life be
Sat here listening to quiet tv
And chatter
In one room and quiet resource
Evelyn Stein in this room
Quiet

With the sound of rain falling into the deck
And the song has now changed

to the Hymn of the sea by James Korner

And now I feel like although I don’t believe in god,
maybe a Spotify one exists.

He knows who I am better than you do
She knows what I need more that you do
They know more about me than you could ever do.

Because I am nothing but my habits,
I am nothing but my thoughts and my soul,
I am nothing but todays playlist,
I am nothing but todays goal.

dried up paint

Scraping dried up paint from under my fingernails
With a 2H
Writing shit with too many details
Its getting late

Lying down by my book
Kept company by my pencils
And my phone
But its only decoration right now

I love it when an addiction is just decor
I could be using it but I wouldn’t know what for
To pick you up
To start to scroll
But I don’t
To want to drink
A glass of wine
But I wont

To smoke a cigarette, to think about you...
But I do


I love it when I write
Because nothing really means anything
Apart from one word at a time
And everyone thinks it does
That theres a theme or a deeper meaning
That I thought about before I finished it
I didn’t
There isn’t
Its just me talking in my head
If my brain could talk
Its just the shit it woulda said
I find meaning in my writing
But I don’t write with meaning
I write with a pencil
And dried up paint