[x]

Never The Gold.I want my silver back,
I need to melt it down and forge a new connection
With someone else.
I want all the precious bits of myself
that I so willingly quarried for you.
I want my silver back.

HAIKUWRIMOCOMPLETE 2013

February 28th, 2013

Dire desperation
A feeble whimper for help;
roar of these raw times.

February 27th, 2013

Gluttonous ash cloud
sucks the moon's blood
and swallows the night.

February 26th, 2013

Bark! An explosion!
Angry bodies escape the
network of lung cells.

February 25th, 2013

Silently cloning,
multiplying, honing in,
determined to kill.

February 24th, 2013

Tea and sympathy
readily available
for my dear sister.

February 23rd, 2013

I will hold my breath
as the north wind does the same
waiting for your love.

February 22nd, 2013

He hovers behind;
Hamletian apparition.
Always following.

February 21st, 2013

A lo

The White ThingsNothing is as far away as a minute ago.
No matter how hard you row against the tide
we can never reach it, never return there.

It's hard to sleep in the light of my regrets
that creeps through curtain and barriers
to rot away and bleach all things white.

It's hard to sleep knowing that no distance
is as far away as sixty small seconds ago.
Immalleable, we rot, and things turn white.

MatterIt is only a matter of time
until the stone lays down with the sheep
and sleeps.
Rested firmly above the holes
where our eyes used to be.

It is only a matter of matter
until epitaph and eulogy diminish to dust
and sleep
becomes the eternal home,
not where our souls used to be.

It is only a matter of fact
that our words will become reductionist, redundant,
and sleepily
the world will forget
where our words used to be.

In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nib
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.

I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;

I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.

Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.

I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So

Perfect on PaperWe cut hearts
into paper to make streams
of love.
That was my impression of it.
That you ripped
off
the pieces you didn't want
until you got something that was
pretty.
It's no wonder
that I can't believe that someone
would think I was paper-perfect,
or loved.

~♥~♥~

A chance secondI lie awake, staring at the cornices.
3AM: my fingers worry at the corners of my sheet.
My anxiety worries at the corners of my rib.
I bite and tug and huff out my misery
As the silence keeps me awake.
I lay with pressure of your absence
Pressing down over my nose and mouth.
A soft asphixiation of the heart, of the sanity.
It is a hot grey night in London.

You are awake, startled by the sunlight.
7AM: you can't lift your weighty skull from the sheet.
The day sirens, but you stay, settled,
Under the weight of your shroud, your loss,
Only the silence keeps you awake.
Unknowingly, for the first time in weeks
We are unintentionally in sync;
Laid

United, We WriteHear me read it

0hgravity, if by some divine fortune you should decide that today is the day you will fail me, then let me soar through the ChemicalSkyline. Grant me a-lovely-anxiety that raises a storm InTheStarryNightSky for me to riseandbe above all else. Let me soar.

How I long to be the frail rider-on-the-storm and not a victim of the RoamingShadow, Rogue-Of-The-Night, that BlackVelvetNightmare of my nights and days. I long for awaytobefree, won't you grant it to me?

I desire to be great, to feel greatness, to be more than one of many Sad-Writers spinning Sacred-Literature into SanguineEpitaph after saturninesweetness. scarletwave of

Of Nuisance LeavesHear me read it!

Leaves clutch their ropy fingers around the tree's limbs. The zesty leeches bloom, crack open overnight and slip silently up the nearest oak or maple. They pierce the crunch of bark and penetrate deep into the rubbery veins.

They feed. They pauperize plum and peach until they are heavy and brown; heavy laden with the stolen sap.

When at last they reach their fill the tree can finally shake them off emphatically, desperately, until at last it is clean again. The tree reaches its black bones to the sky in praise and as a new year begins vows never again to be the victim of leaves.

AfterIt follows me.
My silver skeined ghost.

An almost imperceptible thread;
only visible when you shine light
directly upon it.
It follows me.

It rides the underground.
It hides under bridges,
Under trains.
It is woven into the spools of tar
that form the roads between.

Inevitably if I walk too fast
it reminds me -
Like the tug of stitches in your cheek
that reminds you; you have lost your wisdom.
It reminds me.

It trips me in doorways,
when my mind is elsewhere.
If I look away from it -
- it slips round my neck.
Another knot to throw over the beams
it mauls me without a fair chance.

I tried to sever it. I can't.

Rock BottomThey say a rolling stone gathers no moss,
so when I shudder to a halt
The rocks in my feet continue to grind.
I feel the sand in my lungs
and the regretful mist silting in my heart
as the waves come back in
reaching eagerly for my legs, spooling, churning
over me. Rooted in my misery.
I know the rocks in my feet will help me drown.

Sometimes, it's the little things.He always told me I was deep.
An unfiltered distillation of a humanitarian ocean.

He accepted me, gills and all -
He knew that I needed my eccentricities to breathe
under the seascrapers of pollution
that hung over my head.
Or he said he did.

At the end of it all,
he tugged the gills open to expose me;
my innards trailed across the coral reef
as I swam trustingly forward, hoping for the best.
I tried to believe.

I believed him, gills and all -
But eventually, he left me, with holes in my sides
Where he had spooned out my intestines
To tether them to a boulder.
I tried to breath

BuriedUnder the paprika house,
are the bones of my father
and nestled between rib
and reason, is our love.

MutantHear me read it

I am a mutant.
   | My skin does not sallow in the sun
   and I do not blush jaundice through my cheeks.
   | I do not have extra fingers, or toes -
   although my spine;
      it boasts an ironic vertebrae,
      it is a long tally of the hearts I have broken
      and when I straighten my spine the bones Pop out of place.

Finding Neverlove - Draft OneHear me read it

I have never loved you.
I did not love you since the day we met,
I did not love you the moment
I looked into your beautiful eyes.

I have never loved your soft voice
As it whispers my name in adoration
And I have never loved the look in your eyes
When you look at me.

I don't love your hair,
Or the way you look in the morning,
Half asleep and vulnerable and shy.
I do not love you.

I did not love you at the first touch,
At the first kiss.
I did not love you the first time,
Or the second time,
Or the last time;
Not even then.

Listen to me carefully -
I have never loved you.
I will never love you.
I will not love you until my

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Elenor Rigby - Draft One /You are not alone, Sweet Elenor,
Though we may never speak your name.
We are all alone, Sweet Elenor
and we disappear again.

We are biting tongues, Oh Elenor
and fighting to break through
We are beating hearts, Oh Elenor,
They're beating them for you

and though you may not hear me, Elenor
and though you may never know
I need you to believe me, Elenor
Your more loved than the world will show.

Tired, brave and sad, is Elenor,
She's so alone and blue
My surname is Rigby, Elenor,
Maybe yours is too?

They don't know your name, my Elenor,
The thousands locked in pain,
But they're Rigby born and bred, by Elenor,
We are all the sam

Awkward 8 - Draft One /If you share your thoughts professionally, as I do, knowing that others will empathise, its a terrible thing to realise that your brain doesn't function the way other people's do.

Suddenly everything you write is putting you at risk - what if today I write the thing that gets me put away? What if tomorrow you see me for the freak that I am?

Well, what if?

Awkward 7 - Draft One /There is something profoundly difficult (and circular) about relationships when you are mentally ill. More challenging than any other kind of boundary between two people – is the one you create for yourself. When you hurt yourself, you hurt the person who loves you. When you hurt, you know you are hurting the person you love, so you hurt more. It all builds up into a cycle of feeling bad and hurting the person you want to be happy.

You end up doing the stupidest things and convincing yourself its 'for their own good'.

Sometimes I push Nick until he cries. I push him away and try so hard to make him give up. I haven't done it in years,

Awkward 6 - Draft One /I'm finally getting over my stinking cold which has not been doing great things for my mood. It'll be a relief to go back to somewhat normalcy. This week has been stressful for me. Constant reminders of my dependence on my mother (my care giver) have made me sad and restless.

Financially things aren't great at the moment, they will sort themselves out, they always do – but I wish I could do more.

I want a part time job, but what kind of a job would I be any use for? I am terrified of people! Perhaps I can work stacking shelves at Tesco. There's a problem with that, my perpetual laziness. Still, bills are bills. Perhaps they shall motiv

Awkward 5 - Draft One /I have not been so unlucky in life as to have been denied a sense of humour. Except on the blackest of days things can still make me laugh or smile. That is something to be grateful for. Where would I be without Jasper sliding across the laminate flooring into a wall? Or Kathy and Omri discussing the culinary merits of Easy Bake Ovens?

I have not lost everything in life, I know that. I am, even, some days grateful. Today is not one of those days.

I have cabin fever. Not the film, I haven't seen that. I'm not a big fan of horror – I tend to prefer romantic comedy, something to distract my mind from the constant circuitous worrying.

I a

Awkward 4 - Draft One /The most important thing in my life (note I said thing, not person) is my internet connection.

There are days when I don't eat, days I don't shower, months I don't leave my house – but every day has the internet in it. It is my only form of communication.

When I am in trouble it's how I call for help, it's how I express myself, it's how I live, cooped up in this tiny little box of exposed wires and razors.

Today that internet was disconnected. It's not the end of the world (luckily) I have another internet connection for back up. I can't use skype or second life for a week or two but I can survive.

But just as if I didn't have my bac

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Scars

by `KathrynODriscoll, Feb 20, 2013, 1:26:41 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

See the sharpness of my tongue-nib
As the metallic taste in my mouth draws out
A barking cough, forced out
By the dirty nicotine lining my lungs.

See the blade of stubbornness
That slices across my cheek bone;
An amalgamation of all the times you pushed me.

See the residue in my eyes,
The remnants of all those times you forced me
And I forced myself not to cry;
Those tears condensed into a thick blinding syrup
That colours all things red.

See the crinkle in my nose,
The wrinkles on my heart
As I remember how you didn't love me. (Don't love me).

See the burns on my psalms
And fingerprints singed off
By all the times you called me nothing.

See the manacles, the barnacles
The mutations and tumours.
See the invisible scars of the Battle of Us.

Scarsby `KathrynODriscoll

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

There are capitalisation issues here because I'm posting this from a cafe. Will edit them later today or tomorrow.

I wrote this thinking about all the invisible scars I have from past relationships. How I respond quite strongly if someone tries to emotionally manipulate me because of a relationship in which I was emotionally abused. How I don't really like sex because of a relationship in which I was forced. How I have all the remainder of all the bad parts of those relationships still swimming around in my lungs.

It prompted this and another poem which I will work on later.

I dunno. Just regrets.

love 1 1

joy 1 1

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

sad 1 1

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~sherbetblooms Feb 27, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Terribly sad. I know what this is like and it feels good to leave them behind in your writings. 3rd strophe was my fave.

`KathrynODriscoll Feb 28, 2013 Student Writer

Mines the last.

~Kazul9 Feb 25, 2013 Writer

Oh, wow.

I'm sorry this reflects what's actually happened to you. You did an absolutely beautiful job expressing it, though. Thank you for sharing.

`KathrynODriscoll Feb 26, 2013 Student Writer

Thank you for your positive response

~Kazul9 Mar 1, 2013 Writer

X3 You're welcome!

~shehrozeameen Feb 23, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

... *oww*... You've come a long way... This work prompted me into reading the comment you gave me earlier... which was your biography (an answer to a journal entry whose title I can't remember).

Its subtle, and definitely something which requires some time to digest. For the most part, though - its a brave work.

`KathrynODriscoll Feb 23, 2013 Student Writer

Nods, thank you so much, goodness. I am speechless.

~shehrozeameen Feb 23, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

*hug* stay happy.

*Michaeldavitt Feb 21, 2013 Professional Writer

This resonates with me, one question was it the Biblical Psalms that were burned?

I hope you find better relationships in the future so you can write about the bright side

`KathrynODriscoll Feb 23, 2013 Student Writer

The psalms thing mainly happened because when ~DeaconStrucktor faves any of my literature he puts it in a folder called Psalms and Sermons and its been in my mind for a couple of weeks, and this play on the two meanings here seemed fitting.

I have plenty of poems about the bright side

it's a pretty even split I think.

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