I want the sun to descend on me
and boil my blood
so every atom screams
and fades away.

I want the black ocean
to swallow me
and rend me limb from limb
as food for sharks.

I want the wind
to lift me from this cold earth
and batter my body
on jagged mountain peaks.

I want my soul
to tear me open from inside
and make it's great escape.

What I really want is
a shy breeze to flicker in my ear
the secrets of an open heart
and quiet mind.

hold up a second,
My mind is stuck on one thought,
And it has been the last week
But i don't feel like writing about it,
*I would write for days.

Running. Across the open green,
Mindlessly chasing, to what would seem
Like a pebble to this small world,
Nobody that knew him,
Could say his story was untold,
Because I could love to tell it,
Since I was two years old.

Every Saturday morning,
A stench filled the air,
One that was as awakening,
As a surprise that was so unfair.
It was him, cooking while we remained sound asleep,
It didn't really bother him,
He was the provider of this keep.

One won't realize what they have,
Until it is gone, o so gone.
He was the best dad,
That words unspoken toward him, couldn't even fawn.

OK lads and lassies we're going to take a walk, just 10 short miles
in that forest over there
WHAT!!!! Yes I know its dark and gloomy but then some forests are
but there's nothing there to harm you, nothing there to fear
I see you have the rucksacks I told you all to bring. Right folks
open them up and we'll see whats contained within
Ah theres no surprise at what you've got in yours, a tiny flask a magazine and your lucky rabbits paw.( Obviously it wasnt lucky
for the rabbit)
In yours just a make up bag now that'll really do some good,
at least you'll still look beautiful when your dying in the woods
Right lets take a look at what I've got in mine, a 10 x 8 tarpaulin
and a ball of nylon twine
Ah yes a survival knife the handle holds a flint for striking fire,
and in this bag 3 snares each 18 inches of supple wire
Now this small tin contains my means to stay alive, 2 small containers of lint from in my tumble dryer, perfect tinder for
making fire
This little brass things with holes in the top is my small trangia
cooker
2 ounces of spirit poured in there gives 15 minutes of fire
A picnic blanket aint much use if your stranded in the woods, well this one is because the underside is completely waterproof
This old tin mug has served me many times as a makeshift
cooking ***
A litre bottle of water and it weighs 15 pounds the lot
So heed the lessons carefully,  it might help you to survive
Carry the 15 pounds that I do and you might stay alive

-the raindrops remind me of waking up on 4th of July feeling lonely.
-my sheets whisper your name everytime i dare to move. i ache.
-my last text from you was 8.12.13
-You are beautiful. and i am sad. We will never work out.
-sometimes i wear red lipstick to see my psychiatrist. I just want to feel strong.
-i sleep for 14 hours and wake up tired.
-the ghosts in my room tug on my curls. they remind me of You.
-i feel tainted.
-oh god, oh god, oh god.
-whilst i sleep the waves rush over my head. i feel peace.
-there have been bugs in my veins since the last time we slept together.
-i am nothing, i am nothing, i am nothing.
-i have been using clever words so You will think i still have a brain.
-i sit in the bath until it turns grey to remind myself that i am dirt.
-i can not be a self love poem.
-You left me drunk and naked everytime.
-i am the beginning of a long, cold winter.
-i am a snowflake amongst sunflowers and children playing.
-Pain. Pain. Pain.
-the ringing in my ears has gotten louder since You said You missed me.
-i will never be Sylvia Plath.
-these walls scream out my secrets.
-i would like to be naked Polaroids and cocktails
but i am £2.31 white wine and ugly obscenities.
-i am an increase of prozac.
-You always mentioned your hate for winter.
-i will crave you for eternity.
-the earth will tremble like my voice. hands. eyes.
-this rain will last forever.

Sometimes all we need
Is to go back in time

I dreamt of the forgotten
old pages covered in dust
thought I had thrown out
those pages within those
walls of forgetfulness
indelible now remembered
and placed back in their covers
catalogued and cleansed
of any false belief -
any misunderstanding

Have you ever thought
Our
Memories would be held here
Everytime I think about it, I can't help but cry