It's a yes.

I was tickled silly yesterday,
It's hitting home today;
Could this be my answer?

I feel so naughty.

This could be it.

It only ever last seconds
As time is all relative,
Destination established, dear,
The route is a broken nothing,
It's still the same.
So, somebody tell me,
Are we a circle of stubborn
Or is this an unbreakable knot?
Will it only ever last seconds,
Or will the seconds be infinite?

So, we're back here again.
It's starting to make even more sense now.
You're, once again, breaking my heart now.
I'm terrified that I'll always love you now.

Marry, if the key is at my fingertips,
Tickle me silly tomorrow.

Bible-basher.

And though my Prince may hold my hand, my King will always hold my heart.

Here we go again.

Still the fickle folds origami,
Creases in tears of laughter,
Investing love is investing life,
Seek first the kingdom,
Easier said than done like 'I love you';
I never did see.
So let it all go, let it all be,
The future is for me.
Wake me when I'm home,
Thou will not judge,
As you snigger and scoff.

eth orf.

f4m.

Jesus is not a flatterer, he is a lover.

I shall immerse myself in your love.
I shall saturate myself in your grace.
I shall soak myself in your mercy.

To be a quirky, little glow that you'll remember.
Who will captivate your heart,
And ruffle up your hair,
Then kick up my heels and skip away,
Because it's so much more free than walking.
To flutter with my lashes and my soul.
In hopeless adoration of the Saviour King,
I'll sing with all my heart,
At the top of my lungs,
Because why whisper His praises, hey?

This is who I will be.
Fight for me.

Why don't you be the artist?

A crystal sort of distance is humming in the atmosphere,
Pulsing in the vibrations of space between you and I,
Flashing hazy gazes in directions to be captured
Whilst holding to ignorance of the shadowy truth,
This tangible gap, repelling heart from heart,
Knowing, frustrating, this is how it has to be,
Feeling the lies of nothing, forcing an aura of hope,
A sigh can speak a thousands words simply left unsaid,
So, he will emanate wit and she will laugh along,
When you look then I must look far away,
Waiting for the empty vortex of minutes and hours
As irrelevant seconds flick through your eyes,
Can you feel it? The gritted teeth and broken hearts...
Two souls singing solo, together.

Another minute with you.

I can't wait to start living;
I'd forgotten that I never could remember.
I know not who I am, hence
Not what to do with this,
The pursuit of pursuing something,
How did I end up here?
Time does not make it easier, just fuzzier.
Here I go again, don't hold my gaze;
That's all it takes.

He's so hilarious. And lovely.

They don't know what you said,
Your dirty little words burn thighs
And break silly girls hearts,
Gonna wallow and swallow pride,
Hold my tongue (unlike you) -
Go forth and aphorize, lies
All lies; It's too fast, see,
I know you young man.
See you in the pit, old friend;
I'll wait for you there.


Sorry. I'm tired. And in Limbo.
I'm apologising to the world, though.
Not to you.

Child-ery.

It's a scar that's sticking hard and fast
To the my fleshy silhouette, so tight
And cheap and trashy too, this metaphor,
My loaded gun in your lustful hands,
Never the trigger pulling kind, right?
Need to shake this aura over lover,
Not be defined by what you did,
Got to practice what I preach, promise
To let this, softly, let this go, but
I'm that girl now, you know the one -
Yes, you know the one. The cheated upon.

Rose. (With an accent)

So, I'm a little dizzy from the pink stuff,
But the truth is - And we all know it's true -
I can't take my eyes, or my mind, off of you.
Till I find somebody new?
It's the same rain falling from the sky,
It's a cycle, you see. From the sky to the sea,
And then back again. Always back again.
Look at me like you believe in this.
Promise me with your fingertips
As they stroke my hips, lustfully.
I can hear the strings when I gaze at you.
Come sit on my wall.
Cheers.

That's not tomorrow

That I don't know what you're saying,
I'm ok with that,
That I don't know where you're going,
I'm ok with that,
That I don't know who you're seeing,
I'm ok with that.

That's not tomorrow,
You've got to need me,
Nothing less than ache for me near,
That's not tomorrow,
You've got to fight for me,
Nothing less than blood on your beautiful hands.

That I don't know why you're crying,
I'm ok with that,
That I don't know how you're living,
I'm ok with that,
That I don't know when you're changing,
I'm ok with that.

That's not tomorrow,
You've got to need me,
Nothing less than ache for me near,
That's not tomorrow,
You've got to fight for me,
Nothing less than blood on your beautiful hands.

All that is left is the dehydrated tears,
The kisses that linger, the long forgotten fears,
Remember the good times, they'll crumble away,
When you're tasting the scent of the sweetest one day.

My sister...

...is hilarious. She has written this song and typed up the lyrics on the laptop. I thought I'd take a sneaky look and it's so funny! I just have to share it. Don't tell her though; she'd kill me!


--



When your mum's being mean it's such a pain.
When MY mum's being mean it's so lame.
The one thing that really drives me insane.
Is when my mum lets me down like Wayne.

Just like England did to me.

Now my mum is, you know what I mean.

Such a pain in the beep.

But I'm not going to weep.

I'll just storm off and sit in the rain.

Now she's calling me a brat.
But she knows she's the only brat.
And because she's so annoying
I really feel like storming...
and stealing all of her tat!

Just like England did to me.

Now my mum is, you know what I mean.

Such a pain in the beep.

But I'm not going to weep.

I'll just storm off and sit in the rain.



When mum is a pain
Sang by Victoria Slade
Written by Victoria Slade
Inspired by mum's annoyingosity
Used on OpenOffice writer
Written in Victoria Slade's house

It's been a week...

The breeze in my heart is a compromise,
Build bridges of dust with your sorrowful eyes,
Time is a void with no hands and no feet,
That crumbles in darkness and freezes in heat,
Tint the glass, peer long at the ebony sky,
Hold it tight, hold it fast and it's not a goodbye,
You yearn deep inside for your hearts desire,
No passive embrace of a hope to aspire,
If you stutter the words from your ivory lips
Think not you will beckon, think not to eclipse,
To smog up the sapphire song of my soul,
Your words will not fit into virgin keyhole,
Now just fall asleep, go ahead, dream away,
And when you awake, well then you can say,
For now feels forever when all you can see
Is not how it is, but how it could be.

Fickle fence

Would you follow after my footsteps in the sand,
Though they may lead to the deepest ocean?
Would you smile and hold tight to the dust scattered
As I ran towards my dreams and destiny?
Would you know that my heart's ambition
Is worth more than your earthly desires?
Would you retell the tale of how we began,
Though flawed and imperfect it may be?
Would you swear that your heart always knew,
Though your head may have doubted me?

And do you know who I am when I'm trembling,
When I'm wishing that you could understand?
And do you know who I am when I touch your arm
For the electricity of your spirit?
And do you know who I am, that I would forfeit me
For the smallest piece of who you are?
And do you know who I am as I capture your gaze
Just so it feels like you're holding me some way?
And do you know who I am that I've lost myself
In searching for you?

And do you want to know? Do you want to know?

Let's repeat the past...

'And yet there was something gorgeous about him. Some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, a romantic readiness such as I've never found in any other person and which it is not likely I'll ever find again.'
--

"Listen, sweetie, you've got to see,
What you love, you must set free,
Don't clasp it tight or you'll draw blood,
That's merely heartache, it's not love"

A convenant of initimacy forges diamond chains,
Shall suffocate your precious little heart with
Memories, words and the way he said your name,
His plain, alluring face of wispy, heartfelt lies,
For no reason but your gorgeous hope,

Your pretty face, the substance of your faith,

He will wrap you in his arms of gold and

Swear he'll never let you go.

That is not his promise to make.

Is this an enviable quality?

Congratulations.

Love; The emotion you can feel in parallel with all other emotions.

---

Love and Joy.
Love and Peace.
Love and Happiness.
Love and Pain.
Love and Jealousy.
Love and 'Oh-my-goodness-I-can't-take-this-anymore!-What-did-I-do-to-deserve-this?'

---

'And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears and love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears. Get over your hill and see what you find there, with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.'

Roll on the flowers, thanks.

Like the wind

Like the wind I will whisper,
A rainbow deep with love,
Intricately listen to syllables,
The sounds and shapes of my lips,
These are more than just words,
This is all I know, and though
I may not be Lady Wisdom,
I softly brush your cheek,
As a promise, a covenant,
I always have and will be here,
Like the wind that warmly whispers,
A rainbow deep with love.

Romans 8:31

Seventeen, but not of the world.
The meretricious? Meaningless;
Or so you wish to be. Hold on.
Your insidious plan of freedom;
Oxy moron at it's finest.
Be not bitter, broken, burnt -
Be you.

Amen.

Ultimately, He is above all else.
Though all may crumble, He shall remain.
(I say silly words; I do silly things.
I am as sorry as is humanely possible.
If I broke your heart, I apologise.)
He opens flowers, oceans and hearts.
Glory to no other.

Try Him for security, good people.
Afterall, He created it.

Voodoo.

You're dangerously beautiful,
I draw back in fear.
You're cautiously imperfect,
I hold you far too dear.
My smile in correlation with
The way you say my name,
And with a single syllable,
My body you shall maim.
You're menancingly eloquent,
I'm lost in your refrain.
You're perilously charming,
I'm your voodoo doll again.

Wink

Every sheet of glass is shattered,
Reflecting the spectrum in your eyes,
A transfixed gaze you hold
Tightly now, don't let me go,
Whispers we pretend we cannot feel
In every fibre of our being,
Every beat of our heart and soul,
Somehow it isn't getting old,
Though we've seen this all before,
My grace is wasted in your hand,
But you'll chew through again,
Nothing left but blood and water,
And the spit from your dummy,
We're loving hating the drama of it all.

I hold onto your words
Like gold dust from your lips,
Don't dress this up with
Trappings of love, dear,
It's ok now, your presence
Is enough for me;
You've got me on a string.

Traded in.

There's a snapshot in my mind,
Moving stills of that night,
In the chaos I ignore it but
When all is still, it flickers,
Just jigsaw pieces in my hands
Like polaroids of lustful lies,
They hum as they flash, flash,
Flash such clarity, how can I see
Something so clearly, that my
Eyes never witnessed? Well,
My heart plays it on loop,
You can't see, my spirit hovering
Outside the realms of time
I see your pouted lips, pressed
Upon something you've wanted;
Always wanted chestnut locks
Haven't you, my handsome?
Superficial it may be, you cannot say
It isn't me. I don't believe you.

I told you so.

I will only ever be a stepping stone,
Never the destination.

Near death experience.

So, this is a broken heart.
I'm glad you got a beautiful one.
I was never enough.
So, this is a broken heart.
It makes me scared of myself.
I wonder what I might do...

Long for me.

My milky yearning for you is always growing:
Longing for a subtle touch of soft skin, smooth
My locks from my rosy cheeks, press your lips
Cool against mine, so sultry, dusty pink with
A shimmer of sunshine in your eyes, count
Every pearl around my neck, know them all
By name, like the stars in the sky, whisper to the
Moon your secrets of daylight rainbows, fall
Deeper, into the echo of my eyes, bouncing
Lightly in the nooks and crannies of me, remember
The pastel colours as I blink away your
Gaze, scramble for the caramelised wonder of
Essence never sought before, virgin to the
Love for who I am inside, dribbled words like
Honey from your tongue, that traces every line,
Twirling along pure pathways, never seen before,
Steps never danced before, shower you in glitter
Like a thousand diamonds; this is my love,
This my longing: you long for me.

Ebbs and Flows

Life is a wispy one,
a hollow she, filled by you,
filled by me.
She ebbs and flows
so cautiously, to and fro
and inbetween.
She is the tide,
twirling from the hovering heart
that is the moon,
a beckoning and ushering
of everything, yes
everything you see.

Your outstretched arms retract
when one draws closer,
quite naturally.
But with such grasp comes freedom,
when in hold, may you see,
though you may leave,
and I may miss you,
it's all relative, in such beauty.
For if you should never leave,
then I should never know,
how wonderful,
how magical,
how imperfect, dear,

you are.

At the end of the rainbow...

I can see the rainbow from where I stand,
Shivering in the heat of your absence,
With your floral promise in my hand, so ready,
Ready to blossom with the spring, I grasp,
Grasp you tightly with my heart, with a
Stubborn sort of beauty, I cling, holding you
By letting go, twirling to the pot of gold,
The lovely little lady in me, fluttering for
The spice of life, of love, of secrets never told.
I hope you feel this too.

No 'L' word.

I like to be alone with you,
To hold your hand in our special way,
Kissing your little words,
The ones that untangle my knotted heart,
Hearing your heart beat soft;
I don't need to listen very hard,
As our worries float above our heads,
For moments just in the space,
Without the dissonant philosophy,
Or simple misunderstanding,
Falling into you, contently,
Smelling your aura of uncertainty,
So familiar to the voices in my head,
Sharing your wonder of the world,
The way we do, you know?
I like to be alone with you.

Shipwreck?

So this monster with the orbs of green
More fatal than it once did seem,
Contagious leaking yellow veins,
Numeric dominance still reigns,
Go forth and feed the biting jaw
Hot, sweaty air that will allure
Questions to soothe a burning heart,
Pacified not by truth for start,
I know not of the feeling 'still'
Echoing, so sweet and shrill:
Am I the rescue or lost at sea?
Am I goal over obstacle or is obstacle me?

Caramel

Simple surface you is suffice
For the crowd's guilty blue eyes,
The dusted icing of the cake
With layers beyond reach,
The half-full, broken smile of pink,
blowing hollow pouted lies,
The succulence of honesty
A trait you cannot teach.
Canned laughter echoes in your ears
Triggered by your longing lips,
My silence is a knowledge
That resonates within your mind,
Brick by brick you crumble as
Your integrity water drips, but
You so deeply long to please them
That you leave my love behind.
I'll always be the sideline girl
In a crowded, empty room,
Shuddering with your destiny -
Such familiar red beauty,
Holding steadfast to your promises,
O' to focus and assume
Upon all your love of yesterday,
When alone, then it is me.

Hush little baby

The sunset has seen this all before
As I gaze with blue despondence
Into her spectrum of hope -
Why do I only hum a sort-of-beauty
That the naked orb beholds,
Whilst you effortlessly pacify
The scarred and broken souls?
Excuse me, I asked you a question
Of which I expect an answer. Oh.
So you glow in mellow silence,
Maybe this is your prerogative;
Hush little baby, don't you cry...

Crush'd

Miss, Miss, he's just stolen my pencil,
He's chewing off the rubber,
He's blunting the sharp lead.
Miss, Miss, he's just hit me in the arm,
He's left a big red mark,
He's happy that it hurt.
Miss, Miss, he's just eaten my cupcake,
He's swallowing the chocolate,
He's spitting out the sprinkles.
Miss, Miss, he's emptied my PE bag,
He's stamping on my t-shirt,
He's spitting on my trainers.
Miss, Miss, he's copying my homework,
He's tearing up the worksheet,
He's hiding all my answers.
Miss, Miss, I think I'm in love with him.

No offence if this is your Nan

So, I was on the train today, after listening to a poetry reading and Q&A with Sophie Hannah, who is a really good poet actually, albeit slightly brash in her opinions, and I was in a poetic-ey, literature-ey frame of mind, if you will, when my bubble was burst by a everyday bolshy elderly lady. Despite the somewhat negative aura around this poem, it did actually make me laugh and I really enjoyed the journey home due to the oxy moron. To further the irony, Sophie Hannah then actually got onto the same train and sat opposite her and I was (symbolically?) sat between the two of them. So yeah, this isn't a metaphor:

She hushes her voice in stage whisper
As she dilutes my mind's epiphany,
Just moments ago I was melting away
In what truly this sweet world could be.
Of art and of love and of pleasure and
Of all sprinkles of relative sin,
That her passive gossip cannot father
Or to such beauty even begin.
Her coffee coated face was laced
With her self-diagnosed intellect,
Her visage promised penniless secrets
Of Betty, Marie or Jeanette.
So thank you for melting my dreamworld
With the tale of tapping the Milkman,
Despite this you did actually make my day,
No offence if this is your Nan.

This is my Limbo.

This is my limbo.
Frozen between the heat.
This is my limbo.
Broken and incomplete.
This is my limbo.
Shiver as you touch.
This is my limbo.
Your presence all too much.
This is my limbo.
It could just be safe bet.
This is my limbo.
But I cannot forget.
This is my limbo.
How you hold my hand.
This my limbo.
The tide is touching sand.
This is my limbo.
I'll never decipher he.
This is my limbo.
But he has deciphered me.
This is my limbo.
Every heartbeat true.
This is my limbo.
Am I in love with you?

Moses Metaphor

The sea is scarlet before my eyes,
Your whispers emanate to sighs,
Egyptian eyes burn through my back,
Singe integrity, which I lack,
The miracle kiss from my true love,
Sent by angels, he above
Has dissected the sea of natural form,
Now in two halves she lies, forlorn,
So I can run, can skip, can dance,
All I must do is seize this chance,
To dissolve amongst the deep red sea,
To find myself, completely free,
But who are you, Egyptian soul?
What if it's you who'll make me whole?
For now my toes they kiss the rim,
But still my heart is crying: 'Him!'.

March

My heart left me a message
on my answering machine,
she said she's on her way back home
a place she's barely seen.
I'm terrified for her return
as days creep slowly by,
the question isn't how she is,
the question's simply: Why?
The stars are softly whispering,
the midnight smile is near;
at the thought of finding who I am
my soul shivers with fear.

I don't understand;
I was happy with being broken -
what changed?

Nearly seventeen

There is a fizzy little memory
that echoes in my brain,
It tinkles on the dinky keys,
the dominant sustain,
You ponder on the wondrous
of my dainty, naive hold,
but one thing that I promise you:
My love shall not grow cold.
I'll dance within the heartache,
I shall frolic through the woe;
I grant you - It is silly, but
I shall not let you go.

So maybe I am puerile in the
science of your smile,
maybe this is what she did,
what they've done for a while,
but let me be the guileless girl,
the devoted inbetween,
let me be your one day she,
your besotted sweet sixteen.
You never know, the pedal could
be pressed firm to the floor;
The tinkle on the dainty keys
could sustain forevermore.

Microwaved Milk

When you microwave your milk

make sure you stir away the skin,

the proteins will protect the juice,

emulsion is a sin -

At least before you tie the knot,

which with milk will be so bold;

you cannot simply wait a while

until your mug is cold.

The sickly sweet synthetic feel

will tremble on your lips,

your mind's natural reflex will be:

'Cease mouth! No more sips!'

So boy, please do not argue that

you simply cannot stop,

if you must, then tie your hands with milk

or scream from a rooftop:

'This lady is too beautiful

for me to comprehend!'

Then seize your milky proteins and

her heart begin to mend.

-

Worry not world, I intend not to 'dial-it-down' as they say. This is just me, holding a mirror to my optimistic present state. Not that you were worrying...

She said I was beautiful.

Isn't it great when you read a poem or hear lyrics to a song and they perfectly articulate the feelings inside of you, both affirming to you that you're not alone in your insanity and prompting you to exhale? Yes? Well, I think it is. And Imogen got me good when she sang:

'Where do we go from here?
How do we carry on?
I can't get beyond these questions...

Clambering for the scraps in the shatter of us collapsed
that cuts me with every could-have-been

Pain on pain on play repeating
with the backup, makeshift life in waiting

Everybody says time heals everything
but what of the wretched hollow?
The endless in between
are we just going to wait it out?

There's nothing to see here now,
turning the sign around
We're closed to the earth 'til further notice

A stumbling cliched case,
crumpled and puffy faced
Dead in the stare of a thousand miles.

All I want, only one, street level miracle
I'll be an out and out, born again, from none more
cynical

And sit here cold, we will be long gone by then
In lackluster, in dust we layer on old magazines,
fluorescent lighting sets the scene
in the one life that we've got

And sit here
Just going to wait it out
And sit here cold
Just going to sweat it out
Wait it out'

Sometimes I wish I couldn't act. Or that someone cared:

A lady bathed a compliment
Within my salty eyes,
Though she saw not the reverence
Like fleeting fireflies
Dancing about my aching orbs,
Such pain they did educe,
For nothing lasts forever, dear,
I beg, be not obtuse.
My feet may tap in rhythm,
Yes, I may snow a smile,
But the sickly milky realism
Bubbles all the while.
These tears will evaporate,
My head I'll hold up high,
And he will always have a key
Though I may know not why.

I wish...

Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it.

I wish to be like you -plural.
Comfortable in sweaty skin.
Your fingers intertwined
tingle my spine. Hello?
Scrambling for the egg shell,
the crumbled inclusive pronoun.
'Ticket home, please' I'll say
and they'll laugh in my face
because I should know by now;
Shouldn't I?
I wish to be like you - plural.
Comfortable in sweaty skin.

A chocolate from the box.

I painted my fingernails when you left
A pinkish-tint of la-la-la.
I polished my heart, I tried to scrub it clean,
but your fingerprints are indelible -
or so it seems.
I'll go cherry picking when the season comes
but for now I'll just be still,
lulled to sleep with the transition of us to me;
I wonder why the varnish doesn't chip,
even after all this time?
Maybe it hasn't been long...

It wasn't even a kiss goodbye.

Limbo

The wispy sort of silence
shone from morning's crisp, raw rays
was floating in the semblance
amongst their lover's daze.
It prickled every speckle
of dust that danced the room,
emanating luscious vigor
of rural passion to resume.
The nude upon the cool walls
did reflect upon their skin,
as they lay in rosy symmetry
that bloomed from their within.
Their wordless rainbow whispers
trickled, juicy from their lips,
in soft secretive flutters
that iced their mind's eclipse.
The science was against them,
as to all humans it be so,
so in sweetly senseless stillness
they let their hearts beat to and fro.
This be the peachy limbo
the blessed inbetween;
I feel your pretty jealousy
to endure this empty dream.

Billet-doux

Dear Valentine,
Your scarlet rain, it only falls
When your appetite is high;
I wonder why I fall for you
Despite your every lie.
The truth is that: I love you, so-
I know you know it's true,
I wish that I could harness hate,
I'd love to hate, so you.
Love...
x

Jackpot

I'll bear my heart, though one may profane
It most naive in it's splendid youth,
For, of what I can discern with sanguine qualm,
It be true to itself in resonate hope,
Sustaining beneath the better knowledge
Of a wisdom far exceeding the bitter longing
That fuels it's fruitless course, or so it seems.
My honeyed desire be only this, my sweet:
That one should thirst for the juice,
The syrupy elixir of my very vitality,
With a longing 'O but a mere millionth as amply
As I yearn for thee; pray, grant me this?
Why, who do I seek to fool? Such a thing
Cannot be asked for and readily received
In earnest agreement upon a covenant
Spoken for mutuality, no, it be not so.
Prithee, spare me the seasonal seeking of
Affirmation, of which you so frequently require,
For you do know as well, if not more, than I
Myself that I will be enchanted by your
Spell as a butterflies wings do flutter for
The rays of sunshine that swim from the heavens.
You know, and it pains me that I know so
That you know, for it leaves me pondering
The very essence of my wishing upon stars.
You, you are every star that shines in the
Midnight sky, twinkling above me in majestic
Perfection, such indelible, majestic perfection.
So, I do beseech you, if thou hast but any Love
in thine heart, towards the one who is myself,
If it be that of the long ago or a simultaneous
'One day', spare me your beauty for a while.
With every breath you steal, I must capture
one more; I am losing time - you are my time.
And you tick and you tock in my mind,
And I watch you, leaving me behind.

How dare you say: 'Don't let me go' -
I cannot deny you anything,
So, here I am.

Mr Cacographic

The stitching is frayed on
my patchwork pillow heart,
formed of fabricated memory,
threads of your merciless art.
Your nimble hands picked
free the words you'd sewn,
piercing my core with promises
that heightened my alone.
A needle in your hand, my love,
is worth nothing in the shrub;
like stardust stolen from
the sky, shattered by a cherub,
who, with his golden arrow
plucks such beauty from the sky,
and sprinkles it upon the earth,
diluted by human eye.
The textiles of my essence is
enthralled by who you are,
this glittering, this glistening
mere reflection of your star.
And all you have to do is smile
to entice this sibilance;
Grant me: Be I, the slender dream
girl of whom you sing, perchance?
The fibre of your spirit drowns
me deep in dainty dazzle,
I long to true decipher the
mosaic engraving of your easel.
As I box away the cushion, synoymous
to your serendipity,
something inside you reaches out
to the flutter within me.

How do you do this?
Or are you doing anything at all?

My Dream...

So, I had another pretty horrible dream last night (I've been having a few too many lately) and I can't get it out of my head. It was so metaphorical to my life that I feel like it was trying to tell me something - or maybe I'm just over analysing, again? Anyway, I had to write something about it to get it out of my head as best as possible. So here you go, an insight into the on goings of last night in my head:


Embraced by the silent kiss
that consciousness does miss,
as it be the very paradox
the mortal heart unlocks.
Evoked, a certain beautiful
of which the naked apple
eye could never quite behold;
enter imagination's threshold -
Your fleshy force is merely
matter of which I've closely
analysed, reformed by the power
of my being, with such azure
that I drift into a wonder
of your lightening, your thunder;
is it you who I can see
or is it the reflection of me?

I feel that I can feel you
so I feel that this is true,
with visage I see before my gaze
the bitter flower, she decays.
So, I lose my dainty sense
within your beauteous beam, hence
you begin to cast your spell
grasping your poisoned pastel.
Go ahead and warmly whisper
the triple that does blister
such vivacious virgin relish
as you titter at the foolish.
Then rip from me your promise
that dulls the pretty blueness
of my eyes that do exalt
the man who burns default.

And you say:

'This is what we do,
we make mistakes,
we birth regrets,
and then I run away
until the day
I return. And you,
you will be there...'

'ere right, you.

You, you are the same bubble of existence
who floated betwixt my heart and head,
mocking the just naivety that my ticker did possess.
Your smile it still haunts your pretty little face,
in the same way it once did, but my sweet
soul does deduce that feeble be your attempt.
You do hold your limbs the very same with
courteous contempt to all of which is logical;
You never did believe you were made for here.
Your words they melt from your feverish passion
that lies within, dripping, oozing the promises
of tomorrow, of which even you are uncertain.
You, you plundered a touch of lips; she did not
belong to you, not anymore, you let her go
and whispered away your woe - remember?
Your magic seduces her, enchants her so,
with such intense embrace that she drowns
in denial; see how she alters the pronouns?
You made her this way, O'you made her this way,
with your fluctuating suffixes that conjured
a spell to chain her weary eyes to yesterday.
You, you cannot feign within your gaze as, yes,
your eyes deceive the empathy of your sultry
prose. Steal your sorrys from my ears.
You, yes you, you know just as well as I do
that you cannot be truly sorry, truly sorry,
as if you were truly sorry, you wouldn't do it again.

Oh-fellow.

'Good night, good night. Heaven me such uses send,
Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!'

Well said, Dessy.

Beware: Double Negative.

The exposition trails of your heart
lace your words with ribboned clues
of your next move. Though
you ask me to cushion the past with
a silky fabric, I cannot help but
ponder upon the possibilities. There
you go. There you go again. I wish
with all my zest that you will be a
halcyon boy. Kiss my memory,
not my reality. I am here, even
if it be for no other reason, besides:
I simply cannot not be...

Thank you.

So, this is my thank you:
To the boy who held a bottle out
and said 'This is for you';
Well, yes it was a dinky deed,
but your tenderness was true.
To the girl who sipped the cocoa
whilst devouring my spiel;
I can't articulate the peace
you're Juice does make me feel.
To the boy who tapped, so sweetly,
a simple pretzel anecdote;
On the surface it was silly but
there was more to what you wrote.
To the girl who's creativity
leaves me dazed in pretty awe;
You're trinket box of secrets
made me ponder so much more.
To the girl who blessed me dearly
with a package full of love;
You perfected the lush harmony
to all of the above.
So, thank you for anulling
my woes of yesterday;
I've tried with verse to tell you, but:
I love you more than words can say.

I really, really, really do.
Thank you.
Natalie Louise Slade.X

Smelly.

I apologise in advance for being somber, but I really need to say something.
I've never really used this as a journal, but I really need to right now.
This has been one of the rubbishyest-est weekends in ages.
(My non-standard grammar is intentional to shock you into comprehending the extremity of my emotion)
I'm dehydrated from the leaking and I'm exhausted from the fighting.
I feel sick and weak.
And the worst part is, I can't even remember what day it is tommorow.
It's terrifying to know that mundane is my escape.
I'm craving busyness, just to take my mind away.
So, maybe I want sympathy, but I don't know why. I need more than that.
I need some cucumbers for the puffiness.
If only I were a woodland creature; I'd be hibernating right now.

Or something like that...

You ask me what I see when I
look into those eyes,
but vision is not a form of articulacy.
The eyes, they cannot verbalise
the heartache that they glitter,
but I'll try this anyway. It may be
the only way? Here come the words.

Imagine there is a sunrise
in the distance;
you are looking,
you are melting in this dream.

It is flaming with a passion of which
you long to truly feel. It is
glowing with delicious promises that
ooze from the slither
separating the soil and sea.

You lose all silly memory of
the fading pennies in the jar, or
the little petrol in your car, or
the dreams to be a star. No,
your senses become numb as you gaze
into the light that
smolders, shines with splendor.

Your heart succumbs to peace, it will shimmy
in delight;
tangerine, coral, scarlet, apricot, amber, gold
glisten with pride, licking the edges of your world.

They proceed to rise, elegant
in pace. Your lashes flicker as
your body liquefies in hope, a virtue
your heart has desired so long. So,
you smile. But:

Realism begins to seep through
your nooks, through
your crannies.
You hear their hypothesis. You
drown in their theories. You
suffocate in whos and hows and whys.
Stabbed by science.

For the sun is just a star at
the centre of the system they call 'solar'.
Simply hydrogen and helium and
iron and neon and chemicals that's colour true
is white.

No tangerine or coral or
scarlet, apricot, amber, gold. That
is just the atmospheric scattering, you
oh-so-human being.

The magic, she is sprinkled
in a land called yesterday, but
tommorow she will resonate in your heart
for the moments, just
like today.

So, you are the professor, who
of course makes 'scientific sense', but I?
I am the writer, who is lost in
not what is real, but
what I can feel. Which
will always be more real,
to me. You see?


That is what I see, when
I look into those eyes. Or
something like that.

I can('t) see you?

I can see your glazing
like a sugared cake, shimmering
your life at stake, breaking
a little more than I can take.
I can see you crying
tears of pure gold, smiling
through the broken mould, shaking
in your bitter cold.
I can see you striving
to defy your spoof tradition, searching
for a hidden intuition, dreaming
of people who will listen.
I can see you praying
to a God you cannot feel, holding
onto time to heal, knowing
not, not if I am real.
I can see you wishing
on your second-rate science, fighting
the vice of soft compliance, kissing
a dangerous defiance.
I can see you declaring
the words I long to hear, edging
with every sigh you near, longing
to taste this tangy fear.
I can see you paralysed
you beckon me, smothering
all that you could be, yearning
to feel faintly, gently free.

O' I can see you, so
I must close my eyes.
Sorry; I can't see you.

Save me?

Guard your heart (Part 1)

Alba Darcy was one of those rare human beings, who was ruled entirely from within herself by her delicious desires. She emanated a luscious ambience that was perceived by the doubtful as a curious disillusion. Her soft romantic readiness made her every word glisten with a subtle hope and her eyes sparkled in a reassuring way. To hold her glance was a satisfying moment in which every second but the present was made irrelevant. Her laugh tumbled from her lips, each note like a mellifluous kiss that resonated in the air and echoed silently. Should she have the lust to, Alba could break a heart in a single beat but she longed for nothing less. She was a girl whose heart was strong in it's surrender but wistfully weak in it's self-defence. And this, if any, is the single most profoundly humble and dangerous virtue to possess. However, the fact that one can only discover this particular ethic in it's present state, made the deluge of Alba's spirit even more inevitable. It was simple. Alba would only discover the caliber of her paroxysm when she was seduced to release her heart. And it saddens me to apprise you that Alba Darcy released herself to a boy, a boy who, being only human, intertwined Alba's intent loyalty with his own scarred heart.
But, I am getting ahead of myself. For the progression, climax and aftermath of love are all equally consequential. So, I will start at the beginning. When the twinkle of innocence in Alba's eyes still burned bright, still smoldered with a passion, still flared with an intense despondency for tomorrow. That was yesterday.

To be continued...

I dreamed a dream.

Hello. So, last night I had one of those really deep sleeps. You know the ones? When you wake up in the morning and have to wait a minute or so before your brain remembers what day it is and who you are. Then you wonder whether the dreams you were lost in, just moments ago, actually happened. Yes? Well, I had one of those sleeps. And the dreams I had were like snapshots of lots of different films. But one of them is really standing out to me. And I can't stop thinking about it:
I was in the middle of a huge open field, all on my own, and a stampede of horses were charging towards me. They were running really fast and I had nowhere to run because there were so many of them. And I couldn't move my legs, they just wouldn't listen to me, so I was just standing, waiting for them. And then my legs started to run, but I wasn't controlling them. They started running towards the horses. Running at them. And I could hear my heart throbbing in my head. And I could feel it punching my chest. But I couldn't stop running. And it was really terrifying. Then just as they were about to trample on me, my dream would switch to something else. But it kept coming back to the horses. And the same thing kept happening. And I believe it was symbolic. And now I'm not entirely sure what to do in these next few days. My fickle emotions are wearing me out. I'm certainly not a pessimistic person, at least, I try not to be. But this is my outlet. It's like a moment when I don't have to breathe. I can just be calm and pretend this is the real world. And to think, I use to crave the real world...

I see you in the distance,
As you surge towards my heart.
And you're running and you're charging
Just for me.
I stare at you with feeble eyes,
As you race towards my body,
And you're rushing and you're stumbling
Just for me.
I shake, with fear inside,
As you endure to fragment me,
And you're dancing and you're galloping
Just for me.
I feel you nearing to me,
As I flutter longingly,
And you're ruthless and you're running
And you're gracious and you're cunning.
And you're righteous and you're lying
And you're laughing and you're crying.
Just for me.
And I'm tender with Love because you broke me.
Just for me?

3+3=6

The words are on my tongue,
And I can see them in your eyes,
The whispers and the sibilance
That spill such saintly lies.
My heart is in my hand,
With my arm outstretched to you,
And you’re staring and you’re waiting
To simply break it clean in two.
You’ve done this once before,
Then you did it one more time,
And I’ve watched you, analysed you
Dancing to your selfish rhyme.
So, when you see I see you,
You sprucely hush me with your kiss,
Ammunition you've kept hidden
Until such a time as this.
You leave me lost in limbo,
Lacing lies in loyalty,
You tangle me pulsating,
Promise: You will set me free.
But my heart, she cannot take this,
As she quivers in my hand,
She glitters pretty innocence
You'll never understand.
Those words I said were on my tongue,
They're seeping from the seams,
Escaping to my swelling lips,
To save me from your dreams.
So listen when I speak to you,
As this could be the last,
And if you've anything to say,
Well, you better think fast.
There are six words that epitomize
The fluster within me,
Two phrases that I wish to say,
Juxtaposed, two groups of three.

Lullaby.

La la la. La la la. La la la la la la la. La la la la, la la la. La la la la la la la. La la la. La la la. La la la la la la. La la la. La la la. La la la la la la.

Little girl, little girl,
Lose yourself in a rainbow,
All the colours, glowing bright,
Are all that you need tonight,
Kiss away all the pain,
Your heart will beat again,
Gently dance, simply smile,
Love yourself for a while.

Little girl, little girl,
Please just shut your eyes tightly,
Lose the sorrow in your heart,
So he tore your dreams apart,
But the Love, that you yearn,
Is just waiting it's turn,
To come soothe, sweetly save,
Little girl, please be brave.

La la la. La la la. La la la la la la la. La la la la, la la la. La la la la la la la. La la la. La la la. La la la la la la. La la la. La la la. La la la la la la.

So, this is Love.

BANG.
She gasped and inhaled the bitter air. She blinked her eyes open, although she didn't know why. It was just a natural reflex to open her eyes, yet she knew she would see nothing. She was alone. She choked on the atmosphere surrounding her as it stabbed her lungs. She wished that her body would grant her peace by resisting the indelible urge to breathe. But just as her eyes had opened, her lungs contracted. Her oh-so-human body was still fighting for life. If only it knew. But it did not know. Well, you try telling a heart not to beat. It will never listen. It can speak to you, with ever beat, every pulse. Touch your wrist. Touch your thumb. Touch your neck. It's speaking to you. It's commanding you: Live. Live. Live. Sometimes more fiercely than other times. Sometimes it's shouting. Racing. Demanding. Sometimes it's whispering. Soothing. Dancing. But either way, you have to listen. And it will never listen to you. When you're alone, you cannot stop your heart. Not with your bare hands. When you're cold and naked and shaking and alone, you cannot stop it. Not really stop it. Not completely stop it. But still, she was trying. It is stronger than your mind. Stronger than your senses. Stronger than the courage you muster; you coward. And they were laughing at her, and she could hear them as the reluctant symphony of her respiration droned on. The music score of her heart: the simple 4/4 signature, only one bar long. But she could see the end of the bar, and the end of the bar did not end as those two vertical lines were followed by two taunting dots. And the symmetrical reflection lay at the beginning of the bar, sandwiching the notes of her heart. Repeat. And so she lay there, numb. And the drums played on in her head. And she closed her eyes. And she clenched her fists. And she pierced her skin. But the beat played on. And she realised:
This is Love.

The Puppeteer.

So, you're pulling at the strings that move my hands and feet,
You make my body dance and sing, pretending all is sweet.
You move my hands away, away, from what my heart desires,
And tell me that you simply care; You'll save me from the liars.
You tell me I should help myself by following my heart,
Then smother me with how and why my world will fall apart.
You softly paint a broken smile, to ease your guilty eyes,
And tell me that I'm beautiful so I believe your lies.
You dress me in your history, you think you're looking down,
But this is only in your mind, just like your regal crown.
Nobody questions your mistakes, well, you don't think they do,
But they aren't as blind as they may seem, they will decipher you.
Your eyes, they glisten secrets, as you cast away the blame,
So, it never has been you my dear? You fight to clear your name.
You eyeball me, you follow me and snigger at my life,
Whilst all the time convincing them there's no blood on your knife.
But the truth is that it's dripping, it's diffusing in your soul,
It's saturating all you are, the honesty you stole.
And if you cannot see this, if your eyes they cannot see,
Then open up your ears please, and just listen to me.