I love you

And though we are only away from each other for a few days, I feel the distance already tearing at my chest.

As if the miles push the pain of your absence deeper into my soul, with their hefty weight.

I will return to you soon. Know that I am missing you with each minute, in beautiful pain for your love.


[POEM] Tell me

Tell me how I should love you, while
Numb to the tips of my fingers and toes.
Tell me how I should feel one with you,
Though I am a shattered creation by myself.
Tell me how you survive on such meagre
Rations as hope. Gruel in replacement for
The constant love I once gave to you.

Tell me how I should love you, me
Who is full of hate and black storms.
Tell me how I should feel when I can’t
Even touch your skin without sorrow.
Tell me how you continue to hold stars
In your eyes for me when I am nought
But uncertainty and suffering.

Tell me how I used to love you, with
Clutching hands and certain chest.
Tell me how I used to feel, your soft
Skin quickening and comforting at once.
Tell me how you felt when you first
Found out that my soul was dying, and
Fast behind it was racing my heart.

I will tell you I love you, soon,
And know I mean it to my depths.
I will feel you, whole, and become lost
In your world of faeries and darkness.
You will wonder how we could have
Ever been otherwise, you and I.
You probably already do.

How we could have ever been full of love,
When now you are time and patience, and
I am pain. Shadow beaten pain.

[POEM] Stepping into Love

One footstep, controlled and measured
Brings me forward for your inspection.
Eyes dart from sharp to eventually pleasured
Gaze. It’s odd, your soul is my reflection.

Looks were all we had at first, and words.
Oh so many words. Tumbling out desperately
Trying to convey how close our worlds
Want to be. We joined together so perfectly.

Head rested on arm, and words quelled
Behind kisses. Breath ran hot. Finally.
I looked into your eyes, and they spelled
Out how fallen love had made me lonely.

I picked your laugh, your smile, every
Gentle and kind detail of you. I chose
To take your darkness, too. The very
Shadows that could strike fear. Yes, those.

Those fearful heartbeats with soundless
Energy that you can’t even communicate
To your shared soul, me. Oh countless
Times you’ve closed off like an iron gate.

But I know you. There is comfort in
Knowing you. Solace in touching even
The parts you hate. And I will sin
With you, forever. Because chosen love is something I believe in.


[Depression] Thank yourself. Every day. Ignore the feeling of dreadful cheesiness.

I’ve not posted any new self help method attempts in a while, mostly because I’m currently going through a very low period of depression.

Those times where the sadness ebbs into something much more grey than you could imagine, and you feel like an empty hollow wandering aimlessly. You’ll likely lose motivation, passion and emotions. You might feel like a phony, living in the stead of someone who used to be very much alive and real. You may sleep all day, or never be able to lay your head to rest, eat too much or not enough. There are always differences in how each of us experiences our lowest of lows, but it sucks balls for each and every one of us.

Normally, my coping mechanism used to be drink a lot, smoke a lot, go out, get crazy. This lead to emotional breakdowns, stupid decisions and a whole host of anxiety and heart palpitations from alcohol and cigarettes. Now, I’ve given up that life, cutting down my drinking and only having more than one if I know I’m in a good spot. It’s helped a lot, but it hasn’t solved this destructive urge. I still turn to cigarettes but I don’t implode the way my body wants me too. I have no solution yet for this, though I have found something that helps soothe over this pain just a little.

Say thank you to yourself.

I first heard this in a yoga class (so I know, this sounds old, cheesy and you’ve probably heard it a million times). I practice some yoga alone, using videos and apps, and realizing each time how horrendously stiff and inflexible I am. Last Sunday, I decided to have a change of pace, let’s actually join in with a group of people, be around the presence of others and see if that brings me more peace.

It didn’t just bring me peace, it brought out some of the pain in me. After an hour and a half of hard work, listening to my body, thinking about me exclusively and letting my form move in ways it wanted I felt released. I felt like a small crack had formed in the tough grey wall that stopped me feeling. When the instructor then said the words “Ignore that criticizing voice inside of you. It’s a decision, decide every day not to listen. Thank your body, send yourself love.”

I remind you, I am a meat eating, weight lifting kinkster who’s more cynical and bitter than at peace with the world, but this struck me hard in the chest to the point that tears rose, unfallen, into my eyes. I realized that the idea of pushing away these negative thoughts and sending positive ones to myself felt alien and wrong to the strongest degree. That I had allowed my mind to poison itself into such self hatred that I absolutely couldn’t appreciate how hard my body had worked. Because there was always better, always the next goal, it was all about progress and never understand that what I was doing in itself was enough. That still working out and eating healthy while going through a dark mental episode was enough. Living was enough.

So, for everyone out there who might be forgetting that they deserve thanks, thank yourself. Appreciate yourself. Living IS enough. Choosing the positive voice, at least sometimes, is enough. Do not let this disease dictate how you speak to yourself.

Maybe just a little bit of self kindness could go a long way for you. You deserve to feel happy, even if it feels like the world is against you

[Writing] About Today

“About Today”

She was a pirate, with sword in hand and had dipping low on her face. Too big for her, grin full of trouble and hands full of flair and swind.

She was running, Grass whirring past her bare feet. Leaping, dodging, laughing into the still air that she whipped into a breeze.

She was a writer, sat in her retreat, pen on paper and mind stuck on a story she couldn’t quite get out into the world. But dammit she would try.

Her hand lifted up and the gun shot. A harmless pellet rang out and a cry of laughter erupted.

She was a space pilot, decked in spandex in a sombre suit. Her stern features carved from a stalwart stone of stubborn determination.

He whizzed past and shot back, more laughter, and the sound of his voice singing along with the birds in bliss.

She was a singer, alone in a room without an audience, clad in her dreams and eyes shut and drowning to the world. But not so alone, one figure sitting and watching her from the dark theatre and letting her pained voice embalm him.

She tumbled to the grass. He tumbled down with her, wrestling away the gun. Fledglings that they were, all they had was laughter, and each other in the open air.

She was a warrior. Armor shone, tarnished from recent battle. Stern sadness was in her eyes and loss echoed from the glint of her eyes and the blood on her sword. Her shield hung in one limp hand.

They looked at eachother, her atop him as she regained her toy gun and his. Both were dropped, and her hands were busy reaching for his heart as the music tinkled gently around them.

[And I just watched you.]

She was walking. Rows of houses on either side in the cold darkness. Uneven paving tumbled below her feet, the thick block of her heel clumping along with the music she had turned up to drown out the world. Her eyes saw everything, but nothing. Her feet kept steady pace. A cat ran past her path and she bent to offer out her hand. It ran off.

The music became louder. The drum beats fierce, but they weren’t supposed to be.

She shielded her eyes from a sudden house light, and looked around. She was alone in the neighbourhood street.

Another light. Pounding, she raised up both arms in defence as they came up with each deafening beat in her ear. Her face went from dreaming to scared. Things began to rush past her, not cats. Shadows. Things. Lights, Movement. Not tangible. They started to crowd her as they fled past and away and ignoring the pain scratching at her ribcage.

She was drenched in the lights, beckoning down on her and judging, and her face was torn. She felt the chaos of her brain on the outside of her body pressing in. These whirring, sprinting lights and shadows. They were London, they were Singapore, they were Istanbul and Paris. They were all the quiet places, too, where her mind screamed the most. Normandie, Boulogne, Oxford, her room. Her dozens of rooms where she had sat trapped away from the judging gaze of the lights.

The Pirate was a girl with a hat too large, and a roll of used wrapping paper in one hand.

She crouched and huddled faster away from the lights, feeling the scream inside of her.

The writer was a girl bunched up on a seat in the tube, scribbling in frustration at a page that simply wouldn’t come to life like her mind.

She hid her face from the glaring lights, eyes burning so hard that tears began to well between her lashes, the music overpowering everything inside of her.

The pilot was a girl with that toy gun, standing in preparation, thinking of the world and how it wanted to hurt her.

Her lips opened in a silent sob, as her hands clawed around her own head, stuck in this reverie of a nightmare.

The singer was a girl in the shower, singing out all of the sorrow and heart she felt, alone, with no one there to see her. See her.

Her body huddled as far into itself as it could, and there seemed no retreating as everything else carried on around her, whirring so close that these shadow people almost knocked her over, and the lights of the imagined headlamps threatened to run her down.

The warrior was just a girl. She had no weapons. But she felt loss, and the scars on her body were just as real as she stood there in her shorts and t-shirt. Thighs and wrists revealed the battle that raged so hidden and silently in her twisted mind.

Her final moment had footsteps. Not her own, but another set she couldn’t hear past the beating drums and the words repeating over and over again in her headphones, in her brain. It was always rushing past her and leaving her in the depths of a darkness she could not fathom in these brumy pits of despair.

The girl was gone. She could not weep loudly, or openly, but hid behind her clawed hands and behind the scars. Behind the hard exterior as she broke down without warning.

A hand.

She felt it before she saw it, though it never touched her. Her eyes peeked out from behind her barrier, pale in the lights that blinded her. She was always blind to the world. Always.

The figure was a calm shadow, a respite from the judging lights and darks that screamed down at her to stop pretending, to stop dreaming. To stop living. It was quiet, and sad. And the music was unbearable.

She took the hand, and the lights were all gone. The dashing, the glaring, the flaring of her mind on the outside. Gone. She saw him. He saw her. And he helped her to her unsteady feet. It was a pause. It was a quiet.

“Pick up your shield”.

He nodded down at the dropped handbag on the ground, keeping her hand so tightly in his, she thought he might crush it. She thought that his voice might break with soft, worried tenderness.

She picked it up. Her shield. But really, as he pulled her to his chest, he was her shield. She smothered into it, silent tears and invisible cries muffled against it as she was held in those arms.

She saw him. And he saw her.

[Tonight. You just close your eyes. And I just watch you. Slip away.How close am I. To losing you.

Hey? Are you awake. Yeah I’m right here. How can I ask you. About Today?

How close am I. To losing you. How close am I. To losin’.]

In the midst of uncertainty, without the lights of judgement baring down, they went home. Already in a separate world.

[POEM] Better Love – Hozier

How do we know how alone we are?
Is it when we trust ourselves into a stranger’s arms?
Is it when we realize that trust only extends to the blink of an eye?
Or maybe when we finally release and fall into the burning sky.

Only you. You whose heart is so open.
Open to me and closed to the pain that intimacy brings.
Weeping from the back of my world of eternal, painful sleep.
There’s no better love waiting for this pitiful soul to keep.

Just justify me with a diagnosis, whole.
Just give me the pills I need and throw me to the cold.
We all deserve better love than disposable prescriptions.
It beckons to me, a soldier left to the conscription.

And you’ll watch me. Falling away from grace.
Looking up to heaven, just empty, heavy outer space.
I once hoped, shaken through with every tear and breath
Hush a bye honey, and keep lying for the purpose of death.

Knowing how alone we are, how known we are.
There is no better love for us sitting here in mortality.
All diseased but clutching the cure to ourselves selfishnly.
We run in circles, chasing our own pain endlessly.

Our truth will be burned from History, even as
Each one of us screams “WITNESS ME” into the black.
Void, so vast it burns us away from the books. Paper meaningless
And stained. Justified is this death, and these actions with the words:
We didn’t know any better.

[POEM] To dream the impossible dream

You seem to forget that you were born of star matter.
That what forged you was pure love, and need.
Yet you live a life where your loves and needs are subdued
By the earthly soil around you, grateful to have a fallen
Star grace its surface after so many millennia of darkness.

You seem to forget that the possibilities may be limited,
But they are endless, too. That the darkness does surround us
And in turn we digest it whole. But your innards are flame,
Flicker only subdued but never, ever, extinguished.
How could they be? You are made of Star Matter.

The world doesn’t see your strength, because you let it lie
Dormant beneath the surface. A mountain that was once
A volcano, accepting sacrifice and passion in its name.
A place where voices rose around you and impregnated
Your very being. But now, they look as if you don’t matter.

You walk mute, letting the disease of mortality touch your
Soul. You breathe in their poison, pushing through the
Infected masses until you forget just how brightly you burn.
But I am made of Star Matter, from eons and eons ago.
And I will not stand to let my heavenly love extinguish.

I will not allow you to fall into this mortal trap, as so many others have. My battle is never ending, and though I too have swallowed darkness, I float atop it.

I love you, my dwindling star, we were tied to each other
From the beginning of eternity. I know your eyes no longer
See beneath these fleshy coils, but mine do. They see beneath
The lies they have clothes you in, as you watched on with
Sad acceptance. I see you. I see you, and beyond that –

I love you.

[POEM] Stardust

Stardust is such a delicate thing.
A substance beguiled by stillness.
And so we lay so still, moving
Only at our own peril. No less
Together than just inseperable
Knoted to one another, invulnerable.

This stardust sits in cracks and bends
Into our folded embrace. Two forces
Collide with us, the shockwave sends
Our minds riling away from purses
And faked riches or gold. Two unstoppable
Mountains created from force indescribable.

Statues that move in stillness, without
Sight of world or time. Stardust coats
Our bodies and spirits. We have nought
But our nakedness, and love that bloats
Our hearts like swollen vaults of treasure.
We hold our stardust, full of pleasure.

But it will flutter and trace away, fickle
Without this self assured certainty
Of sparkling affection. Stardust trickles
Down our spines and leaves us eternally
Drunk on each other. Our eyelashes close,
Leaving the shadow of dust, of those
Gorgeous golden moments.
Of us. Monuments
To love.

[POEM] In the simplest ways

I love you.
In the simplest ways.

The way a cat loves to bask in the sun,
And lather itself in bright joy.

The way coffee smells, that is how
I love you, sweet one.

The way my warmest jumper feels slid
Over my naked skin.

The way I curl into comfort is the way
I pour my love into you.

The way a smile talks, its taste on lips,
So ready to emit shine.

The way I hide from the world, it lends
Me to love you deeper.

I love you. Oh in the simplest of ways.
And I will keep loving you, as I find my
Safe spaces within you when my soul quails
From the darkness that hails from sky
And earth, relentless and cruel and nothing
Like your warmth. So soft, and noting
Each of my intricacies intimately. Perfectly.

I love you in the simplest of ways.

And I will simply keep on loving you.