it's always easier to show someone a scar long healed
then to pull away your guarding hands to show them the bleeder

maybe the 32 loved the 12, the 13
stole a whole multitude of favourite colours
made me too much of a woman too soon

I brag to be no huntress
Artemis is not my mother goddess
I am bred from Aphrodite and Hermes - fast to love
my godmother Hera whips my fury into shape
teaches my heart to be a nimble magician
- everything you see, feel, hear may very well be an illusion -
and it comes to the point when even I am lost like Odysseus in the lies
told not to turn but unable to resist diving back into the darkness for a loved one even when I myself am saved

no matter how much you want to, you can't blame a social guy for being social (You are not left out, you are out of town)

it's when you realize you are not the centre of his world that you fight your heart,
beat for beat,
wanting a hit on those paranoid thoughts (but instead you take one yourself to just not think at all).
you make yourself busy
distracted
over it  (fuck him after all for not giving you the attention you deserve)

numb[safety]ers
sle[safety]ep
and a love for small swallowable things
add it all up in the palm of my hand
throw in a chemistry, biology lesson
solvent down the throat
the rest will come

I have a love-hate relationship with cleaning...introducing an old poem, all polished up

is it because we have nothing to say
or is it that there is too much,
too many words,
all gluing themselves into sentences
(the kind where you forget to breathe)
growing too big to slip out between the lips
that I'd really rather just be kissing

I could cry tears that sobbed a thousand miseries. I do. I am.
There are two overflowing storm drains on my face
and darling, it's really pouring out there, make sure you take an umbrella.
I wish you would let me make you understand, make you see.
So stupid is what I am,
naive still, enough to think I'm not.
Such a fool be me,
but who does the listener turn to when everyone has plugs of self-importance
filling their ears and always a phrase on the tip of their tongue?
I would turn to you. I did turn to you.
The twin soul who knew. Just knew.

it was in the dark that I realized it was a choice to be there

you were not poison to me
only a catalyst,
an open door for my curiosity to crawl through.
what I found I loved too much
so much that it broke me,
leaving me to find my way back through unguided.
I made it out alive, intact but changed
the caterpillar who needed a push to grow her wings.