Resting Place

The grey is coming over

The birds

Caw

Like Keys

Jingling in the sky

They hold weight

Like a full stop

Heavy

Pointless

It is not like yesterday

That day when

When the flowers were so white it hurt

I cannot do another day

That’s what I think

When another day comes

Pushes away yesterday

Like some error

On a type writer

back space back space

I cannot do another day

Persistently I re-type

As if repetition becomes vindication

I wish I wish to just stop moving

Stall like a jammed key

Too much ink to make words any more

I cannot make words any more

I cannot

I can not

She came to fall in a rose bush

A small rag of blue by her chin

To collect the spit

And time

It was not big enough to hold all that

And her fingers grew tired

And let go

They did not find her

They did not see the rag

Or think to look

It fell

Blue and tired

Hooked upon the thorns

But she was quiet now

Still

And the birds

Flew above

Quiet

Quiet

And still

And she smiled because 

She could see from the place

That no one thought to look.

Thanks to Archna

Thanks To Archna @ archnasharma.blogspot.com..

You already know I am terrible at technical things so I don't need to list that.

10 Things you may not know -


1. I have a tattoo. i went alone. the tattooist was called Wes.
2. I once drove a stolen car.
3. I have never made coffee for a doctor. Any former nurse will furnish you with the correct reply to such a request.
4. I find the Kardashians amusing.
5. I have five pairs of shoes
6. And six piercings.
7. I have not met my husband. Or my wife.
8. I spent winter in Ohio.
9. I love more than I hate.
10. I write best when prompted (or poked..as an addendum).

6 Favourite bloggers -

Kim Nelson Writes
Ann PinoFiction Writer
Dee@Thoughts Have Wings
Annell@ annellannell.wordpress.com.
daydreamertoo @ Soul Speak
and VL Sheriden...

..amongst others..who have crept into those dark places with open minds..and hearts..

..I hope you somehow stumble upon this...and add your 10 facts and 6 favourites...

Jae

Spiked

I sit on the bathroom floor

Spiked uncut unsettled

Same dialogue over and over

Same dialogue over and over

They came again at 8.32

Left at 8.48

I go from shop to shop

Looking

For something

I don’t know

Talk

That’s what I need

Just to say

At the end of a dead telephone

I hear it

Slipping away

Walking past the hanging sign

Straight-up Frank waves hi

I wave back

Maybe I am here

Not like Frank

Not in the same way

Never in the same way

We would not fit right

Frank does not live here

The other boy does

He holds his head

busy as busy as

He takes the notice from the wall

Shatters pins upon the floor

Places each piece of paper

Piece by piece

In the trash

I pick up the pins

I can’t make this right

I tap my hand along the wall

As the car drives by

As if to thumb a lift

Away

The car does not stop

Not today

I sit

On the bathroom floor

Spiked uncut unsettled

It can’t have been long the tea’s still hot

I can’t make this right.

Young

The old man picks his way over the gravel

Bare foot

This ‘aint no fucking beach gramps

I walk over the bridge

Dreaming of Patti Smith

(whoever she is)

I ‘aint so fucking young

My head sinks

Down into the glass

There it is

The real voice

I would be young

If

I walked

Bare foot

Over the gravel

Whistled

I’m not so young

Not since the powder gouged my flesh

Stopped the blood

Flying up to my head

Stopped life

My life

Thursday is pie bonanza day

I take a bite

Hush the voice

That sears every thought

Sign my name

In that place

The one

You know

It is not quite my name

Not quite my confession

Sacred oranges too good to eat

Pink coat iconic

Tangled up in colours

Like a novice

Skipping rope

I choke

Throw away Vincent’s boots

In the black bag

With everything else

That doesn’t fit

Gone

In the bin

But not gone

I keep my shoes

Think how I may whistle too

If I let the gravel

Burn and Blush my toes. 

My Friend Electric

You keep painting your house yellow

I keep peeling it off

Like sunflower and buttercup dust

Ground into pepper

Sprinkled on hands

Black

So hard to get to nine o’clock

Slow as pink falling from the sky

Impossible to catch

Or savour

How delicious pink cloud must be

Better than mistakes

which hang

from my

wrists

fall from my head

easier

not to count

Days lost and collected like a bee busy buzz no stopping hello the postman says but  can’t see how he says it a hand waves I move on bzz changed my shoes now look up don’t trip strip stop collecting screws glass test tubes an experiment can I stop thank you

Thank you

My friend electric

Calm blue

Shh Shh

Like the face on the TV screen

But real

To me

You keep painting your house yellow

I keep peeling it off

Like a butcher peels skin

Always looking for the finest cut.

New Shoes

My shoes are wearing thin

I should go to the shoe shop

Find something new

But I can’t move

But if I can’t move

Why are there holes in my shoes

I close my eyes

It’s not dark enough

I close the curtains

Fucking light

Hand over stinking hand over face over mouth and I know I will never make it to the shoe shop

I will never make it anywhere

Perhaps I do

Want a little fawning

A little pat on the head

A little well done you

Wishful thinking mixed with powder and dust and too much light

Fucking light

I navigate the dead skin

smell lick taste

I am so close to it that it is unreal

Distant

I am distant

Cold

Words juggling cutting up my head

I have remorse

I have remorse

sorrysorrysorry

I am so sorry

That I have worn myself away

Worn everything away

Lost you

In the doors

In the toilet

In some basement with a couple of dogs and a running machine

And a gun

It was so gloriously dark there

A fine place to come to rest

Rest

That is what I’d like

I look at my shoes

The dark room is so perfectly light to see the holes

Right there

Worn down to the bottom

Worn down to the end.

 

In The Beginning

There was a man

Who built my bones

With powder and with spit

So now I cannot stand

There was a woman

Who held my bones

But would not let them grow

Out grow

Her

So she ground up my flesh

And my bones

With spit

And fury

And the powder

Turned to dust

Turned me to dust

Like the lorry

That grinds the glass

Which I follow

Searching for the perfect piece

That shines up high

In the sun

But really it just hurts

The man and the woman left

Many times ago

But I do not forget

What they taught me

I grind up my flesh and my bones

Hold the dust together with sticking tape and time

But really it just hurts

In the bath

As the water washes under the last nerve

I have lots of sticking tape

And time

I keep it on the counter

With the powder

And the food

I cannot swallow

My fingers worry the spots on my stomach

In the night

Like a constellation

Under which I cannot sleep

I wonder if the man and woman remember me

The taste of my flesh

And my bones

The taste which is always there

In the back of my throat

So I cannot swallow

It makes me sad

It makes me sad

And I think

In the beginning

I should have said

I do not want to be

At all.

Sugar and Spice

He puts on blue plastic gloves

Because I am toxic

Inside

Outside

To touch

I cannot put on gloves

But they touch me

Pull my collar

Drag my coat

I can not say

Stop

The gloves are real

The phone call made

The car door firmly shut

I lie on the floor

Sinking in my own toxicity

Dry and cold

Not like the spit that fell from my mouth

Or the tea that left me damp

Falling from my hand

Nobody held

My hand

Keeps

Me

Safe

I lie on the floor

Sinking in my own toxicity

The gloves would have gone in a yellow bag

My neck

The thing that holds me

Around my neck

Is red

Red

Red like the Queen

Who trembles at the thought of sugar and spice

And all things nice

I am not nice

Even when dusted in sugar

I cannot move

From the floor

But I hear her

I hold her in my hand

I smell of chemicals all mixed up

She pays no mind

Holds me

We whisper together

They say all is well when nothing is well

They say peace peace when there is no peace

And our truth tastes as good as sugar. 

Wild

I walk home

A few hours after

I don’t know how but I must

It is in my shoe tucked under my socks

The ones with rainbows and stripes

They were shoved in the green bag with everything else

Except care

I try to get in the door but the lock is kicked

Speedy guy said

We have to keep the riff raff out

We are the riff raff I thought

Two years 

Two jumps

Lots of powder

The police come more than the riff raff.

They stop me once at 1am

Then I go

Get in the bath

Pull the needle out

The blood flow warms the water

No stopping it with finger or thumb

I walk hop walk hop to the box of plasters

(there was a sticky snail this morning)

Of course nobody believes

The little purple holes in my arms

The drool on my hair

Just a push and a shove

You are nothing but shit a fucking stupid sack of shit

I ran no I ran

The dark didn’t scare

The man in the alley didn’t scare me

He called me love and asked if I was ok

Billy the Liar. Dead eyed Chrissy.

They know wild

They feel it

They are not fools who hold me down hold me back

They offer me a hand so I no longer have to fear it

The fury inside.

  

Sun Shine Prison Bars

The sun shines prison bars on the carpet

Here I am again

Back

At the start

Or the end

Not quite sure

Which way is up

Up

Climbing up the walls

Like poison

Poison ivy around your house

don’t say good bye don’t say hello

Not generous enough to speak

I sit

Head down

Down

I went down

Six months

The penalty another twelve

A reward

They say

one sheet twenty words one hundred and twenty minutes

over and over and fucking over until I slowly disappear

gone gone gone

How terrible the headaches

How terrible that people ache

Around them

I sit

Head down

Down

There are no people

To ache

In my head

Up

Climbing up the walls

They are more

deserving

real

just

I am not there

gone gone gone

How terrible my head aches

How terrible people make me ache

The sun shines prison bars on the carpet

I do not move them.