Rebound

There are those that bounce

from the arms of one straight to another

Never bothering to take the time to

Repair

And to fix the damage caused by the previous

Then there those that get swept away with the

Transition of a relationship to none

the ones inbetween

Rebound

they are

used

for a night,

or a matter of weeks and months

to aid in the forgetting or getting over process

Before The Conversation

On a rainy day

An original chameleon

Blonde

Black

Red

Brown

All the colours of the rainbow.

A flick of hair

The screwed up grin & a

Smile

That doesn’t quite reach.

Self preservation

Teamed with re-invention.

Seamlessly confident

Loud, brash and seemingly unafraid.

A textbook version of a depressive trying to break out.

& when the tears start to fall

What if all the love is wasted?

& when I spew with

Hate.Hate.Hate

Just find a place to put it, and carry on.

Because that’s all you can do.

Your Restraint

There's a thousand q & a's

That I have

Up here, for you.

Queries, a couple

There is no start

...with everything.

The responses

Eat them up, really greedy

Engrain and Store.

The Quick Fire Round

just before sleep time.

Find the opening, pick a moment.

Hold, stop & breathe easily.

bombard

bombard

tease a response

then

QUICK! retreat

before lockdown

soon followed by annoyance

tut

tutting

and Why?

a disappointment and

I wish I didn't,

I wish I didn't know.

damp cheeks, my own regrets and

I wish I never,

I wish I never shared.

Wait,

bide time.

Your restraint *I bow* is commendable.

.

So they’ve gone
London - Hong Kong – Perth

The remaining pieces from a past life awaiting their arrival
In boxes,
At a house by the sea.

And left behind to solider on
The broken remains of family.

Quiet times
The words on a screen blurring
The mind wanders
While papers sit idly on my lap
Leaving time to dream up scenarios
The kind, I am too guilty to say aloud.

Soy suposed para ser feliz

Except, sorry, I’m not.

There is much to say and no energy to do it

And I have a confession to make.

Casper

I'm being stalked.

by a ghost.

They're everywhere,

in every nook

in every cranny.

There's no escape.

They don't say much

they just stare, smug.

inquisitively questioning what am I doing here.

and even when they are gone

they are more here than ever.

the constant reminder thudding in my head.

A disturbance in the air, prying

evidence littered everywhere.

if thee shalt seek then thou shalt find

a competition.

just go away,

all of it.

just go away.

Skinny Boy

Number 5 made me cry

And just like that the relief
And if I ever doubt,

Rewind. Pause. Re-listen
I have this.
And probably finding meaning where there is none.
But proof.

I say this now with the full naivety of love
*shakes head* - stop. sorry, no I won’t

I feel full. Trust. A morphine, hazy & pain free
I’d love to step inside your sleep and see what is so funny

A none describable urgency
But what’s the rush?
Having the confidence to believe that I won’t ruin it.
The tug of war, of ambition & giving up

Unopened letters
Etched with thoughts, uncontrolled, quick yet reading them back
Pity.

Having the confidence to vocalise.
Instead, scared.

Lying in the face of danger.
Keep you voice light, vocalise your faults and grin like an idiot.

Just Tired.

Fitfully sleeping,

dreaming and awaking

feeling much more exhausted than when I initially went to bed.

A jumbled story, with a mix match of memories that don't actually exist.

The lightheaded feeling, that actually leaves you feeling a little sick.

with Nerves.

Getting out of bed late, my mind doing overtime, questioning my motives

I catching a glimpse of my face

Rough Night Then.

Seeking comfort making breakfast, watching telly before heading back to bed.

"Get Up!" i insist, "run a bath and stop"

cba

Spending longer than usual painting my face.

How textbook of me.

hmmm, still look shit.

My mind wanders, what is it that is instilled into us that makes us crave

Romance, a happy ending.

Setting yourself up for a let down, tears and heartbreak to follow.

...I can't wait...

Critically I survey my wardrobe

nothings suitable.

Preparation

List for London is distinctly lacking. 

A French Conn Dress that looks shit without a belt,

but is too baggy for one.

Black leggings that are rapidly fading.

White baggy top, hangs like a tent.

White & Black leggings are okay.

If you want to spend the day pulling them up.

Green Urban Sandals, double-check the weather forecast

RAIN Monday - Tuesday. 

Grey pumps - make your feet 

STINK!

Brolly. of course. 

Blue swallow dress, massive arse. 

Red belt, emphasis' the chest

Flower dress, recently shrunk...don't trust Donna to do your washing. 

and Pjs. 

Good start then. 

Handbag

The inside of a handbag tells you a lot.
Its like putting a story together.
Its the relevance of a handbag; carrying objects which you 'might' need.

A belt
Nail Varnish
Offer letter from Uni
5 different pens.
3 blue, 2 black.

A pearl necklace and the contraceptive patch.
The remains of a weekend you are trying to remember

Matches,
A tally chart
Gallery timetable
and lipgloss.

Vanity in a handbag.
How much you think about your appearance.

Body butter - free with a magazine
Ipod, minus the earphones
earrings
and receipts, receipts, recepits.

And really how much of it do you need?
All of it!

House keys, mobile, purse.
The bear necessasities.
The things your heart races without, that spreads panic and a look of worry without.

A cardigan (how sensible)
Sunglasses
A buss pass, work pass
and a huge purple ring
OF COURSE!

The size of the bag, obviously
suitcase size.

The weight? suprisingly light
A life in a bag.

Wage slip, bank details
BILLS BILLS BILLS.
Hairgrips and deodarant.

A weeks worth of shit
& what do you need it for?

Sunshine

dress caught in a gust of wind this morning and blew right up,
this normally would send me in a self conscious panic.
"Pull it down!!, check no one saw me"
Instead I smile. Before grapping a fist full of fabric to hold it still.

beads of sweat gather already at my brow.
08:14am the clock on my monitor reads.

yesterday, i came across a past conversation
i wish i hadn't
an insight to a relationship, that didn't quite match the picture i had in my mind.

my hands shook as they gave my feelings away
"Why you shaking"
"I duno" i answer, a sullen teen not daring to look up, my feelings betrayed on my face and the hurt in my eyes for all to see.

the sun outside makes me want to run from the confines of the office
jump in my car
and roadtrip.

the sensible in me tells me
"No, you haven't even opened your inbox yet"
but the reckless in me says
"Fuck it, treat yourself"

i double click the inbox.
21 emails.

Disillusioned

When you go to University and study for your degree what the knowledgeable tutors don't tell you is that once you graduate, you will be in so much debt that you can't possibly do the nice teacher training course you kind of wanted to do, and really all your qualified in is to make 'pretty pictures'.

They won't tell you in the long speech at your graduation that although Well Done for getting the 2:1 which you really worked hard for, when it really does comes down to it, the only thing that is going to help you get anywhere is the fact that you have worked in the Health Records department at your local hospital while you were painting those 'pretty pictures' that helped you gain the 2:1 your family are proud of you for.

So now when I sit at my desk which fortunately has a window seat and I type out letter after monotonous letter I can't help but think 'This can't be it'.

Being disillusioned at 23, is not a good look.