POETRY [UNTITLED SERIES] – 24

Nightmares End

In the end

There was only one truth

a nightmare can only end when you wake up

With a single blade I’ll cave my exit

in time I’ll trust the half to someone who wants to fight with me

I am whole enough to fight alone

And my heart is open enough to believe I won’t have to.

POETRY [UNTITLED SERIES] – 23

There is a curse that will be broken

Slash & Burn Tactics

Purge me and cure me in the fire

I screamed for mercy

I begged for release

I begged to die

Incredulous

That being burned alive, my intestines shreaking, my skin sizzling

The smell of burnt hair, urine and death

Burned at the stake

Like my ancesters before me

Would lead me to anything more than an ash pile

Reveals me in my truest form

I

Did

Not

Die

Metamorphosis

Into a being of fire, water, air and earth

There is a curse that will be broken

POETRY [UNTITLED SERIES] – 22

Keep Forgiving

“I don’t think I’m there yet.”

Is all I could think of as the crown of daisies circle my arm

A reminder to keep forgiving

Is it ironic that my favourite flower is a weed?

I guess it depends on what you want to do with your lawn

My yard is now filling with wildflowers

Healing from the years of distruction

As they bloom so do I

Signalling what I knew all along;

There is nothing left but forgiveness.

A Response to Correspondence: A Birthday Treat

This piece is based on Levi the Poets album Correspondence and was inspired by a message Levi sent to me through email via his newsletter of wanting to be apart of my birthday.

Going 30 and being without friends, family and loved ones makes this birthday more bitter than sweet. But I’m sustained, blessed and completely indebted to my friends that are worldwide for loving me through this time. To you all, I can’t thank you enough for the salve that’s been made purely from your love and kindness to help ease my wounds.

Without you I would have bled out long ago.

Please enjoy Levi the Poets album which you can find below.

Correspondence (A Fiction) Levi The Poet
https://open.spotify.com/album/1tMDd5WRS5SQmhUrD8VV8d?si=rjyBd115SIuQKmw–MoBnQ


Hi Levi,
I don’t know if you’ll even get to read this let alone recognise me. I’m @ThisIsSpecious from twitter where we talked about how I used your verses as vows. 


If you’ll forgive me for it, I’d like to meet your verse with my own. A Response to Correspondence. I do not know.


I just wanted to thank you for this, as both the captain of the ship and the mercliest tide has taken my love to sea. I woke up to find his raft has sliped from the docks without a word or whisper. 


I still don’t know if his raft is lost at sea or merely docked somewhere I cant reach. I have no idea what to believe, but it pulls me beyond myself like I never had a choice.


On the week of a milestone I turn to the verse that hangs on the wall about the moon guiding you safely to me. But what joy can be found in 30 when there is nothing to come home to?


I sit in our treehouse that sits rotting from the rain, eroding from the pain as the boards creek under my feet and gives way to my weigh I wonder how much load there is to bear. Will I ever be able to plant my feet? 


The fruits of the tree no longer give life, rotten or empty husks. We swore when pruning the decay from the roots that we knew the consequences. Yet, I sit alone now unable to multiply while your seeds can bear life outside of me. 


It was for the health of the tree to cure the rot but you poured that out with me like the perbebial babe in the bathwater and I’m left naked and alone and afraid. 


How can a flower bloom once its been picked? On the life support of sweetened water and salt it may grow roots or it may rot. How can I choose when I’ve already been severed from the body? 


He was a mountain to me, an unshakeable, unsinkable force. The world never got inside of his boat or so i thought. Maybe i couldn’t see the nucks and the holes. Captived by strong sturdy sides and polish. A fine vessel. Only to reveal its rot was also to its core. 


It never bothered me, the work that goes into repair. As an endlessly broken creature I know the work that goes into making things whole again. The curing and puring of fire and water. The removal of impurities only to be crushed up and fed to flame again.

 
And again


Again


I don’t know how to sit still when everything is burning. Setting myself on fire only to be tempered by the rot and damp of the wood from our treehouse leaves me paralysed. It cannot burn with me nor can the damp put me out. 


So i sit here inbetween the smell of burnt skin, blistering pain, rotten wood and smoke and flame. 


Praying. Begging for pain. Begging for movement. 


Only to know my form will reveal me as something new by the end and while I hear of the phonixs glory no one ever talks about how it feels to be burnt alive. 


And i am constantly burning.


On the 30th milestone I sit alone in our treehouse. There are no birds that sing, no friends to greet and nothing to celebrate. You never celebrate the death of a tree or the plucking of a flower. 


You’re just left to sit there and silently weep. 



I kinda wrote this off the top of my head so im sorry if it doesnt make sense.


Looking forward to hearing from you if the glass bottle makes its way across the divide. 


Spec


Spoken word version of A Response to Correspondence: A Birthday Treat

POETRY [UNTITLED SERIES] – 19

Nothing was Different

The sun still rises and falls every night

The rain still falls and rises

Both give and take away life

As the moon watches on

Where do we go when we sleep?

Why do you visit me in my dreams?

Why do I wake up alone?

POETRY [UNTITLED SERIES] – 18

Everything Has Changed

It’s in the things that are put away

The shelves that line the walls

The washing machine that spins

The food in the fridge

It’s in the music that plays

The clothes put away after 6 months of sitting in the kitchen

The wedding suit that is folded and put under the stairs

The crop top that cuts me off at the right points

It’s in the reflection in the mirror

The person who stares at me that I recognise as

Beautiful

POETRY [UNTITLED SERIES] – 16

I have always loved the sea

It’s been a place of refuge and safety for all of my years

It’s the place I return to when all things go

Much like the sky, and how I feel about stars

I’m always returned to wherever they are


You were like the waves that crashed on the shore

Consistent

Soothing

Enevitable

I never thought I could drown in your sea

In the blue of your eyes

In the vastness of that ocean


I remember now that I was born of shards of twilight

of whispers

of promises

of boundless beauty

of light

I am what lights the way when all other lights go out

I am the magician

I am the revealer of truths

I am what pulls you to meet the shore


Without me there would be no sea

Nothing to ground yourself upon

Nothing else to reap


If you cannot guide my way home, I must light a path for myself

Just know, as my light turns blue, you were the only thing I needed before I realised I needed my light more.

“Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone.

Without a dream in my heart.

Without a love of my own.”

POETRY [UNTITLED SERIES] – 15

There is a rush in the tide as the storm breaks through to land

Knowing what you have done and how blind you are to it

How you’d hurt him without knowing what is going on

How you still call me sick

Your words break like waves upon the shore

You don’t control me

The air roars and the rain clatters

Little do you know that I’m more powerful than anything you can summon

I am a master of my own ship

The sea belongs to me

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