like bloodshed in the cold

"true words are not beautiful... beautiful words are not true." - d'agata & fingal, the lifespan of a fact

[clutteredribs]

throw me off a fucking cliff (4/3/15)

i am weeding into this corner spreading and choking on the air being sucked from my chest paralysed by my heart stuttering and the laughing bleeds through my ears

use me and let me feel my stomach drop out from under me hunched in silence i count (the ways in which) paper cutting my bloodstream clutch me in your arms and maybe (i might die) i’ll write you a poem

[clutteredribs]

(i wrote this in the hospital 24 hours after having keyhole surgery)

my punctures are blooming like summer daisies

but peeling and pink edges wash off with the rain

this body is quaking like  the earth does sometimes

the water jug tells me that all is still

but me 

[clutteredribs]

the lights we chase, the nights we steal. the things that we take to make us feel this. i can't go back, don't think i will. i won't sleep tonight as long as i still hear the drums of the city rain...

brother (gerard way)

[clutteredribs]

doubt

watching the backs of heads celebrate inside my body and the sacred slope of my back i thought i wrote i thought about my toes

on morning dew grass and scorched summer sand with sharp shells and abandoned castles and the beach inside this book is falling falling shaken smooth

cardigan shoulders hope to hold them in my palms hope to know the corners of perhaps the dust in my bones won’t dream like yesterday’s eyes

push me out with warm soft fingers drop from my gut cleansing darling you will be all right gazing stars still glow at night they’ll be there and the sun will rise

[clutteredribs]

“to the whole world in its entirety”

i have darkness i have keyboard fingers and calm sweater shoulders milk and honey lips kissing no-one brave like glory

but my nerves won’t allow me (i’m weeping i’m weeping) to say

that winter breath cuts in the lamplight the moon behind the clouds (well i’m) and that vodka

gazing but you will never taste (well i’m just pathetic) well i

well i never said the words were mine to use i never said 

[captainfries]

You should never trust a writer, because they are like sirens luring you into the sweet but dark places of life.

A.W 

[clutteredribs]

windowbox secrets

the empty bottles offer no comfort standing, floorbound they were poems flowing

to the page to the screen to the eyes of marble strangers

through my shaking bones and i am still afraid.

they pumped me full of happy but i stare at pixels and i do not smile

i am aching in my veins i am milk white skin cold sweat cold heart

i am no match for mascara eyes

[clutteredribs]

dear followers,

apologies for the lack of writing over the past few months. i don't really have an excuse. i guess my inky fingers dried up over summer, but hopefully i'll be able to get myself back into the swing of things over the next few days/weeks. please have faith in me, heaven knows i need it right now. 

love love love,  georgia 

[clutteredribs]

dear,

V i’m sorry i can’t be what you want

IV would it be different if we’d made it to the first kiss?

III it fills my heart with joy to see you happy with her

II i wrote you a poem and now the words are inked on the pages forever

I it’s taken me all this time and i still haven’t found myself

[clutteredribs]

it’s been so long since i wrote a poem

did you think..,,

i could be apart of a dream apart from you

i saw how my hands don’t feel right with the short nails

greasy haired couch surfing on a sea of carpet burn

crying,,,

great big ukulele blues tune it twist it finger bleeding twangalang

my computer keys are now piano keys

this deck of cards is changing now 

[clutteredribs]

magpies and ink

it’s after midnight in fact it’s 3.13am and i have been drinking when your friends don’t come to your party maybe you are nothing more than ribs nothing more than a xylophone or tunes and clear water 

if i sat in my room and ate if i could not stop could not stop consuming my own self 

would i only be skeleton and broken jars? 

if tequila was my blood i don’t think i would be anyone else i don’t think difference would be me

if the lights don’t stop glowing my eyes are lights that are glowing dreaming blue and hurting

i am not a part of the phone book in the world of numbers i do not exist

i do not know the droplets of mirror-bottles i do not they didn’t come here and i didn’t either glass fill my veins and

i don’t like you any more 

[clutteredribs]

hurt girl eyes

i am made of star dust but i am so far from the sky and even further away from feeling okay

maybe you’re right when you tell me i don’t need anyone but myself

but if i can’t love the way i sleep or my hairy legs then who will?

blanket the blow when sadness calls fill me up with meds and slow my heart a little more

if it stopped do you think the flowers would still grow?

[clutteredribs]

i want to cry so i wrote this poem instead

take me home take me to the lakes where the eels are thicker than my legs and the water is so cold it jump-starts my aching heart and makes me alive again

take me out take me to the sky show me how the stars burn scorching hot and let me feel bigger than the world and bigger than i could ever be tonight

take me up take me to your bed watch my frozen blood become poetry right before your eyes and breathe into my hair like everything will be okay

take me on take me to the darkened city tell me about the faceless people and hold me when these words are all i have kiss me just once like i am all you ever knew 

[clutteredribs]

day two

it has been so long but the ground has stopped shaking. now it is only i who cannot stop, i cannot breathe, i am twitching broken i am the walking earthquake. my chest could be open

and bleeding but i would still feel this heart beat the same. sometimes the sirens are real but tonight they blare through my head, and i can’t stand the silence. i am chaotic i am

scared and the only pretty parts of this are the lines of my poems and the punch of these words. don’t beat yourself up. i’ve had enough to wear me down and i won’t shed my tears for you. i won’t say a thing for you.

[clutteredribs]

i started new meds today

hey hey what is what is this alert i am a lert i am lerting alert awake and strung out right on edge (in the soft light my heart is dancing ba-boom-boom) we are here i am here my eyes won’t close and my mouth doesn’t fit fuck what is this i am rabbit rabbit down the hole down my dreams but not asleep not as leep flower my skin flowers (this is an odd feeling) all dug up i c an’t i don’t and i know i am only quivering bones and flesh

[clutteredribs]

this is a poem about periods and sex and babies 1.42am, 28/9/13

vivid dreams are all i know so bright so electric eyes and this month i saw red and next month i will see red too right between my legs like a hand playing rough with my insides red down my stretch marks like a tiger or a zebra striped and rippled every month i bleed out my red ink words all the words i could say and every biological possibility if only i allowed it if i shared my blood with the other half of the conceptual equation imagine the names imagine the little hands i could create 

[clutteredribs]

here's a poem i wrote about a girl a while back but i never posted it. i guess i've stopped waiting and i guess it doesn't matter that she won't read my poetry any more. 

invisible alphabet

tomorrow you’re coming over it’s been a few weeks since i’ve seen you now and i know i will have to start all over again because writing my way away from you only works when you are not a soul away from mine

but you don’t believe it when i see the stars shining in your eyes and you get drunken mad when my words spill from my fingers and i know i shouldn't stay like this but i am addicted to feeling and these letters are my drug

maybe when we walk down the street i will pluck you a daisy and hand it to you with a smile because it’s the only way you’ll listen and it’s another way to tell you how i’m stuck here waiting and writing poems you won’t read