★★ Spreading Gemini Love

★★ Gemini, 28, Literature lover from London This blog is made up of fictional stories and poetry. I hope you enjoy my blog! I write from a personal place and these posts are definitely not meant to be offensive to anyone. This blog is just for fun and expressing myself on this platform is very cathartic for me. Everything here is my own, except posts tagged otherwise. Also dealing with the 'Gemini hate meme' for fun :) Main - inimegemini.tumblr.com

[geminiswords]

Front-page friend

I saw my friend, front-page cover On BBC news. She holds a sign, Black Lives Matter And I cried. Like the rain in June The weather suddenly changed its tune When George Floyd died. Her beautiful face is covered by a mask And I have to ask When you look at the picture Why you judge the pain Of the people More than the murder itself? And of course We’ve lost our trust in the police force Our trust in the world - We trust in the girl On the front-page cover Black Lives Matter. I will never understand you But I will stand with you. I know we have work to do - It is our job to educate our race One human race. And our daughters and sons Will one day live without guns In a fairer world.

[geminiswords]

Birthday blues

I turned nineteen and moved back home. I was one with the ground, made peace with the earth, happy with the nothing I had. My mum came into my room the next morning on my twentieth birthday. I wasn’t tracking the days so I wasn’t really aware of anything else other than that nothingness. I remember crying when she said happy birthday. I needed that jolt to wake up, I think. A preview of myself in my thirties, reluctantly invited out by friends who knew I was a downer but gracious enough to be seen with me anyway. A lost cause. Self-diagnosed with the birthday blues.

When I was seventeen and my garden was dark, I remember him wanting to leave early. That was the first and last time I would ever beg a man to stay. Funny how shitty people can be but they will only take notice of the crying, crazy girl on the ground. I see the cool kids chilling on the blue trampoline from my childhood. The same trampoline in that picture of us on my tenth birthday. I hate hosting parties but would continue to do so for years. The same anxiety within me on my son’s first birthday, wondering if you’d show up. You didn’t.

Birthdays should be happy. I appreciate them more now I’ve witnessed a birth. Given birth. And they can be very happy. I was there for my own birth obviously, but I wasn’t really there, you know? I have to imagine how happy my mum must have been when she saw my face for the first time. And now I’m complaining. Not because I’m growing older, but because I just hate birthdays. Specifically my birthday. Let’s celebrate something else, anything else but me and my birthday.

I bet you’re the type to take pictures of yourself after a crying episode. Black mascara running down your red cheeks. Like some sad and dramatic music video. There was a period of time when I’d not cry at all. Maybe I was a sociopathic robot after all, incapable of the act.

I remember crying for more serious things. Death. Abuse. Miscarriages. Bad people. The state of our planet. My birthday. Things like that. Heartbreak isn’t that serious.

Phew, I thought you were going to cry. Thank you for not crying. I don’t cry. Why did I tell them I don’t cry? And why did they thank me? Why are people scared of crying? Sometimes you need a good cry. Bonus points if it’s on your birthday. Birthday. Worth-day. Girth-day. Hearth-day. Re-birth-day.

[geminiswords]

The star-signs as people I’ve known

Aries. I don’t know if I want to be you Or I want to be with you You always speak up for the outcast Or you are the outcast I speak up for You always let me talk Express my truth I love your honesty Your truth isn’t harsh like Sagittarius But it cuts deep The type to own up for something They did wrong years ago I respect you so much But you forgot about me

Taurus. Wise beyond your years You see into my soul Which annoys me every time You sneak a peek You like your own space Too proud to see what’s in front of you You never go back on your word Another angry voice in the crowd The mob demands justice You wonder why people disappear When you have so much to give Better for everyone to run away When you see red We clash when we’re together I’m sad we are apart My dad

Gemini. You are me But I’ve known more talkative Geminis More outgoing, cool Geminis More I Don’t Give A Fuck Geminis I am not that Gemini But I have two sides Oh yes Always at conflict Quiet and kind Loud and obnoxious  Overthinking every thought I’ve ever had Now I’ve found my twin I’ve found my peace Drives me insane You’re my kind of crazy  Does that make sense?

Cancer. You didn’t believe in love Like you didn’t believe in me The aspiring Soft Boi You’re so naïve yet so Easy to set off Easy to love Hard to crack You can try too hard Impressing the wrong people If you’d let someone in It doesn’t have to be me I’d be happy forever The type you’d stay up all night with Chewing through the fat Never getting to the centre How frustrating

Leo. Very real people They’ll tell you straight if you’ve upset them And want what’s best for you A Libra with a backbone I like that I meet another Leo and think You’ll do well in life Yes, you’ll do nicely The butterfly I let go Will you come back? My secret love I keep for all the lions As they hold themselves high Keep everything together For the sake of everyone else I like that Bit vain though

Virgo. Honestly? I’ve known some clingy ones Some have been my best friends Fond of silence Better on their own And won’t think twice About shutting you out They’re the worriers The high-achievers The convincing virgin  Is extremely loving  Ruled by Mercury We communicate well  But I don’t know if I can take Another sideways glance From another perfect Virgo

Libra. When I think of you I think of my childhood friend My auntie My son I wonder who you’ll be  A breath of fresh air My partner in crime The lovers of harmony The ones with the know-how To get away with murder Sweet-talkers Escape-artists From unsavoury situations And you always look good How do you do it?

Scorpio. If you’ve ever been close with a Scorpio You’re one of the lucky ones You passed their test Jumped through the hoops Dodged every bullet they sent your way Even held their hand And loved them hard Was it worth it? Oh, yes and no I always wonder if you’d still like me If I wasn’t your daughter

Sagittarius. You have your own philosophy My opposite sign Sometimes profound, but mostly stoned Probably the wildest people I’ve ever known And they know it too They’ll lead you into fire And you’ll follow Half-burnt to a crisp Before you realise You’ve got to get back to your day-job And they’ll carry on with their journey With or without you

Capricorn. The responsible sea-goat I’m no match for you You’d get bored of me My lack of ambition Versus your enviable drive Productivity oozing out of your ears The definition of Work Hard, Play Hard I know you hate people But your replies are wordy and thoughtful You’re at war with yourself As you cling to the Earth The physical world is trustworthy But there are things you can’t explain And only so many hours in a day A life cut short

Aquarius. Is it just me or Does every Aquarius have this thing about them Like they want to say just one more thing But they always stop themselves Something is bothering you A thousand feelings repressed Pushed down deep You’ll explode one day But don’t worry I’ll be there crying for you To love me again Not again We’ve both evolved To support and build each other up Instead of that pointless competition Who’s smarter than who I talk to a brick wall No one cares now but you

Pisces. Your modesty is endearing But you’ve got to own what you’ve got And you’ve got it Assert yourself Set those boundaries You’re stronger than you think But you’d rather avoid confrontation altogether Walked away When I needed to see you We live in different worlds A half-hearted grunt through the speaker A reluctant nod from me You can’t see A phone-call won’t cut it Not this time

[geminiswords]

The child-minder story

A sister and a brother. One is five, the other only two. They sit silently on the floor, backs against the sofa, for the entire evening until their parents return. I think she actually told the girl off once, for calling the sofa a sofa, and not a couch. Of course it doesn’t matter at all now. And they weren’t allowed to sit on the damn thing anyway. A sofa that seems larger-than-life when you’re five and two, and a regular every-day object transforms into a holy throne for privileged asses only. A forbidden mountain looming scary and intimidating and you’ll never look at a sofa in the same way again. Sorry, a couch!!!

One of those wretched “behaviour charts” hangs off the fridge, full of unhappy faces to match the two in the living room. The girl was so eager to please the fat woman that she stupidly agreed to the chart, even though the girl was as good as gold at school and at home and behaviour charts are really weird things anyway because I was always told there’s no such thing as a naughty child, only wrong choices and did no one put two and two together when the girl would cling to her teacher’s legs eyes hazy from crying so hard but never melting down like that when her mummy would pick her up instead of the fat woman oh no I think some parents did express their concern when they witnessed the fat woman shouting at the boy in the playground who wasn’t even of school age yet but was the same age as her own son so I guess she felt she could treat them like shit because her own children were shit. The brother only remembers the fat woman breaking his toy car, on purpose may I add, to teach him some sort of twisted lesson. May I also add that the brother is the sweet and quiet type, two years old at the time and definitely didn’t need to be shut down quite so dramatically like that and had to watch whilst the rat-children of the fat woman scoffed down the cakes they had all made together moments before – another warped decision made by the fat woman.

Rat-girl throws herself into the television-set after she refuses to push her into it herself which obviously makes a loud crash sound and the girl has to admit what she’d done otherwise she’d be branded a liar. One time, rat-girl had wanted the girl to pull down her school tights and knickers which was a questionable request from a 5-year-old and does ring some alarm bells today. The girl refused, as usual, but eventually had to write out an apology letter saying sorry. This went on for quite a while and the girl would always say yes, she had harmed rat-girl in some way even though she didn’t. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was easier to just own up instead of going round and round in circles until she was finally broken by the fat woman to confess. The real reason was that fat woman had forced the girl to physically wash her mouth out with soap. With a real bar of soap and water running from the bathroom tap. This is a very vivid memory. Have you ever been forced to eat soap? Thankfully, rat-girl wasn’t so clever in the end. Her final crime was a hard bite on the inside of her elbow, self-inflicted and red-raw. The stupid thing was, rat-girl was missing her two front-teeth and this was clearly evidenced by the bite-grooves in her arm which showed the missing teeth. As well as the fact that the girl couldn’t have put her mouth on the inside of rat-girl’s elbow. It was such an awkward position for someone else to get into. So that was the end of it. No more child-minders and the sister and brother were looked after by their grandparents from then on. It’s good the new baby sister never had to endure being looked after by someone who didn’t love her.

She gives away her most valuable possession for them to look after for the day. A neat exchange over the gate and a fresh-smelling parcel moves from one pair of hands to another. The parcel always comes home a bit stinky and wrapped up in another parcel’s clothes, but this is a sign of a good time, surely? The first time was hard. What with her deeply-ingrained hatred of childcare providers and especially child-minders who eventually care about the money more than the actual job of looking after the child-parcel. Or is that simply an accurate description of every attitude ever towards a job ever? Money over substance? I’ve seen it first-hand. Teachers who think they know better than the parents and vice-versa. I’m a teacher. Not a saviour. And yes, I respect the profession as much as I abhor it. The baby-room babies need to feel loved, safe and cared for because they are babies. But how can I expect the nursery to love my child as much as I do? Well, that’s impossible. Even half as much as I do? Will I love every child I encounter during my long reign as a teacher? Helicopters will land outside my school, a monstrous view from the windows as the intruders sneak a peek, make sure their goods have arrived and settled well. Fair enough really.

Start them young, they said. And we’re all in such a rush to have the next baby, the next holiday, to finally be qualified to teach a child. But parents are teachers and they will copy everything we do. Don’t you dare tell me he needs time away from me in order to become more independent, he wasn’t even one when I hand-delivered him over the gate that first day. And oh god you’d never even send him to nursery under the age of three if you didn’t need to. You can’t leave him an only child, he’ll never learn how to share. You’d better have a baby soon or you’ll have a huge age-gap and they’ll never get along. But god help you if you have another boy because they’ll be fighting all the time you know. You regret sharing so much. They didn’t deserve to know you like that. Now you reflect upon each post you share to social media, revealing only the carefully-selected happy moments of your life. Do they see your success or remember the secret you shared, sullying any attempt at appearing accomplished? Why do we all feel the need to prove ourselves anyway? You don’t need to prove you are living your best life when it’s an objective truth that you are definitely happier than you ever were especially when you thought your life ended at nineteen and you’ve done so many wonderful things since then. How can there be an objective truth though when we are all living our own truths and one person’s truth will certainly differ from mine or yours. At least tell me you understand my world view and I won’t force you to live according to my truth or even agree with me. Oh, writing is so one-sided. It is unfair how you hear me but I don’t hear you.

[geminiswords]

The enigma

If she stopped, the world would stop with her Okay, maybe not But there would definitely be an earthquake Or some other natural disaster Let me help you for once

Is it luck to have someone in your life Who would do anything for you Or does it render you immobile Without a left hand Unable to do anything for yourself

I paint thick strokes, too dark Too wet and clumsy She takes after her mother That’s a very attractive sketch Do it again, in my GCSE art book

Unfinished but well on its way Creating layer after layer Finished whenever she decides to sit down See the world in watercolour Radiate impossible optimism

Lady Godiva wants her horse back Cuts off her nose to spite her face Admire her from afar Appreciate her gall A wild heart in exactly the right place

Like the Amazonian removing her breasts Still nursing her children Fires perfect arrows Into the hearts of her enemies They never got a word in

Not perfect, but then Are you? Her snide remarks cut you in half Clever and intimidating The scorpion protective of her brood

Hair full of secrets A tangled web of information hoarded Some useful, some strange Beautifully strange A curly hideaway for my brother’s hand

There’s another layer Sorrow she keeps close Easily pushed to tears Hold your tongue She’ll remember everything you said

A method to the madness Her to-do list runs across the school track 1500 metres of paper Coming first every time Every time

[geminiswords]

The star-signs during the modern apocalypse

Aries. You went in all-guns-blazing Backing out when you realised You built an army on behalf of someone who didn’t deserve it An old friend confused about what they wanted Channel your energy towards saving the many, not the few Or chase your heart’s desire Regrets happen when you follow the crowd Herd immunity was a terrible plan in hindsight We’ve all caught it apart from you That’s good You don’t want what we have anyway

Taurus. You shouted at me in front of our neighbours All in the name of self-care You wanted to know the difference between Right and wrong I told you there was nothing to it, my love And you bought me lunch Whilst I painted your beautiful face Return to your guilty pleasures Focus on something else Your trivial lifestyle  And keep our quarrels private Please Sew your mouth shut Until the end of the world, at least

Gemini. You were the so-called-friend They called when they needed advice We didn’t want you here at the beginning We didn’t want weeds in our bed But you charmed us somehow, and now we’re sorry You were so good A passive entity waiting to strike Documenting everything But you never moved Waited around for Mr Right Picked and tossed aside For someone better

Cancer. I never realised The human touch could be so tender But you didn’t listen to our warnings The lovers you left on the side of the road Treated like royalty then left to die Taurus was angry When you climbed back into your shell Until the the end of the season Left us to clean up by ourselves You’re forgiven

Leo. We wanted a distraction So you put on my favourite hat And did a cat-walk in the living room You never took anything seriously Until the moonlight shone on the spot you tried to cover up With toothpaste Burned a hole through your ego Long legs up to your neck Half-swallowed by my stupid hat So you ate it first A game of who wore it better I’ll remember you As an untamed mass of inside jokes

Virgo. You expected us to respond instantly You told us to carry on as normal Make light of it like Scorpio But we weren’t allowed to wash ourselves Without a Peeping Tom at our foggy windows Yes, we saw you Hit your vulnerable parts with ease An axe through your perfect heart If only you judged us half as much As you judge yourself We might have got somewhere

Libra. They never suspected you You fed us every day at 6 o’clock Five courses following the rules of the food pyramid Kept us to a regular routine So we wouldn’t notice the destruction outside Involved yourself in a messy love triangle A cheap thrill Gaining our love with freshly-prepared meals I admired you from a distance The innocent deer revealed by my headlights Who’s side are you on? The parent-pigs turned to tripe

Scorpio. You probably started the end of the world Or else will soon save us With your amazing ideas You keep to yourself Admit it The revolver in the study Committed overkill Kicked us whilst we were down You revelled in the sight of our squirming bodies And kept our clothes clean Just to see us naked Disinfected with a taste of your own medicine Bleached out the magic words That would have saved us  Your gullible victims Hey, you’ve got to get out of this what you can I don’t blame you

Sagittarius. You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you? An unusual situation but you feel at home And suddenly we’re creatures of the earth Home-grown and made of stardust Connected to one another Whether we like it or not Forced to think like you The way you always think too deeply With eyes that have seen too much This isn’t your first rodeo The bravest of us all

Capricorn. We begged you to let your guard down Like you did the first time We know you’ve given up on saving the world We won’t take advantage again A promise immediately broken Trust no sign And work on your legacy Humming to that annoying tune you like Spreading your coffee-breath like a virus Encouraging Leo’s fancies You leave everyone a piece of you in your will And we go wow, they actually cared Who knew?

Aquarius. You’ve taught us a lesson As you watch from your solitary cliff Home-schooling the babies Along with Sagittarius We wonder how you both climbed so high No expression, not a crack in your demeanour The silent watcher on the wall Everything fell apart around you And you didn’t stir Said nothing But you laugh on the inside Just like god

Pisces. Oh darling, I’ll protect you Even though you picked them over me Even though your lack of self-worth drives me insane Even though you haven’t brushed your hair in a week They don’t deserve you And the PPE irritates your skin Too good for this world But we can watch the end together My favourite ghost Mr Right

[geminiswords]

My rainbow window

So cut away your split ends The way you cut out the old faces you still think about at 2am Won’t let go, a reminder they still exist Won’t be reunited even after all of this You hope they’re alright

But they didn’t care when he was born Your peace child failed, unaware of the chaos you made Blaming yourself for irreparable friendships They would’ve stayed if they were meant to stay And anyway, he’s here now The Baba protected by Ali Earth angel of your life

So spend the days in hibernation A horse-field tortoise moving too slow You want to achieve something great Keep yourself busy and soak up his smile Absorbing everything you say Make a conscious effort to remember this

Doodle on the walls for all I care A newly-discovered face in the hallway Carefully drawn by a younger self 2 metres apart Not yet infected with hate And the pressure of high expectations Oh you always think about yourself When people are dying

The sky is empty and you can’t stop your online shopping There’s productivity in staying home Paying for things you can’t afford A collection of rags to add To the pile of rags Gathered over 20 years And never thrown away Precious time half-wasted Expecting everyone to love you A forgotten statue in the sand

Alone and useless to good society Takes one more victim Your past dreams of healing hands, a premonition of fame How selfish can you be Cure the corona If only you could Bad publicity is publicity after all Any form of recognition will do The infamous whore of Greenwich The serpent under the flower The virus isn’t you

There’s something in the way he used to hold your sister Playing piano at the dinner table A little rag-doll, a better grandad than a dad She taught you how to pretend Dance without music Pantomimes at Christmas in their memory But you didn’t live happily ever after

The red devil on your back Smaller than before Reveals the cracks in your plans In everyone’s plans A summer scratched out We’ll look back one day And remember this time We spent in limbo Horribly aware of our privilege Stick a rainbow on your window To feel something

A worldwide pandemic of vanity We upload more and do less You’re annoying yourself Can’t even bake banana bread Applauding those who escape into virtual worlds With virtual debt Repeating the same mistakes inside the safe walls of a game The safe walls of your home For god’s sake, stay home

Parents compete to be the best teachers Children complete 50 lessons a day We wonder who has achieved the most Who is simply surviving You know the world is ending But his wink was very reassuring His sly wink meant just for you

Work out every day at 9am To keep yourself trim But there’s lots of biscuits in the biscuit tin Think of your figure, your cascading princess locks Your fleeting youth and the wrinkles only you see You know germs aren’t romantic One cancelled wedding is much like another And a funeral you can’t attend Book a holiday with your student loan And look after yourself, I suppose

Outside, the buildings sway Like some black and white film Grainy and out of reach Inside, millions of lives being lived Paintings painted by someone in their lonely room A masterpiece no one will see The queen does a speech And everyone sees

My love is looking after me Thank you for my peppermint tea Thank you for all the small things I always took for granted My rainbow window And this shit poem

[geminiswords]

Hashtag quarantine

He sits in his moon-chair a mini-moon, pale and interesting, eyes fixed on the tiger who came to tea. Oh, no. Eyes droopy, slipping easily into baby-dreams. His world hasn’t changed at all, yet the rest of us joke about painting red crosses like x-marks-the-spot on our doors, waiting for the blonde-haired buffoon to grace our screens and ground us for a couple more weeks. A faux-fatherly overlord I didn’t vote for. Honestly, I prefer the tiger. At least he’s straightforward with his intentions and eats the food he needs without hoarding. He wakes up to wave goodbye to his stripy friend. He says die instead of bye.

21-year-old with no underlying health conditions dies due to virus.

This isn’t how I envisioned my Easter break but it’s a chance to spend more time with him, as everything is closed and we Must Stay Home. Mulling over dystopian fiction and shaking our heads at the wild animals fighting over scraps of toilet roll. Scrolling, scrolling through hundreds of lives coping as best they can, checking up on family members and weirdly feeling more connected than ever. People indulge in neglected hobbies but I can’t face my crochet when the weather is so nice and no one needs a new hat. It’s an interesting break from life I would have killed for as a teenager. It’s hard to remember that not everyone is having a great time, and obviously a lot of people are ill, but I can’t help but consider how nothing has changed for him, and all of those too young to understand.

Millions clap outside their homes for NHS workers on the front lines.

Outside, fake news spreads. Dolphins are swimming in the canals of Venice and the world heals itself. I’m sure some of it is true, but not everyone follows the rules and a lot of people are ignoring the warnings so don’t expect to solve the climate crisis overnight!!! I hated when I was changing his bum and she remarked reason number 101 not to have a child. Thinking back on it now, she might have had a point. Bringing a child into the world when his future is so uncertain. Live for your favourite food, the sun on your face, whatever the reason just live. His hair creates a golden halo around his face as he waddles around the garden and I realise I live for him.

Prime minister shows symptoms of virus.

I know what it feels like when words are just strange symbols on a page and what’s the point in doing this anyway, surely not for myself? I’m not a good enough reason. It’s funny how some people deal with problems by joking about serious subject matter. Dark humour would usually repulse Someone Like Me, but I find that I’ve finally got my life together this year and then a virus comes along and takes everything away. That’s funny apparently. Hashtag quarantine. It happened to my fiancé too. You’d think they’d want more volunteers at the hospitals but we’ve been grounded remember? We’re all too old for this and the freedom-loving Brits meet up in packs of 6 or more. That goes against government advice and I realise that freedom-loving actually translates to selfish.

My grandad passed away on Wednesday evening.

How long will this last? I feel so unproductive at home. I was supposed to be on a 6-week placement after Easter and I wonder how many people have had to cancel plans, how many more people will die. I wonder if he even remembers his days at nursery, how his face lit up at the dinosaur toy she gave him. His first complex word – dinosaur. I hope I will be able to take him to Crystal Palace Park to see them for real. Invite my cousin who live-streams her music from her home. My mum says we should start again next year and I laugh, uneasy. I think of yellow daffodils and the beauty of Spring. I think of my childhood friend who is planning to be married this year. I think of my grandparents reunited in heaven.

[geminiswords]

How many times can you write about love

How many times can you write about love His searching eyes expect too much from me He was amazed the seats were in rows of three My phone was dead, and he was lost  I loved him immediately

How many times can you write about love The most beautiful smile I’d ever seen We kissed in the forest and drowned in a sea Boiling hot cookies melted in the sun And we melted into one

How many times can you write about love I thought we’d break up that day Crying alone, together, I stole you away My world fell from under me But I’m glad you stayed How many times can you write about love I gave birth to golden hair Just like him, something beautiful and rare We didn’t know what we were getting into But I can face anything with you How many times can you write about love I want you to be happy but I know  You’re worried about the future and feeling low Let’s sit and watch our baby grow And you can marry me tomorrow

- keep writing until you’ve found the one

[geminiswords]

My father said

My father said Self-loathing is all part of being creative Misery is more interesting An artist said Happiness is an extremely uneventful subject At least we had it for a moment

My father is an artist too A split personality And a double-crosser Half the time Or more than half The silent part of a song A dark figure under the water Hardly visible Just a silhouette Barely there The silent treatment you barely remember A man you barely recognise in the corner of a room Waiting for something And probably drunk

His other half The slow progression of a song You can’t help but sing along to Creeps up on you Like the surprise of the tide coming in Up to your neck, almost swallowed by the sea His mother said He’s a closed book, misunderstood Projects his feelings inwards and never lets anyone in But I’ve seen him shout I’ve seen him swear And I’ve seen him cry Beat himself up And drag the closest stranger with him Among these halves The stronger whole reveals itself The man in the corner has always cared about you It took some time My brother expressed A wish not to be like our father A dream for a closer connection Another contradiction I saw them in Soho last Sunday Almost arm in arm Almost twins Definitely friends My sister too Either all or nothing

A familiar chord A friendly face His fatherly squeeze Too intense sometimes He can be frightening But you find yourself belting out the words with him Absorbing his knowledge, appreciating his talent Willing yourself to understand why Then let-down again I wasn’t planning on writing about my father Like I wasn’t planning to forgive him either He seems happy these days After all, he’s still your father As if you could forget

[geminiswords]

Writing always makes me sad

It’s almost June and I love you. I crochet matted hair into a soft turquoise cardigan with white cuffs. I can already tell it will be too big for you but I know you’ll look adorable. I’ve lined the front with star-shaped buttons and added an accidental sprinkle of dog fluff. Restart the row. If only I could frog all of my mistakes in the same, neat way but I refuse to go back. I stitch my body back together as you tear me apart. No one else understands our symbiotic lifestyle but we don’t need their validation to survive.

Writing always makes me sad because it has the ability to heal and break you. How can I explain? New beginnings force me to take another look at the past, as if it somehow changed whilst I wasn’t looking. A wave of familiar sadness, not as strong as before. I tap into latent emotions when writing. In return, a strangely addictive reminder of who I used to be. Synchronised pleasure and pain and countless unfinished conversations. It’s funny, you’ll never see that side of me. I will be different, better.

So I re-watch the same films over and over. Suck on a few bumpy gherkins and ramble on a bit. Anything to entertain my idle mind and distract me from worry. Drink a salty ocean of water, sleep too much - not enough - I almost faint. A quick google search: Why am I crying for no reason? Multiple answers. You can rely on me.

I feel bigger today. Everything tastes different now and I can’t wait any longer. A swollen belly filled with you. Swimming slowly, growing. Soft butter melts quickly on my skin. Kicking softly, perfect. Wondering if you’ll look like him.

[geminiswords]

Making sense

Happiness swelling like the bellies of friends, they move out Without you Accepting you’ll probably never see them again You were a dick but they didn’t understand You were ill Did illness take my love away? The most painful thing you can imagine I will never get to meet you A recent punishment Opens an old wound It wasn’t your fault They won’t support you publicly But they’ll send a pretty letter You are so quiet now Hidden behind unbrushed hair Be modest and cover your skin This isn’t you They don’t know my mind is loud Always thinking Negative status updates must be about you Who else? You wronged them but they wronged you first So it’s fair The never-ending loop of hypocrisy They’re building an army Or stewing silently in hate Do you have anything nice to say? Spilling your entire heart but worrying You’ve hurt someone Again They didn’t understand Again You are so tired Of being patronised Forgive yourself and heal quickly You carry sorrow from long ago Promising yourself you’d only mourn once But you cried yesterday Hold the grudge, embrace the pain Wear it forever Not forever Am I lucky? I get to sleep next to him every night The best smile I’ve ever seen There is some life inside of me I give myself a clearer voice Another chance I am in love And I deserve this I will be understood

[geminiswords]

“Fairytales”

These stories are fruitful indeed, feared and valued by their mysterious elements and debatable origins. They are entertaining but are believed to carry little weight besides, giving temporary satisfaction as semi-adequate explanations for the unknown. Truth seekers willingly betray their own nature for a chance to help and understand; perhaps a small price to pay for that precious slice of certainty. Others have less noble motives as they are ultimately led astray due to carelessly underprepared walks through the grove. It is soon realised that the beloved tales of the wilds they grew up with carry an unexpected element of truth - one bite is all it takes - and so the curse spreads. It is certainly tempting to abuse the power of storytelling to make a name or oneself and nowadays, werewolf stories are disgustingly glamorised. However, I do not ask for sympathy, I am partly to blame for this ongoing embellishment. Generally, a hero ‘against all odds’ will manage to kill a wolf who has been pestering a town. Fairytales will cleverly blur the lines between fantasy and reality; a wolf could easily overpower a woodcutter, with or without his trusty axe. It was probably unwise to have allowed these tales to become near enough legendary, although wolves cannot take the blame for the relentless curiosity of mortals. They are often wrongly lead to believe that the were-folk live their lives free of rules and constraints. They seek us out.

In the villages, werewolf stories are read to children at bedtime as parents mould the stories to their own will, painting a deliberate picture that will teach a specific life lesson; eat your greens, respect your elders, don’t pick your nose or else the wolves will have you. This cunning strategy works for maintaining good behaviour among the children, but numerous ignorant listeners become affected with delusions of heroism, as if they will single-handedly cure the disease that has tormented man for years. These beast-sympathisers generally mean well, yet most are hardly able to connect to the human inside. Brothers, sisters, friends become an easy meal. Once upon a time these peaceful creatures were cautious and rarely disturbed mankind but have since been dominated by the more recent, more unnatural man-creatures. This is unfortunate, as now we have corrupted the native wolves. Now we are indistinguishable from them. No one can truly claim to know how the infamous wolf-curse progressed to such an unmanageable state. Witches and wizards are accused first and rightly so; they are the beings cruel enough to prey on the townsfolk who have little to give. It only takes one disrespected contract for a magician to unleash a dark force - any excuse to put the black arts into practice. It is more difficult to suspect one particular grandmother, who prefers her own company. The curse began with her.

- an extract on fairytales from my creative writing project at school

[geminiswords]

Mr Q

First of all I am sorry I have not made any attempt to conceal your name. Everyone knows who you are. Your ‘gifted and talented’ scheme pisses me off. I don’t know if you still do the thing. I seriously don’t want to be trouble but hear me out and take it with a pinch of salt. I have anxiety about everything.

A few of the ‘promising’ ugly ducklings of year 7 were picked to join a group that somebody created. The blame always gets passed on doesn’t it? Seems like a good idea at the time and we all fall for it! Hooray!

Some people bloom into the swans you wanted to create. Man-made conformists to your manipulation. My friends in my tutor group half-resented me. Why should some people be labelled ‘gifted and talented’ and others aren’t? My friends are my friends because they are fun and they have talents you will never understand. My boyfriend is cool because he plays guitar but my dad gets him all his gigs. I love him still but that isn’t the point. Not in the romantic way anymore, but he is a lot stronger than I will ever be. He fell for your scheme and we all skipped core subjects because we felt we were ‘too good’ for our lessons. We discussed disney trips away but they never came to be, did they? I think you’ve been taking too many lessons from Mr P. He wanted us to wear suits but our year group knew the truth. Individuality doesn’t mean chaos. And now you’re putting the people who possibly could deviate from the norm into a box. I’m sure you don’t want to be a dick-potato. DICTATOR. Words are too flowery sometimes.

Oh haha that’s funny it’s like ‘g and t’ we all cried out in unison. We felt smart for getting the reference even though none of us bloody drank gin and tonic. I still think it’s a pretentious drink that people pretend to like just to feel like they aren’t alone. It eases our middle-class guilt. But I digress.

Remove the anger from this now. I was a 14 year old girl and my maths teacher constantly told me I had potential. I don’t like to talk about him because he disappointed me just like he told me I always disappointed him. People like having opinions on things they don’t understand. Put yourself in their shoes.

I didn’t care about the year 9 SATs. I definitely do not have any delusions of grandeur but with my literary mind I couldn’t help but feel it was a premonition that our year was the last year to ever take the stupid tests. Thank you God if there is one.

When I was bathing in ‘gin and tonic’ and completely blinded because of my youth and will to see the goodness in people, you didn’t know that my other friends stopped talking to me. They treated me differently. I was fifteen years old and upset. A new guy came to school and of course everyone is interested in the new guy. It was overwhelming for him because he came from a boarding school where he caused chaos into a realm where we were interested in WHY the chaos was created. Oh he’s amazing. So intelligent. I already had a boyfriend but needed to know who he really was behind the mask his parents and teachers had carefully moulded for him. We were together a week give or take. Call me heartless but I know who I love. I loved him in a way but my boyfriend was my rock and voice of reason.

I was a weirdo I’m not gonna lie. You need to be fake to fit people’s expectations. I am also deathly scared of change like you. Manipulating people makes you feel clever but really you do more damage than good. I mean that in the best way.

Needless to say, you took me out of ‘g and t’ because you knew I couldn’t fit the bill you wanted. My crazy alcoholic gin was detached from my calm tonic water and I turn into an enigma when that happens. I don’t like it myself but you have to admit it was fun arguing in the year base. I know you know the truth really. You were a good head of year and you kept our yearbase clean from rubbish. Literally and figuratively.

I’m on a roll here because I find this bit so funny. You asked me back in! Hell no. My friends are finally happy and my best friend is with her first love. It just took her longer than me to figure out he was messed up. He left school; did you know? Do any of you care where he is? That girl disappeared too. And her. Some of you are too caught up in your emotions. Gemini you’re hurting me. Some of them are too proud. I won’t talk to you for an entire year, let Gemini look after you. Wtf human race??? Some political anarchist. Interesting but not practical; you circle jerk together in your staff room, class room or whatever you want to label it. I love my friends because they bring me back down to earth. I don’t want to bask in the glory of my intuition and HUMAN common sense. I won’t take that gin and tonic with extra cucumber and lime and salt and... You can tell I was a strange bartender.

It must be a Gemini thing. Or I’m mentally ill. Or I’m just angry. I want to know what life is. We’re curious about why things work and that’s why you don’t like us. Hashtag student life.

- an old self

[geminiswords]

Call girl

You are pushing us away. I used to be like her before the world hardened me. Excuse me, your friend is giving me the eye. She gives everyone the eye. You were so funny that night. Do I need more tattoos and piercings to appear threatening? All my thoughts and dreams have been written down. I’ve never been in a music video before. This dress would look better on you. She is tough, no wonder you look up to her. I absolutely adore you. Who’s your favourite? I won’t tell. We were wrong to idolise a person so much. She is slower than you. Happily hopeless. You need to stop convincing yourself you’re a bad person. We don’t like quitters. It’s a man’s world. I would probably do anything she asked.

Sorry darling, she’s gone home already. Are you alright?

[geminiswords]

Lost boys

Star-crossed lovers cliff-hop the Mediterranean sea Another lost boy found Her curled drunken fist a pale star Laid out and adorned with stringy eye-bracelets Pretty, pretty pebbled pathways lead you somewhere... One more freckle to add to the shoulder-collection Sweet caramel milkshakes kiss two sweet rabbits Running round their rabbit-run The colours are blue and white The boys are lost together The sun pierces, presses-perfect into your skin Souvlaki selfies in the mirror Reflections of your childhood self A better self, your better half Ice-cold swigs of ‘aphrodisiac’ and ‘sex with the ex’

Wine is bottled poetry and I’m feeling more like me #EatSwimRaveRepeat Our dancing queen followed home in the dark star-sky Our singlet mission for you Should we make ourselves a 3?

One-hundred Grecian goddesses cling to a boat (I always exaggerate slightly) Take a depressing swim for fun The number-one hangover cure The lost boys find Atlantis There’s seven or eight stanzas We met at 7 or 8 on a rum-filled pirate ship Crazy Brits pose for polaroid pictures Clowns on stilts talk in symbols, live in windmills Dissociating again, your dolly jelly-shoe daydream... Caramel complexions and milk-maid braids Her heart-shaped sunglasses make annoying appearance Deep-sea thinking, linking hostel friends Fresh flesh forbidden-fruit, we ferry-hop the islands  Lost boys lost in their books

Cats climb flowered walls, they follow you too Too many to count but you want to take it all back-pack Insomniacs have star-sign conversations (This subject always comes up somewhere) Bottled sand and a birthday-card for the boys back home

[apoeticmythos]

the girl is a contradiction, a fighter, a mask-maker. she is changeling, not a demon, her deception is playful and freeing. she is an intellect, a beauty, a whirlpool. she is fast-paced, not rushed, her eyes are spring green with tamed monstrosity. the girl is a sharp-tongued lover, a cool entertainer, contrasting and severe, as a negative space painting. her distinction is not to be confused, with separation, she is the masks of theater, keepers of comedic and tragic melding.

gemini queen; l.m. (via apoeticmythos)