elysium

poetry (and other things i write) // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

Starting now And two seconds in the past; A tick Of slick Sand and hands, Reaching beyond 2002. A vast obscurity, Fractured infinity And seventy years At best Before death, And what will I do? I choose to live without fear Starting now, And two seconds from the future, This is my time. My sand, my hands, My clock, my tock. I’ve been spending the seconds Like a millionaire. I’m better than that.

the rest of your life // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

you want scary  and sweet and blood and treats? take a look in my head, it reeks of mistakes and shaking on the floor; terrified to move or someone to see and make me prove that i’m okay. silence static screaming. if you want a haunted house there’s plenty of doubts and ghosts in the permanent residence of my head. cancelled plans and pushing people away until i stand alone. what kind of horrors will i unleash on you?

happy halloween // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

strangers

we're past the part of the movie

where someone says goodbye.

I'm still grasping at straws,

the pillars that hold my sky.

the chromatic chroma rains down now

it's over, but the silence comes out dry.

the 'nice to meet you' was

drenched in tears I cry.

- about the boy I talked to for two weeks // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

The empty vows hung like flowers in baskets with no soil. I waited for them to bloom and seed and set me free, to release me into love. I didn’t realise they were already dead.

i’ve been reminiscing about someone i no longer know // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

the eye colour of love is: moving on but still placing you on that pedestal of trust, us and love.

i talked to you today and the feelings are still all there // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

villains and victims

The meteor killed the dinosaurs

and it’s happening again,

my friend.

We will watch humanoid 

meteoroids kill the earth,

and then us too.

A prophecy proved

by scientific method,

no need for Mayans.

We’re the villains

and the victims

this time.

- s.h.

[livingasahuman]

the apocalypse is blazing the amazon. we're creating hell.

a haiku for something that scares me // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

gas-station bathroom

Euphoria.

Crammed in a

24/7 bathroom where

  Fluorescent eyes bloom

And lips glimmer with

The ciders that litter

  Our insides,

Still acquiring the taste

Of self-control and letting go. 

  Alcohol. 

The red car waits outside,

Full of devoured and

  Popped cherries.

Generation (se)x

And all the rest,

  Who’s next?

Shamelessness.

Fuck the name that exists:

  ‘whore’.

The symbiotic youth

Divulge the daring truth

  Of freedom and a wisdom tooth

Rising in mouths that won’t quieten.

‘Rioting’, we prefer ‘liberty’. Civility.

  And so we begin the

Long reckless road

To nowhere

  We’ve been

Before.

Euphoria.

[livingasahuman]

falling out of love

I guess one day everyone just gets tired of sleeping in rose-tinted glasses. Their eyes start to hurt, and they forget to put them on and then that’s it. The muted blue creeps into a not-so-evergreen landscape.

- s.h.

[livingasahuman]

gone but not forgotten, is every freckled and flower petal-ed smile that graced my life.                                      and here i am,                                      forgotten but not gone,                                      a feather in the dark                                      of hours gone by.

Dark Hours // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

sticks and stones

there’s a saying that goes: sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. how bold to declare immunity to the harshness of sentences strung with smoke, sharp and stinging. cause words leave scars; they’re emotional wounds, bleeding indefinitely. they’ll heal over like any scab but leave a mark. stained; it’ll never be the same. i have a habit of picking and pulling and pushing at the letter shaped holes in my skin years after they were first inflicted. and maybe it’s because i crave the pain that it aches, but one things for sure: words fucking hurt.

- s.h.

[livingasahuman]

three years old to seventeen and sixteen, growing cold, but still eating candy from down the road. we’re both writers, but the ink I used never talked about you. these growing pains form lines that mark the times we kept secrets untold, and so the distance grows. we hide behind sheets of silence, sharing smiles and unknowns of how to breach the hole we dug. I miss when we were little; just holding dolls, and we only fought over toys instead of how we’ve slowly destroyed our friendship with mental illness. it’s hard to stomach the thought that we might not last another thirteen or fourteen years. but for now I’ll happily eat candy with you from down the road, and start to share some secrets and unfold.

escapril 2019: day six - nostalgia // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

ask me where i feel most at home and i will tell you it’s in the sweet smothering caress of anxiety. her arms wrap around my throat, the most familiar necklace i’ve ever worn. she smiles at me and strokes my hair while whispering words of wisdom in my ear: ‘you’ll never be good enough.’ what a soft set of words and vowels, i’ve learnt to vow to live by them. she’s a strange guardian; filling my head with doubts until it pops like a balloon, then she scolds me for the mess i’ve made. she makes me wear this dress but she tells me i don’t look nice, ‘what will the other girls think? you’ll never be good enough.’ when i try to fall asleep, she sings a lullaby to me: ‘hush now, don’t close your eyes. did you see it? i bet you didn’t. there’s a monster back there, oh but she’s well hidden.’ i’ll look in the mirror but all i’ll see is her, my anxiety, staring back from me. her melodic voice rocks me to sleep and i’ll wake up in her arms in an anxious peace. so ask me where I feel most at home, and some will say it’s in stockholm.

escapril 2019: day four - anxiety // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

incorporate music in the windings of your soul. it'll heal you, i know.

escapril 2019: day three - incorporate music // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

three birds perched on a wire. the first; old, with a weary head the look he gives chokes you with dread. beware his actions, pay no heed to his words but celestial letters was all i heard. the second; he's young and bright feathers askew, rehearsed to take flight. a fine bird - good intentions and all but i was a flight risk, and too tethered to fall. then the third; who looks like golden clouds. in spring i was lost and now i'm found. the sound of soft dandelions and rain, a gentle beak gives ease to my brain.  three aprils set afire dewy drops eclipse desire. refracted light, lampposts at night, and three birds perched on a wire.

escapril 2019: day two - april showers // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

clean white sheets between which my heart beats a rhythmic chaotic pulse. hidden in a rib-cage: thoughts of a skeleton, new and unafraid, grow to no-where. but the needy heart stays in unstable equilibrium, away from the blood and veins of today. a life in two parts: the past, the present, and the fresh start, makes my soul feel old. so i'll lay down and empty and just let go.

escapril 2019: day one - a fresh start // s.h.

[livingasahuman]

sand's slipping down. the ocean floor of an hourglass, i ask how, and why, and who does this benefit if we all lose? our children have no future but a ticking time bomb as a clock, 12 years to make it stop or reduce the damage we'll do. warming seas and mass extinctions are out best outcomes, look at what we've done in the blink of an eye, no time to cry. is this our goodbye?

climate change // s.h.