#write or drown

[taleeagrace]

there's no life left in these words,

these hollow shells that have been dredged from the back of my throat.

the fruit you've picked has rotted itself inside out,

the carcasses droop and wilt as the days pass.

not even the sun in all her grace

can bring back what's been left.

- t.g

[taleeagrace]

sometimes I look back on all the things I have written,

the intricate smears of ink and of passion,

losing myself in the crevices of my brain that hold capture on all the versions of me I thought long lost.

I was here and I felt, deeply and terribly, and it seems I could not bring myself to do anything else,

so, if that is all my potential is to amount to - carelessly strewn words conjured through an insomnia ridden headache, or the broken heart of a child - I suppose that will be enough.

t.g

[taleeagrace]

And we're on the brink; sitting here, waiting for the bus.

But the tradies are playing along to the games on the radio, laughing and grinning.

It's just gone 8; and it's cold, and I can't quite feel my fingers,

But the sun's on its way to shining, and the birds are singing their approval while the plants around them dance.

And suddenly, we're still here to realise there's still people to care,

little flickering embers in the carcass of a flame.

Now we're the ones to laugh and to grin;

we're in good hands and we'll make it through.

And we're halfway to winning,

there's nothing else we can do.

We'll wait out the months,

filling our stomachs with hope till we're floating and blue,

drowning out the despair and its god-awful hue

- t.g