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Writing things, sometimes.

[wellwhyevernoteh]

Gwen

Hands that held mine whilst we waited at the stop, To jump on the bus and pop to the shop. Hands that used to type up, write short hand and file, But would always go in her purse when I found the sweet aisle. Hands that would flip through pages of a well used book, To find the right recipe for her Christmas pud to cook. With some brandy for the pudding and one in her hand, They were one of my favourite parts of my nan. Her hands knitted me jumpers and darned up old socks, And hands that helped me look through her magic button box. Hands that looked after and reminded me firmly; To not touch that! It's Burney! Hands that held mine throughout the whole of my life, The hands of a mother, grandmother and wife.

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And now he's mine and our forever is begun, He'll be with me in the rain and hold me in the sun. I can't believe I get to be his lucky wife, What a lovely James I have for the rest of our lovely life.

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I haven't become anything, it's just the way it is, I don't belong to anyone, i'm not mine, or yours or his. I just belong to where I am, and what I tend to be. And what I spend most my time being, is unavoidably Me.

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Breakdown cover

If I have a nervous breakdown will the RAC be round? If my train comes of its track can my sanity be found? Will it ever be alright to be completely not OK? And if I admit it, well, then what is there to say? I know that no ones coping and its all supposed to be tough. But I don't know how much more there is until its all enough.

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I wouldn't say that I can swim, but I definitely can't drown. Even under leagues of busy, this feeling still can sound. That no matter how close to the bone I work, no matter how little I live, All the reward, fine as it is, runs right through the bottom of the sieve. And maybe that just why I fill all my time to completely ignore the fact, That I can never look into the mirror with my self esteem intact. And some times I'm OK with that, the constant self disgust, But every now and then I think my ego could do with a dust Yet every time I try to drown the heavier I am, The quicker my sad sick self manages a dam.

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Keeping me up.

I wish I knew what bothered me, what ached from deep within, For what I yearned, or need or have, some secret, deep felt sin.

I wish I knew, what kept me up, so I could throw it out, the secrecy from myself, to uncertain, painful doubt.

I'm not in need, of anything, that I know of, or I don't, and I'm not in want of what I need. Want, my mind won't.

I'm unaware of my own anguish, but yet here she sits, tired, awake and stomach turning, grinding her teeth to bits.

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Things I know

Cats are nice, I like them a lot, that's all I know, the rest I've forgot. Where I'm going, and what for if this is it, or if I want more. it's much easier, to know much less, it's a huge decrease in stress.

I'm sure I had one, aspiration, or maybe I remember a lack of motivation. But either way, cats or not, I'm not chasing a rainbow for an empty pot Mapping out your life takes better penmanship than mine, I'll just amble along with happiness and I'm sure I'll be just fine.

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Such fun <3

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Almost my favourite thing about a person is to be wrong about them.

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What if

Why do my 'what ifs' come out on show, Now that I'm certain now that I know? The definite know draws out the could have been then, Hiding in its memory pen. Ganging up on my dreams and making them sprout, Seeds of confusion and buds of doubt. Now that I'm certain where I want this to go, Those failed journeys are willing me to not know. And why should the sting if something that didn't work remain, Rattling around in my sleep deprived brain.

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Dizzy Dinosaurs

It must be hard to find, That sanity, that piece if mind. The world; spinning without a thought of you, Of who you are or what you do. It doesn't stop when she's left, It doesn't slow now you're bereft. It's a game of catch through it all, If you don't keep going you've dropped the ball. But it's not keeping up, that should keep us busy, It's giving up and enjoy being dizzy. Because you can try so hard to work it all out, But the sun shines brighter without that shadow of a doubt.

[leaveyouapen-deactivated2014121]

Another numb citizen anaethetized to atrocity by forever exposure, Another perfect being being perfected under the knife of celebrity, Another beautiful animal lungs & fur stained black by industry, Another blunted soul mind mundaned by menial labour, Yet another poet, throwing numb, perfect, beautiful, blunted prose to the wilting world, Praising the invisible she with recycled words, hailing who knows who through the smog of society with his attempts at lucidity. Written By deathandlightningbolts

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[wellwhyevernoteh]

My brother :)

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Beautifully Disgusting

We're all a bit disgusting when you open us on up, Regardless of how empty or full up our cup. And we're completely gross when you look right down inside, Never minding all the make up, or the gluttony or pride. And there's nothing we can do to be any differently made, No surgeon godly enough, however well they're paid. So get stuck in to life, as disgusting as you are, And just remember darling, you're more beautiful by far.

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Lost

But we’re all a little lost, trying hard not to be found, Terrified of moving or making any sound. The minute that they find us, hiding in our youth, They’ll pick us up send us out, believe me I’ve got proof. I’ve got a lot of living to do, I’ve got a lot of life, So anchor off, cut the rope, sailor lend me your knife. Your ship can’t sail with out you on it, don’t be so afraid, Don’t take a compass on your journey, and try and stay mislaid.

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Frost

I can't think of anything wonderful to think or say, And, to be honest, it normally works out that way. That my feelings seem to swell and burst their banks, And I'll still be grasping and pulling back blanks. It's hard to say properly, with hindsight in mind, And much harder to feel, is what I find. That what I'm doing now, might not be right, and that the best part of most days is going to bed at night. I love it here, were I am, what I've got, I know what I am and I know what I'm not. I'm a big bit of a mess, but I am not depressed, I'm just a little bit weary and a little bit stressed. And I like to look back to when I was carefree, And think of someone who said they loved me. And that's alright to do, when you're feeling a little lost. To warm up your memory and melt away the frost.

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Pretty sure you've always wanted to see me naked.. Well.. I'm feeling pretty adventurous today so go to datelink3(dot)com (switch [dot] with .) then sign up and find my profile under the username 'lolsummer69'. I hid my face in the pictures. but I want you to guess who I am and then hit me up on Facebook lol. Good luck.

Oh Will Smith, You can read me like a book. <3

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I was confident once, of what, I forget. Of music, or sport, or myself I bet. And now I stand, a shell of me, And nothing of merit, or confidence I see. I’m tired, and grouchy, and grouchy and tired, I’m short on luck and uninspired Living has absorbed my time and though I truly tried, But I, like Peter, failed to keep my shadow at my side. And now my shadow is myself, the only one I see. The grotesque, annoying, spotty thing I hate to admit is me. With lengthening hair, and anything on, off out I go. And who I am, anymore, I guess I’ll never know.