see her in the mirror, every now and then / or when i’m on my way to school, putting in my headphones and shutting out the world / but for a moment, i can see her brunette curls and her big sweaters / her soft, round cheeks / she sings to herself as she gloats over me / about the person i could have been, if i were braver, stronger, greater / made of iron and steel, and sheer force of will / her hair is messy, her t-shirt worn, and i don’t miss her a bit, i swear / but she doesn’t care / glaring from the car behind me at the light / she’s shouting make the fucking turn ’cause i’ve got places to be tonight / i see her at the bus stop from the corner of my eye, scrolling through her phone / she’s here and then she’s gone and then i am left alone / to fester and brood and find another hole in my favourite pair of shoes / but i’ll wear them til they’re rubber and thread / i will wake up and cry and do it all again / because i see her in the graveyard, but she’s not really dead / she’s running circles ‘round my heart / she’s wailing in my closet / writing stories in the pockets of my jeans / planting daffodil bulbs in the garden / drawing hearts on my cheeks

she never left. not really.

What is growing up if not being haunted by a thousand different versions of yourself, amirite?


sometimes i wish that people were like equations 

rules to follow, a kind of twisted logic

wish they would hold still for the portrait

while i memorize the planes of their faces

while i read up on philosophy and try my best to make it

but we all die in the end

we all crap out like cheap computers

personify our feelings

stare dead-eyed into the compact mirror

sometimes i wish you could be clearer

just tell me what i need to do 

just tell me where i’m going wrong

just tell me how i to fix you and i’ll have it done

in a heartbeat

so stop and break it down

tell me when it was you ran straight off the road

tell me when the words lost meaning

tell me when did you lose hope

and let me splint your fractured knee

let me make it better

for one fucking second, please

sometimes i wish that i wasn’t like this

half watercolour-dripping, half machine

sometimes i wish my eyes saw clearly 

and i love you didn’t tumble out of my mouth like a mistake

i wish it didn’t feel like giving something away

i wish the rain would roll off my back

i wish i took my showers cold

i wish my throat didn’t itch

but here i am, getting old


i am walking through a skeleton of poetry

that once meant the world to me

but the words are smushed on salt-stained cheeks

the words whisper through my heart

oh my god, i can’t breathe

i am walking through a skeleton

i am watching you leave

for new heights and new things

half-finished promises

you might not ever keep

i am tripping over femurs and tibia too

i don’t know what creatures used to walk this place

but i hope they left too

i hope their dreams cannot be shared within the space of my hands

i hope their days are full

i hope they get that promotion

i hope they keep the door closed

i hope they let me down gently, and i won’t let them know

that i’m sobbing on the floor

such a mess i can’t drive home

i am walking through the ashes of a world i used to know

the motivational posters and the self-help books

all the things i used to believe in, right down to my soul

it’s dull, and barren on my tongue

it’s all so fucking cold

but i’ll be fine, i’ll be fine

i’ll figure it out between 9-3:30, wednesdays

i’ll pay the long distance

holding my phone like a vice

i’ll play the music loud and take up journalling

i will talk while you still listen

i will try my best not to waste your time

when i kiss you goodnight

i’m walking through a skeleton of things that could have been

feel them well up in my chest and pool on my tongue

taste the salt breeze

i want to fold up my opinions like laundry on the bed

i want to sleep for the rest of eternity

A bit of a vent poem. Growing up is rough, sometimes. This isn’t about any one specific thing, so much as the general chaos that has been my life. I’m not really great at people to be honest, and I’m even worse at goodbyes.


i’m bleeding out, slowly

in papercuts and bruises, crumpled tissues on the floor, because

the kindest people i know are always the most broken

the most furious and sharp, they’re sour to the touch

i’m bleeding out slowly from muttered remarks and unfortunate conclusions

the weekdays slipping out like cards between my 

trembling fingertips, change the story 

change the narrative, that old ache inside my gut

keep it just the same as it ever fucking was

and dig the groove deeper into my skin

cause i’m so scared to mess this up, and i’m even more scared

to win

scared of what it’ll do to me when i’ve got nothing left

to thoughtlessly pursue

when there’s not an easy button to press

a pillowcase calling my name

it whispers more more more

so i’m flipping the pages and i’m biting my lips ‘ til they ache

staying up late trying to capture the planes of your face

drawing clear lines and divisions

splitting the world up like the pieces in a pie

i never get it right, no matter how hard i try

rip up the canvas, snap the frame

i’m erring just on the side

of perfection, so fucking terrified 

i’ll grow up and be just like you

i’ll be that person, i’ll let down little kids

i’ll make them beleive in fury and damnation

i’ll bite my tongue and think about you

about how hellfire touched your cheeks and something in you chose

to be good and kind

to try, try, try, even when blood drips off your lips

it’s the bravest thing a person can do

and when i lose faith in everyone

i still believe in you

sweet 16

This is actually a song, I’m gonna record this later on guitar I think–but for now, here’s the lyrics.

i’m driving down the freeway at 9:30 sharp

slept in past both my alarms, forgot to wash my face

but i’ll brush my teeth when i’m in the shower

if that’s what it takes

wishful truths, no law for youth

i feel like some cliché

i’m swallowing back another panic attack

and i’m never coming back to this place

i’m scraping knees on gravel 

treating bee-stings with honey

i’m crying over spilled milk

i’m crying over tea

i’m hungry and i’m sore 

and i just wanted to eat

but sure i’ll take the money

so i can buy myself some big kid shoes

and fuck them up real bad

so i can try to stay awake

try to keep my tenses straight

nous devons partir bientôt

mais je suis desolee 

been pulling back into my chest and 

sleeping in a ribcage 

listening to my heart beat strong and steady

and i’ll walk across the stage

but i never finished ninth grade

but i never earn it, never feel it

nestle up inside my DNA

i’ll be good

you’ll call me brilliant

and i’ll swoon just like the 

winter trees as february sun shines 

through their leaves

i’ll try not to worry

sweet fucking 16

tie up the monsters in the closet 

read some history 

i burned my feelings in the microwave

and damn it tastes like victory