Tattoo Me Beautiful

I let a stranger paint my heart
with swallows and roses.
He threaded the needle so delicately,
but his gentle touch
could not stop my crimson blood's flow.
It oozed out of the new wounds
tainting the shades of blue and green
in the wings of the bird,
outstretched and free.

I made my heart beautiful again,
like was once upon a time.
It's not quite fixed,
and I don't think it ever will be.
But the cracks and battle wounds
are gone now.
I don't wear my sorrow so sadly anymore,
I hid those memories with images
that let me forget.

At least
on the outside
I don't look
so
b r o k e n. 

-2010

Wings of a Butterfly

Love is so brief.
Only a slice of time that comes and goes with the flutter of a butterfly. Then you've tasted it. The sweet taste that melted on your tongue once that is now only to be replaced with bitterness, jealousy, insecurity.
You end up crushing the wings of a butterfly in the palm of your sweaty and desperate fist. You held on too tight, wanting that moment to be eternal.
It becomes a cry in an empty alley that makes you long for that moment again, that binding kiss and those whispered words of 'I love you'.

Doll

You become vulnerable and porcelain, and they hold you between their fingers. And my God you are hoping they are holding you tight; because at any moment you might fall and smash into a million little pieces. They might slip up for a second, or maybe they cast you away without a single care. Either way, you end up hurting.
You find your alone; putting yourself together and giving them the benefit of the doubt. You pretend that they lost their grip for a moment. That they didn’t mean to break you. It was just a senseless mistake.
Although; once they let you fall it’s never quite the same. The cracks are constant reminders of the pain that they put you through and probably will continue to.
But you still make excuses for them because all you ever wanted was somebody to hold your hand.

You want to be the first one to walk away; but you just don’t know when to turn your back.

Sarah & Michael

Your hair’s shorter /  It, it suits you. / Oh I don’t really...I tagged along with Beth, she knows him / I didn’t expect you to be here... /

Do you remember the honeysuckle tree we carved our names in; Sarah and Michael forever? I scratched it out for you. I changed it to Sarah loves Michael forever.  / Yeah, I know... / I just didn’t think you would fall out of love with me. /

I’m okay. / At least that’s what I tell everyone. I must of said it 43 times today, well 44 now. / I can't lie to you though, I never could. Your my weakness... / I'm never okay anymore.

You gave me an Orchid on our first date and said it meant rare beauty, and it reminded you of me. / I would of given you an Oleander, you know. Because you’re poisonous, and your killing me.

Look, I'm sorry...just...Why her? I thought we were special, I thought it was you and me. Now it’s you and her. How can you tell me that when your with her?  Huh? I can’t talk to anyone, I can’t ever talk to anyone. I want to talk to you though, I want to tell you all my stories from when I went to Africa and played with baby lion cubs, and I want to tell you that I got an A in maths. I want to ask you how you are, and if you won your soccer finals. It’s been too long...

You better get back to her. / I’m okay, aren’t I? I can still smile.

2010 Monologue

Englantine

Under past lovers carvings,
I scratch a poem for the lonely:

'Lovebirds kiss in a honeysuckle tree,
But my wings are broken,
I'm left stranded in the branches
Of a white oleander.'

 -2010 

Stranger To Love

Is it a silver locket that I will wear around my neck,
Or writing his name on a piece of paper next to mine?
Will I get butterflies at the sound of his name,
And will it feel something like magic?


They say when your in love you know.
But no, I don't.
He is a stranger to me.

-2010

seasons.

autumn.

the leaves fell and crumbled beneath our toes like crisps and paper planes.
and you kissed me.

i pretended i couldn't see you from my bedroom window, but i really could.


winter.

the winter air was beautiful.
i made snow angels naked and felt my skin turn blue.

you wore a green beanie and black gloves.
i didn't like those gloves because it meant i couldn't hold your hand and feel your warmth.

we sold our innocence to one and other.


spring.

the birds sang oprah outside my window,
they sat on the tree you would climb to sneak into my room.

the roses blossomed and glowed of youth.
i picked every petal off the prettiest one.
"he loves me, he loves me not..."


summer.

the sun kissed your nose with freckles.
i counted them while you slept. 19.
odd numbers were bad luck.

autumn.

sold.

we made love under the full moon the night before you left.
i waved goodbye.

two old people moved in next door and they smiled and held hands sometimes. 

-2010

My friend Jarrod Van Der Veen made this for me, as he loved that quote from my short story Heart of Glass.

I love it!

numbers

the clock hand points like a judge,
and a deep breathe of ocean air fills my torso.
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12
the lonely old man in the tower,
and his rusted golden bell.
it rings like a child's smile.

a dog spoke words from a human mouth,
today the world is a shade of purple.
i painted the moon like the sun
stole the stars,
and put them under my pillow.
i dreamt of pixies and crowns and dust.

clouds of bubblegum shaped like madmen,
glued the roof of the white hallway.
they shouted profanities and barked,
woof.
mum always did say keep your feet on the ground,
your head is for the sky.

questions come in numbers,
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12
truth comes in none,
but the sound of rainfall is real.
a pen and paper wrote the big man,
scribbled tales of laughter and ballet. 

2010

A Ballad Made For Wolves

They walked like canines
Under the moonlight
Their sharp teeth shimmer
As they howl for winter

Preying for prayers
Tasting sweet innocence
Hunting for a victim
I'll be your victim 

2010 Lyrical Poetry

Hill 60

Sarah Haynes Photography

Little Lion Man

They didn't let me wear my lion suit and I always wear my lion suit. How would I run off into the jungle? A little boy can't but a lion can; a lion can do so much more then I could. He can fight and roar and run wild, he can take care of himself. If someone big and mean was going to hurt me all I would do is cry, but the lion would attack the scary person and bite them. He wasn't scared of anyone.
My new Mum said that my suit was silly, and dirty and stained as she undressed me, stealing my lion suit and seeing the week-old bruises that were hidden underneath. She told me a boy my age needs to grow up, that dress-ups are for toddlers and not 8 year old boys. She accidently put it in the red bin out the front, I saw her do it through my new bedroom window. I can see the whole street through this window, I see mothers walk past with prams and old people walking their big brown dogs. I saw two teenagers holding hands yesterday. And I saw my new next door neighbour fall off his bike. I can also see the red bin, where my lion suit was hiding.
My new Mum's name was Angela and she made spaghetti for dinner, it smelt really good and I was really hungry. As soon as she put it on the table I started eating, sucking the long strands of pasta into my mouth.
"Jacob!" I looked at Angela and swallowed my giant mouthful. "Have you not been taught manners? Hm?"
I wasn't too sure whether to answer her, and if I've learnt anything from my old parents it's that it's better when you don't talk. I don't like to talk. To anyone; teachers, parents, kids. If you don't talk you can't get in trouble. So I've zipped my mouth shut and locked it with a key that I hid in the back of my mind.
"Are you going to answer me?" I just looked at her, she looked like Dave but she was a girl. They both got the same creases in between their eyebrows when they got angry. "Put your fork down, and as a family we will say grace. And after grace, you will eat with both your knife and fork and close your mouth when you chew. Understand me?"
I nodded, even though I didn't. I didn't know what grace was or when it was going to be over, so I just looked at the now messy plate of spaghetti in front of me.
The whole family put their hands together and closed their eyes. Angela spoke about bread and her father, and thanked her dad for blessing the whole family and then she said my name. She thanked her father for saving me and giving me a new and safe home with a loving family. I didn't understand who she was talking to and why she was saying those things. Everybody then said Amen, even the older girl and the other little boy. They opened there eyes and they began to eat. I followed the leader.
It was after our meal and everybody left the table, I went back to my new room and just stared out the window. This house was so boring; it was so clean and quiet and Angela made so many rules. I didn't like having a bed time and I didn't like wearing clean clothes. The only rules I knew of back at my old home was to keep your mouth shut. And if you broke that rule then that's why you were punished. I never broke the promise, and I never told a soul.
Back at my old home I could do what I wanted; Mum was always drinking bottles of wine and didn't care where I was. She used to fight with her boyfriend Dave a lot; he kicked her until she bled some nights. He kicked me too, but I only ever bruised under my clothes so I could hide it and pretend he never did any of that. That was the rule; to pretend.
I also had to pretend I never saw him make my older sister take her clothes off, which was another rule of his games. He used to make her scream; I used to cover my ears when I could hear her and dream of the jungle. I could hear her now as I looked out the window, and it made me sad. I didn't want to be here.
When the house was silent and my new family was sound asleep, I crept like a mouse out the back door and over the white picket fence. I opened the red bin's lid to find my favourite lion suit which would set me free. The little mouse that had been so sneaky became a big fierce lion, and this lion was the bravest lion to ever live. He roared at the moon and ran away into the dark.

-2010.
Inspired by the photo Little Sad Lion Boy by eva44 on deviantart. 

Heart of Glass

Silence. The room is poisoned with the sound. It's uncomfortable and dangerous. It's like broken glass; if you're not careful you can cut yourself. If I try to speak I'll end up whispering, and I can't say a word only whimpers and sighs. My voice is empty, like the walls. I wonder if he heard my heart stop, or maybe if he heard it break.
"You promised you would never make me cry," I murmur. A tear streams into my mouth, and I can taste the sweetness of it; it was salty. Funny that pain tastes like the ocean; maybe it's our bodies' way to let the world know we're drowning. "You promised me..."
"Baby, I know-"he hummed with his husky voice.
"Don't call me baby," I sobbed. "I'm not your baby anymore."
"Okay." He said, slowly.
And the bitter silence returned while we were both slumped metres away from one and other; motionless. I wanted him to start laughing and to tell me this was a joke; to take my bony body against his and to push my hair behind my ears. But he didn't kiss away my tears. He just sat there staring at the door, in his own fixated trance.
"Do you want me?" I begged. "I want you. I want you! Please!" I crawled towards him, and forced myself into his arms and on his lap. I was grabbing his hair; running my hands through his long brown hair and kissing his neck. He sat like a stone; a gargoyle, some kind of monster who was not my lover. Or maybe I was the monster? I was biting his neck so desperate for his touch, clutching at his body.  "Please tell me you want me," I panted like an animal. His dark face lifted to mine, and our eyes fell into one and other. His mouth parted slightly. It was tender and forced. I could feel his breath inside of mine, the heat of fire; the fire which was burning out. I could feel my tongue on his lips, tasting him and needing him. He pushes me back. "Make love to me, make love to me like you used to," I screamed while I held on to him, twisting his shirt trying to take it off. I want to feel his skin on mine.
"Chelsea, get off me," he said with not an ounce of emotion in his tone.
"Put your hands on me first," I whimpered seductively into his ear; but there was nothing seductive about a broken angel who's bleeding misery and despair.
"I don't want you. Can you hear me?" His hand ran through my hair at that point, and he dragged my face away from his. I ended up on my knees for him, looking up at him like a dog begging for food. His face was cold, and his jaw line was severe. He began pacing around the room, walking back and forth and back and forth and I just watched him. Tap tap tap tap tap... the room echoed with his footsteps and my cries.
After what seemed like forever he stopped and he stared; he stared right through my glass heart. He stared at me like I was not his girl, I was someone else; a stranger in a dark alley who spoke with no clarification and looked with unnecessary interest. Was I this stranger, a person of the unknown?
"I made love to someone else, someone who was not you," and his words stole the breath right out of my chest. I could feel the ache that came on like a fever. The fever turned my skin to flames; I was shaking and sweating and gasping for air. Oxygen; it became toxic. I couldn't breathe, or think. My head was in my hands and I was melting to the floor.
The door handle squeaked as he turned it. My blood turned black; I punched his back and slammed him into the opening door.
"You were leaving me here!? You asshole, you fucking asshole! What did I do to deserve this? HUH! Tell me, tell me!" I yelped as I bashed his chest with my tightly closed fists, trying to beat up his heart; violence as my only solace squeezing my insides to death. "What did I do!? What did I do to make you cheat? Am I not good enough for you?"
My anger abandoned me, my knees lost blood and couldn't I find the strength to stand. My mouth was dry, and the room spun and blurred and dropped into a whirlpool. I was in his arms choking. I was in his arms breaking like a porcelain doll, becoming used material; a doll tossed into the dusty lost and broken box. I was in the arms of the boy who made me cry.
"Why?" I howled through my congested gasps, my voice shaken and flaccid. I want clarification, I wanted answers. We were perfect; we were Romeo and Juliet. I wasted the past year on a tale of false love. He slept with another. I meant so little to him that he could bestow his soul to a petty love affair. I gave him my innocence and all my love; just to have him smother me in dirt. What did I do to make him want someone else? Nothing could mend this wound he engraved into me.
He kissed my cheek and sighed in my ear. "Because I never loved you, I lied."

- 2010

Wearing Racquel

The reflection in the mirror was just a girl with skin porcelain and fair. Her long dark locks of charcoal hair danced down her white face, winding around her petite frame and resting silently in her lap. She wore a cream dress laced with the most dainty ribbon, the corset forcing her boyish body into an hour glass of femininity. Although her eyes, they were not focused on her divine reflection, no. They were complete with fear as they indulged into what was behind her, nothing; nothing except her new surroundings of a grand bedroom with only the most expensive of furniture and decorations.

Raquel would often lose herself for hours in the mirror, just waiting to catch the reflection of her other half, her identical twin sister. She never did, people could not see the dead. She could feel her though, in this very room her presence was taking prey. Sometimes Raquel thought she could feel the heat of her eyes cursing her every move and her every heartbeat, or sometimes like this very moment captured in the mirror, she could feel her touch, her breath faintly lingering on the surface of her neck.

Raquel imagined that if she could see her sister that she would look like one of Dracula’s mistresses, crouching over her body, smelling the blood in her veins preparing herself for her next meal. The thought made Raquel hold her breath, close her eyes and be in suspense for her pending death.

When Raquel finally opened her eyes, her heart froze at the sight of another crouched over her. The imposter dived towards her neck, there jaw opening slightly and the warmth of their mouth caressing her neck.

“You frightened me, Joe!” laughed Raquel, lolling her head back revealing more of her bear neck. Joseph’s deep brown eyes met her icy blue eyes in the mirror, and for that moment, without words, they spoke with their hearts. One did not need to hear Joseph speak to know how he adored his new bride, and was madly in love with her. As for Raquel, it was blatantly obvious she was obsessive about him, it was possible it was even a slightly ill kind of love that she obtained.
“I’m sorry, my darling. I won’t startle you again while you prepare for supper. I was just curious about the long time you have hidden yourself up here,” he spoke with his husky charming voice. “Will you be much longer, my love?”
“Oh! I forgot time my dear, terribly sorry. Forgive me for I just got lost in thought,” Raquel pleaded to her new husband of only a few weeks.
“Don’t be sorry. What ever is it you are thinking?” he asked, and for a second Raquel’s face revealed her darkest secrets.
“Just about you, of course. I am so happy we are finally married, and I cannot express my eagerness for us to start our own family. I was thinking about what we shall be calling our children,” she rolled off the tip of her tongue. “Our first hall be called Chloe, do you agree it is such a pretty name?”
“It is a name fit for a princess,” he assured. “Now come on, I’d expect our supper to have gone right cold by now.”

The following night as Raquel ran the brush through her soft hair, the familiar feeling of being watched filled the pit of her stomach. Again, she imagined her sister; pale and drained of all life just like a vampire, an empty corpse with no heartbeat and cold to the touch. Raquel smiled her perfect smile, a victorious gesture. She laughed in a low tone and became wicked.
“Sister, you cannot hurt me, you are 10 feet underground. Now now, don’t be bitter. I always suited the name Raquel better then Madeline. But it doesn’t matter now, I am a better wife to Joseph than you would have been…if I didn’t kill you.”

Madeline glanced at herself in the mirror, fixed the innocent expression Raquel wore and left the bedroom to accompany her husband to supper.

- 2009

shot of fire

i.
you once told me you don't ever want to dream, you said you wouldn't live to see thirty.
i told you i am a dreamer, and that i'll live forever.

ii.
the next time i saw you, you reached for the stars.
you swore you learnt how to dream.
i knew you were lying through your pin prick eyes,
but i pretended to play your game.

iii.
a shot of heroin gave you the chance to fly,
it gave you freedom, and love, and hope.
it filled your soul with fire.
i could only wait for you to burn out,
and i'd be the one collecting your ashes.

iv.
you never did live to see thirty.

- 2009

beauty's scene.

industrial virus.
the sound to your ears is nothing but a fashion crisis.
nothing but a cool scene.
the beauty is in your bones, not in your eyes.
the beauty is in the fake, the lies and highs.

- 2008

Home.

The wall is like one giant mirror, a dull blue shade with rainbow scattered throughout. But it doesn't show reflection, it's not a mirror to see yourself in; but I could see the music. The CDs hung on the wall side by side delicately, forming one giant masterpiece; it was the first thing my eyes were drawn to and almost overwelmed by.
I can smell lavender, the dark air is foggy with the scent. As the smell of the flower penetrates my nostrils and fills my lungs my eyes wander onto the other 3 walls decorated by the magic of sound.
The Black Keys. Vampire Weekend. Kings Of Leon. The Dandy Warhols. Kurt Cobain. The Vines. Gorillaz. Fleet Foxes. The Beatles. Angus & Julia Stone. The Ramones. Iggy Pop. The White Stripes. Iron And Wine. TV On The Radio. The Drones. Blink 182.
Her room was a shrine made to the love of music.

- 2010.

Rejection.

"Just leave me alone,"
She begged me while her tears ran.
Rejection pierced me.

-2010. Haiku Poetry.

Heart Holding.

He held my hand tight.
Palm to palm. Heart to heart. Love.
I held his hand tight.

-2010. Haiku Poetry.

xoxo

...and i didn't even know his name.
it was wild.
it felt like fire.
later that night i killed him.
i took his money and i bought shoes.

no pants.
no hat.
no socks.
no shirt.
just knickers and my new pumps.

xoxo

- 2010

Spiders

I remember as if it was yesterday, when you held my hand and held my heart. You promised you will never let go, and you swore lies never danced off your tongue.

Your hands were like spiders, crawling around my waist and down my thighs; baby, didn't you know that spiders haunted my dreams? You didn't know much.

You spoke of freedom and love and life, but you made it all up to catch me in your web, to catch me in your lies. You knew nothing of love but you liked to pretend, and the freedom you swore was an excuse for the sea.

The life inside you was not life at all, it was as dead as a corpse and blackened, you whore. But now it's tomorrow and I can stop with these games of pretending to love you, I danced with lies too.

- 2009

summer drum.

you promised to take me dancing,
to that kooky pop tune -
the one with the distorted guitar and stepping melody.

we pretended that we were in the sixties.
we pretended that we were dancing for each other.

i was dancing with time, and you were dancing with lust.
the hands of the clock struck as yours struck all over me.
you felt me and you held me, you kissed me and smothered me.

our young laughter staind in the humid air,
and the summer sun faded over the horizon.
we were only left with the beat of the drum,
and we danced the night away.

you promised to take me dancing,
and for a night
we pretended that we were in the sixties.

- 2009