Would you rather have mouths instead of hands or a hand instead of a face? Lots of Love Aisling....I mean, Anonymous.

If I had mouths instead of hands, what would my face look like?
Would I have mouths? That would be pretty awesome, I reckon I'll go with that. Yumm.
Good question Aisli- sorry, Anon ;)
xx

Ask me bonkers stuff. Whatever you likes.

No new poems on the site. Hurry up, am waiting! Not a question but what the fuck!

I'M really sorry, I've just felt kind of stunted at them moment. The black cloud of depression has really hit. If I don't die I'll try and write you something.

Ask me bonkers stuff. Whatever you likes.

formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/arcadianlady

Love Hates Fear

Love is a demon possession of the soul.

It flails, twisting and writhing

While inside I’m screaming and dying.

Love is a chemical imbalance in the brain.

It confuses, unsettled and fizzing

While my insides are bubbling and whizzing.

Love is a mystery to everyone here.

It flutters, glittering, twirling

While inside my senses are swirling.

Hate is an entirely human emotion.

It seizes, furious and gripping

While inside the bile is diving and dipping.

Hate is able to break your world.

It swells, spreading and filling

While inside I’m punching and killing.

Hate finds trouble in peacetime.

It grows, jealous and loud

While inside I swallow and don’t make a sound.

Fear is a psychological burn.

It’s silent, restraining but physically weak

While inside I’m smaller and emotionally meek.

Fear is a medical condition.

It’s present, anaesthetized but grave

While inside I can feel strong and brave.

Feel is both fleeting and final.

It crumbles, all bravery is eaten

While inside I’m bold, I won’t be beaten.

The Edge of Sanity

Sleep through the sun but wake up to the moon

Life cycle full cycle 30 degree wash-

Right foot, left shoe, laces tied inside out

Screaming kisses and hatred hugs.

On the verge, the edge or the cliff

Jumping off the cliff

Dying, diving, swimming, drowning.

Barrel? Barrage? Bucket?

More contradictions than are counted.

Rhyming, whining, scheming.

Myself and others, falling leaning-

Drop?

Burying head- sand or duvet?

Tiny stresses and massive moans.

Bath or shower, get dressed, stay dressed.

Not sexy. No sex. Just love? All love.

Sadness, isolated, thrilled and excitable.

Mixing a life, a cake, a soup.

Veg, flour, eggs and emotion,

Emotional eggs? Fragility ensues

Through life and the universe, as tears

Splash.

Wristbands

For SI awareness:

Hiding cuts with recovery wrist bands,

Covering all flesh from shoulder to knee.
We wonder if this secret can be kept forever,
Living in fear that someone might see

While at the same time crying out,
Wanting love and support through the pain.
But no one would believe us, or no one would care
So we cut and we hide- all over again.

When you see somebody in the August sun,
Long sleeves and jeans covering skin-
Spare a just a moment to remember:
We are more than our scarres, we are what's within.

Unscrambled love

For Danny:

A text, a phone call, a bunch of flowers

You complete me like a piece in a game.

Your love falls like the nicest of showers

Surrounds me, watches me, keeping me sane.

Like the Q square in a game of scrabble

Or a tricky crossword clue, you are a

One off, unique, a bitch to unravel.

But I’d not have it any other way.

Impossibly perfect yet completely

Flawed. You taste, you touch, you sense and you see.

Real life is never so boxed and neatly

Put, as i hope this sonnet will be(come).

That you stuck around and loved me for me

Has a hand in showing, how we just, be.