Category Archives: spy tales

request.

there is the realisation,
that this is your life:
and you’ve spent more than half of it
wishing it was over.

take me now,
the tearful plea each night;

take me now,
the gutless desperation;

take me now,
so i can forget;

take me now,
before the game unravels;

take me now,
let this be the last time.

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implode.

because
it feels like,
my heart
is still breaking
multiple times
in the day.

because
the pain
and grief
continue
to obliterate
my lungs.

because
every step
outside the shell
is opportunity
for panicked
collapse.

because
i have only
two gears:
self-destruction
or
cowering solitude.

because
why sleep
when the hours
are an anxious monotony
of every terrorising fear
and every disappointing flaw.

because
everything hurts
but “so it goes”:
still my heart beats
still my lungs inflate
still my brain implodes.


[divide].

there’s a monster growing in our heads
raised up on the wicked things we’ve said
a great divide between us now
something we should know 

there’s something to remember
and something to forget
as long as we remember
there’s something to regret 

something we should know
there’s a mountain higher than we knew
it’s high but such a bitter view
a great divide between us now 

something we should know
a great divide between us now
on different sides of a great divide

– “the great divide,” the cardigans.


sleepology.

eight hours
of blood
and salt,
pain and
humiliation.

eight hours
searching for
respite and comfort,
love and
approval.

eight hours
of desperation
and terror,
restless drama and
tiresome torture.


[okay]?

what happened?
it’s okay.

where did you go?
it’s okay.

how’s your heart?
it’s okay.

is it dark?
it’s okay.

are you alone?
it’s okay.

when will it stop?
it’s okay.

why not?
it’s okay.

it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.


organ donor.

slice me open,
take my lungs:
they have overcome asthma;
broken the limits of anxiety; and
suffered the deepest grief and pain.
still i breathe.
take my lungs.

slice me open,
take my liver:
it was once clean and pure,
until annihilated in a moment;
but time and time over, proof of natural restoration.
still i heal.
take my liver.

slice me open,
take my heart:
it is cool to touch;
ice-like and made of broken stone;
simultaneously rough and fragile.
still i live.
take my heart.

slice me open,
take my [life].


t h i n k.

clichés are so
for a reason.

better to be lonely alone,
than lonely despite company?

“i think so,” she said.


15.06.03 (xiv).

Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long
No matter what I say or do
I’ll still feel you here ’till the moment I’m gone

You hold me without touch
You keep me without chains
I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love
And not feel your reign

Set me free, leave me be
I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am, and I stand
So tall, just the way I’m supposed to be
But you’re on to me and all over me

Oh, you loved me ’cause I’m fragile
When I thought that I was strong
But you touch me for a little while
And all my fragile strength is gone

Set me free, leave me be
I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am, and I stand
So tall, just the way I’m supposed to be
But you’re on to me and all over me

I live here on my knees as I try to make you see
That you’re everything I think I need here on the ground
But you’re neither friend nor foe though I can’t seem to let you go
The one thing that I still know is that you’re keeping me down
You’re keeping me down, eh ooh
You’re on to me, on to me, and all over

Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long.

~sara bareilles.


past.

he is.
i am.
we were.

your touch
is cold
and forced.

my throat
is dry
and empty.

your heart
is small
and fragile.

my fingertips
are reluctant
and strained.

your brand
of love
isn’t mine.

my lungs
keep aching
for more.

your ribs
are bruised
with effort.

you are.
i am.
we were.


switch.

the lid
is over-flowing
with familiar
self-loathing.

but a different
kind of tremor;
no tears and
just cold, dark eyes.

no heart
can warm me.
i hear your name
and shiver.

memory and
my head aches.
the switch flipped
the wrong way.