Tag Archives: fear

manic incompetence.

i don’t remember
the last time.
my fresh energy
– pure and uninhibited –
i’ve forgotten what
it feels like.

instead, luke warm
at best
and otherwise
cold, dark and sticky.

my hands never dry
and yet my nail beds
are rough
and crumbling.

i am so tired
yet full of adrenalin
relentless trembling
plagues my knuckles
like an arthritic matriarch.

the mania comes
but in an anxious
and with reactionary

no patience,
no concentration,
all fear and no memories.

a quivering
ball of pathetic



now i understand
why my wrists
have been aching –
it’s where you
held me
while i struggled.
as you spat
at me,
and i begged you
to go.
as you raged
at my riddled body,
and i begged you
to go.

i know
it’s always my fault;
i know
there’s no point arguing.
i am reduced
to the pathetic doll
once again.
another christmas
and another year

i thought
you knew.
and i thought
i could be loved
by you.
turns out,
it’s all
just the same.
but now i understand
why my wrists
have been aching.

you might
as well
compare notes.


​i’m doing
it all wrong
every moment
is a chance
for betrayal.
every moment
is a chance
to lose.

in my mind
it is not
a chance:
it is certain.
he will leave,
and you
will fall,
every knife pointed
at my own bloody heart. 


and then reality
broke through
her skin
with the fierceness
of a blade;
and waves upon waves
of self-loathing
and the impracticalities,
the burden
of this depressed life.
her head falls
to the caress
of her sweaty,
oily palms.

how to destroy
this feeling?

these days,
her fingers only
stop shaking
when sleep
engulfs her
bleak, diseased body.
she’s seen
the despair before,
but somehow
this entrapment
is different.
she is a fool
faking the light,
before it attacks again.


he followed her
and he wasn’t
so scared;
his feet didn’t
burn up in
mistrust and fear.

she followed him
and she let
his hand go;
her feet grew
old and her
eyes were in pain.

she followed;
he followed.
both and neither;
who led who
down a denied path
or a steady road?


even on a sunny day,
it is probably best
our eyes don’t meet
in the rearview mirror.

even on a cloudy day,
you know my heart
is streaming to you;
an embrace unrelenting.

even on a thunderstruck day,
my breath is deep and aching
and i hope your eyes are bright;
i hope it all was worth it.


is this the age
you begin to see?
i saw violence
and hate,
and scorn.

when did this place
begin to fill me
with terror?
i lie awake
listening to the yells –
obscenity and crass articulation –
with my kitten
curled into my side.
even he has learnt
of horrors greater
than a tired scratching post.


don’t want to
think it;
don’t want to
feel it.

he wants to
get closer;
he wants to
feel her.

she wants to
get closer;
she wants to
let him in.

don’t want to
think it;
don’t want to
feel it.

if she holds
it in;
can she escape
the jinx?

if he holds
her tight;
will she escape
her demons?

don’t want to
think it;
don’t want to
feel it.

escape the jinx.
escape the jinx.
escape the jinx.

no surprise.

it does not
surprise her;
it is never

when she
has nothing
left to give;
and still?

it is never
how could she
have hoped?

the fear was
finally realised;
your truth

she could never
be enough;
how could she
have hoped?


there is
this road
i used to
walk –
i still
walk –
twice, sometimes
four times
a day.

i remember
the dark,
lonely paths,
and the
bright lights;
the quizzical
stares and
blurry footsteps.

straight and
narrow paths
are just
as dangerous
as wild
and winding
tracks; i felt
the dark,
solid weight.

now when
the sun
is shining,
i can
still recall
the black
holes of