i let addiction slide in,
it's easier than breathing.

since when do i rhyme...

im sure id be there with you
if i could look past my eyes.
we laughed just like heart break
and you seeped through my mind
like disease.
and every time with time it skipped with ease.

this time it hits slowly
like a brickwall through my cunt.
this time's soft like honesty

steel wool
and absent rules.

saying ok instead of sorry
living circles instead of real
forgetting no thanks
and take, no asking
no questions, excuse me

im sorry.
it was late night
for your mid-morning
and id moved like clockwork for a while.
one of us to fall behind,
i think where the missing odd socks go
sometimes playing with my mind.

**edited sep 03- i hated those first two lines. this whole poems so OBVIOUS.

I am blood red legs spread I am the lie that flies through your window at dawn and stays nestled close by the sill for a quick escape when needed.

be faithful to yourself

so I trusted old instincts
betrayed all senses
and felt my way through
a familiar a pattern
as the marks on my bed sheets
as the scars
covered carefully.

that same commotion
and complaints
heavy waste,
the air was thick
and easy
a well known joke to rely on.

“don’t trust anyone”
I said
“don’t trust me”

we will promise each other
of all things,
we will be different
from our pasts,
we will never lie.

somehow they pile on top of
each other.

what is obvious,
strikingly clear
is the Truth
of who I am.

my head is a buzz
of poems
and puzzles
the yellow on the train
is Very
and the light from the window
my light
is clear.
purpose is a day
no more
or less
but everything
seems so much more,
and every day
seems so more
beautiful.

It is a habit growing I know but it puts me at ease.
I realised today I can live my life as a book, and never have to worry about the consequences or tragedies that might occur.
I can be a delightful character and never truly be hurt off the page. I can enjoy the twists and turns and highs and lows and turn to the next chapter. And even if it’s not resolved by then it’s ok. It’s just a book.
It is wonderful the way you can completely disassociate from life while all at once embracing it.

she liked the way
the water burnt her
late sunday afternoon
turned to evening
like that trip
where it all just melts away.

-lies lies lies not quite lies little white lies delight-

when i pick up the phone at home i always hear the beep beep beep of the correctional centre and its never him. im not home when he phones and maybe its on purpose or maybe ill say it is so i can look like a tough cunt and i can be FINE and hes the one with the problem hes the one whos changing. tell them im scared he'll be mean to me/he'll confirm what he already knows i am heading down a different direction to where we originally planned. ill keep my one promise i can for him and that beautiful day will be clear like china and we can meet back there i swear and we can start over. we can get a chance to start. he will hate everything i stand for but for pities stake will stay with with me so we can say we tried and our friendship is stronger. he can lie to me staight and arrow in my weakened heart and say it doesnt change what we are.

i do know that what ive made of us is mostly in my mind partly as much fantasy to escape the reality of everything that had passed and everything that was/is happening at this very moment. reality is although we know each other very well and love each other deeply in a way or as we can with the sort of friendship that we have acquired from each other reality is we do not know the truth of each other outside of walls of work and phones and we do not know each other in the real world we do not know each other more so it seems as the walls of a correctional centre seperate us. you told me not to get my hopes up or something like that-actually you said i was setting myself up for a fall. you set me up too though. was it more the heat of the moment whirlwind romance where you could have someone, intense and poetic crazy circles...without ever having to go anywhere near the shapes that we made?...or did you slip for a moment, release your guards and truly allow yourself to fall...for me...

andy and i lose control

I am learning you are not as perfect as I made you out to be. You are a scattered mosaic of all flaws that frustrate me beyond all means and makes me want to hold you closer. I am not the only one of us who needs looking after. You wanted to wrap me up in your tightest of tight holds and keep me safe and keep me innocent. You wanted to save me from the wicked witch of the past, and the bogeyman with clammy hands. You and I aren’t so different, something in your eyes tells me you’d like to be saved yourself. You and I are a lot of talk. You and I are frightened the same way, reaching for each other in the dark where there’s nothing so light as the way we laugh, about us. You and I are running away. And you are just a kid, like me.

Somewhere where head meets heart I had idolised you way up on this perfect little pedestal; just right for me to sit at your feet adoringly, all wide-eyed in your direction. Sooner or later you were going to fall, and the not-so-perfect parts of you started to break/break through and rebuild in to you. You are just a boy. I am drawn to the off cuts of you, stutter and arrogance and ratty hair. That tiny spark in your eyes that looks a little off balance/like you. A little scared that although you’ll never admit it, you might not always have the right answer. I wonder (and this wonder wavers near my very own fearful spark) if you think that you are better than me. You are as big a mistake as I am Andrew. But it’s not bad, not always. It is interesting and a very good short story (since the influx of letters have stopped, the size of the book has had to be cut considerably). And it is a learning curve- THAT you taught me.

i have this fascination with skeleton trees, like they have everything that makes a complete tree, yet somehow are not.
every time i see them i take a deep breath at their empty beauty.
growing out of water-for what?
i think she thought i was naive to think that that was the most beautiful sight imaginable. but to me it was a strange contradiction of life and death and a reminder you couldn't completely understand either of them.

i get scared/when im happy/ill be sad the ups are fast and too high for me to not worry about the fall. i remember sending riddles in txt messages to mel trying to make her understand that i couldn't place my emotions. that i couldnt keep up with what was happening in my head and it was wonderful at times but there was a strange emptiness surrounding the euphoria, where like me it wasn't quite right. and joking with andrew that i was manic and telling him EVERYTHING. that i was so fast at the end i always fell behind. not that it was to do with them, i just wanted someone to understand. more i wanted to know, did everyone get that? and you know how sometimes when i get nervous I becomes WE in my head...does everyone do that? am i doing this right? am i doing this real?

if what you're feeling turns out to be all in your head...does it make it any less real?

my mother told me i would be a very good writer, which would have been more of a compliment if she'd ever actually seen anything i'd written. she gave me three pages of absent-mother-catharsis outlining the demise of kerith from age 16 and up. drugs sex alcohol losing my arm to speed (apparently this is my future and she has watched today tonight ice is the new heroin).
and the best part is we never have to discuss it again. i can pretend it never happened and she can pretend she understands my life.