In the darkened hours,
lost in fever dreams,
orchestrating affectionate insanity,
expecting the worst,
yet I still jump,
over the edge,
unleashing the words I swallow,
because I’m afraid you won’t like how they taste.
Under the bright lights you bring to my life,
tempted to stay,
in the fantasy we create.
Am I going mad?
Maybe I am just new to being needed,
sleeping in the shadow of my growing heart,
oblivious to how fast I fall.
Shaking as I wake and remember,
counting twinflowers as I wait for you to arrive,
always impatient, impossible,
racing past my past to keep up with who I want to be,
everything I think we can be,
dreaming with tentative hope.
There is a new podcast episode available, featuring some new poems, as well as discussions about about my adventures in dreamland, taking risks, fire safety in the UK, and… um… my new boyfriend. I also discuss the latest dramas in the upcoming general election, including free broadband, Scottish Independence and Boris Johnson getting a new bus.
I ask you again,
before you’ve even finished reassuring me,
for the thirteenth time,
I ask you if I’m awake,
existing in a time,
where someone truly adores me.
I rest my head,
on all the scenarios I have seen,
in my overactive, overexcited imagination,
asking myself why I can’t sleep,
why I can’t breathe,
why am I walking into woe for the hundredth time?
I sing my self through sad sweetheart hours,
pathetic and peering at my phone,
wasting all my wishes,
on texts and kisses,
that form a candy trail,
into your forest,
where I will meet my demise,
I will be relieved that it’s all over.