Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Happiness, And Other Made Up Fairy Tales

I thought,

for a change,

I might try to be happy.

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I read once,

that you can have the life you dream of,

if you believe enough,

but I’ve swallowed so much snake oil,

that I’m not sure there is room for more,

so my belief system is just a blanket of bad ideas,

patched up by occasional optimism.

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I read once,

that reality is just a state of mind,

but my mind always seems a right state,

so I couldn’t quite appreciate it,

and that just joined the patchwork hell,

another horse on my mind’s merry go round,

spinning and singing old songs,

with everything else up there,

while I try and figure out what’s going on out here.

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I read once,

that if you smile enough,

you start to believe it.

I read once,

that if you say things enough,

you start to believe it.

I read once,

that if you repeat YOUR truth enough,

you start to believe it.

I read once,

that if you put your reality into the world enough,

you start to live it.

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I am happy.

I am smiling.

I know why I’m here.

I know where I’m going.

I don’t feel empty.

I am not lonely.

I am not lying.

I AM SO HAPPY.

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I thought,

for a change,

I might try to be happy,

but some girls just aren’t made for that.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Halloween Hell

You held me close,

holding a halloween mask to your face,

hoping your costumed bravery would not betray you,

on the sofa,

suffering from a racing heart,

racy thoughts,

to distract you from the dark screen,

dark dreams.

Suffering for me,

your desensitised darling,

Halloween hell,

that lasts all year,

but lives in heaven.

You haunt my heart.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

The Mad Queen

My eyes are pleading,

I am kneeling,

and then writhing,

whispering,

like Lady Macbeth,

captivated by your cruelty.

I am crazy,

with a heart so white,

black silk,

layered with lace,

on our bed,

trying to ask,

but predictably preoccupied,

with how much I fear power,

for its own sake,

or otherwise.

I am holding the covers,

against where you belong,

my eyes are wide,

pleading,

I hide my heart,

so white but so willing,

whispering,

blood all over my body,

granting guilt safe passage to my soul,

madness and death are looming above me,

but I don’t care,

because at last,

you are overcome,

by a mad Queen’s whispers and whimpers,

berating blankets,

that have touched what was always yours.

Brief,

timeless touches,

bring me closer to madness,

closer to crazed closure.

I am a sweet, satanic witch,

beckoning your body,

my dearest love,

my hand,

my tongue,

looks like the innocent flower,

but you know better,

my dearest love.

You know better.