Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

If I Loved Him

If I loved him,

I would be staring fear directly in the face,

hoping that I could hold myself together,

torn by the temptation to tear myself limb from limb,

rebuilding myself into the girl I am,

in his dreams.

I hold my eyes open,

so that I can’t sleep,

hoping he’ll mimic me,

because I’m not sure I can be that girl,

anymore.


Read My Books

Hear My Music

Hear My Podcast

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
In The Garden Of The Free Children
Virgin Vogue
Sad Girl’s Love Song

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Soundcloud
Instagram
Ask Jen

Facebook
Patreon

Tumblr
Amazon

Podcast
Spotify

YouTube
Rumbl
Email Me

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Lifestyles Of The Loved And Blameless

I’m mad about your mania,

making plans that always revolve around your ruling passion,

your crazed addiction,

for the way I simply exist.

I am forever hanging out in your hang ups,

the prettiest of your preoccupations,

possessing your every thought,

your darling demon,

corrupting your conscious,

until it breathes,

lives,

pleads for me.

img_0811

I am the fight that leaves you faltering,

the spoiled spectre that will always haunt you.

I am your Kootie Pie Koopa,

and I want your whole heart for my birthday,

I spend my summers,

sitting on the tip of your tongue,

spoken into your serene dreamscape,

keeping your gaze as a gift for myself.

I am going to be the empress of everywhere,

knocking down the real world,

to build a dream for us to live in,

where I will rule supreme,

sometimes letting it seem like we could be close,

before I break old boundaries out of prison,

and let them terrorise our newfound happiness.

img_0810

These are the lifestyles of the loved and blameless.

I confess,

I cannot explain,

why you seem to look at me,

and see the answer to every prayer and birthday wish.

I think I play up,

being a spoiled bitch,

just to see how long it takes,

for you to decide that I’m just not pretty enough for that kind of behaviour,

I count down the days,

wondering how long it takes,

for the magic to wear off,

wondering when you will see what everyone before you saw,

even before I decided I deserved the world,

wondering when I will no longer be someone you love,

simply becoming someone you fuck and lie to.

img_0808

And maybe in the end,

I will regrettably remain a stuck up kitten,

who won’t sign autographs,

for the sake of my sanity,

and self preservation,

and you,

merely a meek mouse,

will always be my biggest fan.

Maybe,

in the end,

I’ll realise that you never say no,

because you know that nobody else said yes.


Read My Books

Hear My Music

Hear My Podcast

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Virgin Vogue
Sad Girl’s Love Song
Drowning In Us

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Soundcloud
Instagram
Ask Jen

Facebook
Patreon

Tumblr
Amazon

Podcast
Spotify

YouTube
Rumbl
Email Me

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Left Behind

Maybe the way your voice shakes isn’t an impediment,

it’s relevant to remember,

that you only get caught up,

abandoned by your own breath,

when you think too much,

about the way you lost your last voice.

img_0547

You only get fucked up,

when you think of how you lost her,

the way she clung to your coat,

as you began the long road away from yourself,

closing your eyes,

as if it would silence her screams,

as she begged and pleaded,

wondering why she wasn’t good enough to stay in your body.

img_0548

Maybe it’s an indication,

that you’re choking on the things you stole,

and the corpse of your last cause,

your last voice,

that you lost,

lays inside your throat,

staring up at the way she was replaced,

growing more vengeful every day,

getting in the way of your new life.


Read My Books

Hear My Music

Hear My Podcast

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Virgin Vogue
Sad Girl’s Love Song
Drowning In Us

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Soundcloud
Instagram
Ask Jen

Facebook
Patreon

Tumblr
Amazon

Podcast
Spotify

YouTube
Rumbl
Email Me

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Completely

Say it isn’t so,

say you haven’t figured me out,

ah,

you utter bastard,

you know all about me,

weaving through my wayward games,

to pin me down,

playfully pushing me out of my comfort cavern,

until I am uncomfortable with how comfortable I am with you.

img_0293

You ask me if I want to live my life alive,

or if I’m happy playing dead.

I said something vague,

and your eyes hit the sky,

holding me so tight,

I worry I will meld with you,

completely.

img_0294

We take our days,

like you used took your drugs,

it’s enough for me,

that you said I keep you clean,

meaning so much,

makes my wings itch,

but I am desperate to see a new face in the mirror,

one who doesn’t need to impress you,

one who has grown past my need to flee the scene,

when life gets too good.

img_0292

This is the part where it’s different.

There will be days where it’s different.

Like, maybe life really is you make it,

and I’m stronger when weak for you.


Download free copies of my books here


Read My Books

Hear My Music

Hear My Podcast

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Virgin Vogue
Sad Girl’s Love Song
Drowning In Us

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Soundcloud
Instagram
Ask Jen

Facebook
Patreon

Tumblr
Amazon

Podcast
Spotify

YouTube
Rumbl
Email Me