word vomit

my name is word vomit,
spitting, I Hate You
you’re not Good Enough

an it’s All Your Fault
before I go to bed
tucked under my pillow.

I am thunder,
because lightning is prettier,
just noise,
falling flat into ears
that just Don’t want to hear it

a Please, Come Back,
I Mean It
that no one ever said.

empty promises,
an I Can’t Stop Walking on Egg Shells,
Burden, in the way,
a Get Over It
you’re too difficult,
there are more important things.

my name is word vomit
because I Don’t Listen
spitting, yelling, screaming,
I Can’t Love You.

I am I Never Wanted You At All.

lumpy, ugly, fat
put some make up on
you’re revolting to look at

skip dinner,
you really don’t need it,
maybe someone will love you
when you get a little thinner

everyone thinks it too,
you know

no one’s stopping me,
you know

you won’t have any friends
until you change
you won’t

be her,
is what I actually want
be anyone but you

no one wants you


i’ve been gripping at the night sky

(don’t end don’t end don’t end)

sharing my bed with non lovers
and loving them all
until they leave me in the morning

i’m sleeping away days
with bruised bones
and cracked, dry lips

with no dreams in my head
or stars in my eyes
just the night sky

I begged it to stay,
to stop me from trying again

(why do I keep trying)

but I guess none of this
really matters

goose bumps

it’s so quiet
I can hear my heart beating
from my toes to my ears

and her laugh
is like a tornado flooding my veins
cutting through the silence
like smooth blades of ice

You taught me that love
was leaving thorns under fingernails
and biting back screams

You taught me that freedom
was haunting my own mind
trying to miss what I lost

the night crawls in chills up my spine
I can feel you escaping
through the goose bumps
on my knees

I don’t want to live my life
writing essays
sitting next to people who sniff
              on the train

I don’t want to live my life
not being able to meet a deadline
without losing hours of sleep
              the night before

And I can’t help but think
maybe if you had looked after me properly
I’d be able to handle living my life
without thinking “what’s the point?”


The rain hits us like small reminders;
cold, heavy, uncomfortable.
We sit under the crying sky,
our legs and faces glistening,
our backs shivering,
but our mouths are laughing,
pleading and talking
into the night,
not afraid –
standing still and still
(we’ll always be)