seven weeks

i talk at people
and lonely people don’t talk back

i loved my laugh seven weeks before you made me laugh
and i was laughing at myself

that’s okay
there’s nothing much here anyway
no one’s missing anyone



if i named you by name, you would take me as another trophy
maybe your favourite collected effort trophy
even though one of you is missing, gone,
i wish you could drown without drowning
so you could feel what it feels like to be your product
while you remain fake free
(but you’re lying in knee-deep water

6.00 am

i swallow fake medicine down with wine
and moments later i’m shouting from your rooftop
it’s love that makes me
sipping on champagne with your laugh around the edge of the glass
a plastic drink bottle in my backpack because i broke everything
but you woke me up in the morning,
‘did you make it?
‘did you survive?’
i swallow my good times back with flat wine
never enough, though

dinner guest

i am quickly reacquainted with my year 8 depression
more familiar with who i am when i am no one to everyone
more familiar with myself when rolled eyes hint at a perceived lack of self-awareness
i am not thankful and i have never adopted kindness
i am graced by my guest more commonly known as Hypocrisy
and stupid dreams that died when i tried to
i let everyone take home a different clone of me because i don’t need her
and i never loved her
there is nothing genuine about this and my fingers have been crossed for eight years.

pretend people poetry

i used to have a green jumper
and a blue, pink, yellow …
i wish i could mourn the tasteless poetry i no longer get to read
no longer have the privilege to pretend to feel
or the wasting goodbyes i spit too frequently years too late
but i can’t step outside in my green jumper
because i’m covered in your gall to call me selfish,
ugly, worthless, i am covered in the low self-esteem gifted to me
i wish i could mourn the pretend people poetry
and the way medicine drowns its eyes in foggy late-night swims
it is more like carving a clay-like person inside this skin every day
because Greed for acceptance got me covered in hairline fractures