This is mine.
It’s the beat that keeps my lifeline in time.
When hell comes to meet me between unslept sheets, it’s divine.
When I can’t stand up straight, it’s my spine.
When latency claws at my throat and litters my voice with doubt,
it lets me shout.
When the raging sea spits me out, it’s my shore.
It’s everything my mother and father taught me.
It’s every lover who ever left me wanting a little bit more.
This is what I live for.
Fairy Lights – click to listen
Spam butterflies in your tummy
Spam butterflies in your tummy – click to listen
Fuck off and die
Don’t get excited.
This poem’s not for you.
I wrote it for some guy
I had a crush on back in school.
I wrote it for this guy
Who lives down my street,
For someone amazing,
Someone you’ll never meet.
‘Cause you are just some guy
That I sit next to at work
Who makes rubbish tea
And gets on my nerves
And I make fun of what you’re wearing
And how you get so pissed
And if anyone asks me
I’ll pretend we’ve never kissed
‘Cause it was just that one time
And it meant nothing, right?
And we are such good mates
And we go out every night.
But there’s something niggling at me
That I can’t bear to say
And when it rises up in me
I have to walk away
‘Cause maybe you’d laugh at me
Or worse, try to be kind,
Or if you were up for it
Maybe I’d change my mind
But the thing is when I see you
And you’re chatting up some chick,
These worms start crawling in my heart
And I want to be sick
And I want to spew this bile
All over you and over her
Until you sit me in a corner
And you call me a nurse.
And these thoughts make me so angry
‘Cause I don’t even like you
I think you’re arrogant and selfish
And I don’t respect your views
But then you look at me
And drums start beating
And cellists pop out of nowhere
And it makes me so embarrassed
That I have to leave my chair
And I go and walk it off
Or flirt with some random drone
And I try not to think about
Taking you home
And I try not to think about
Girlie romantic dross
Or how you look just like a little boy
When you get cross,
And all these things I want
That sound so dumb out loud.
Just shut your ears a minute
‘Cause I have to get them out:
I want to make packed lunch for you
And hold you when you’re sad
And watch the news together
And meet your mum and dad.
And if it was your kind of thing
I could dress up as Princess Leia
And maybe sometimes on Sundays
You could take me to Ikea
And we’d pick out lamps and steak knives
And argue by the showerheads
And drive home in silence
And make up in bed
I know this all sounds so banal
But if it was the two of us
It could be kind of great
And I wouldn’t have to take the bus.
You can open your ears now.
I’m not saying a thing.
And if you want to stay the night
I’m not letting you in
Beause I know that in the morning
You’d start acting like a phony
‘Cause I know deep down you’re thinking
That I’m just a one-trick pony.
So I’ll keep on acting natural
While you buy another round,
And you think I’m your wing woman,
And you think I’m really sound
But you’re blind if you can’t see
What’s right there before your eye
I want to be your girlfriend.
Now fuck off and die.