you make me a shadow of who I am or aspire to be. is it the same me who was a long time ago? maybe not that long… maybe I still am maybe I haven’t changed or grown at all.

this is DEFINITELY not a poem

I can’t lay my head to rest Too distracted by the heart Beating in my chest I wish I could put Those sleepless nights to some use Maybe write a book or two But no such luck That won’t happen anytime soon I’m still stuck


How do I shine
you’ve stolen all the light

I’m not a star
you’re no longer my sky

Gone #2

I woke up gone from the present and present in the past you disappeared so fast but a part of me still lingers on the shelf above your bed I woke up gone from my head but still when I left a part of me stayed against my own will I woke up with you gone…


Sometimes I sit and stare at the falling leaves, pretend they give me inspiration while all I can really think about is how you built me a home in your arms and how I turned you down, chose the homeless life and called it an independent path. But my feet are always cold and autumn takes…

Words of Blue

No, don’t stop. You always said you liked to watch me work, said you didn’t mind me piling up my words along the walls of every room. Then something changed, the spell broke. All of a sudden my words of blue didn’t go together with your mood. You said they were doomed, you threw them away…

this is not a poem #3

I used to find comfort in words and words used to flow so effortlessly now sweat breaks on my forehead and I choke on my thoughts as I lie in bed and how many times a day am I to tell me I’m okay how are these haunted words once innocent to cure my crushed and fragile soul they hurt and they say it…

I Am a Moment

grab me like I’m the moment you wouldn’t dare to forget don’t capture me like I’m something you can keep framed on your wall breathe me feel me burn your lungs live me like I’m the only thing you’ll ever taste Here’s another pile of words, while Mrs Reckless is off to collect her thoughts…

this is not a poem #2

I kick harder and harder desperate to move faster and faster Away from this miniature town the prison that gladly watched me suffocate and placed bets on how long it would take to end me Not long one glimpse into the past enough to make me shake inside and crumble I push through the laboured breaths and the heartache rising…

this is not a poem

I can’t feel my thoughts anymore Or maybe I feel them too vividly Why do we always have to act As if things are more than what they really are I’m not quite yours And you’re definitely not mine Now this is the place where there should come a but But There is none Please…

Not My Words

Is it okay to steal to fill my head with borrowed thoughts? Is it a crime to yell to tell my story in someone else’s paragraphs? Will you boo me sue me for feeding you lines already spoken? I really don’t know what I’m doing, but at least I’m doing something.


How bloody ironic is it of me to beg you to let me out when it is me who’s still holding you hostage inside the prison of my brain