I performed during the July edition of "If Walls Could Talk", a local poetry open mic held at Gaslight Cafe. I managed to perform two pieces, and a couple of people came up to me and wanted to know more about my writing - thus this site. I figured it'd be better to consolidate all my personal writing in an attempt to be more organised.
I'm also learning how to Bullet Journal (#bujo, as the community puts that), so we'll see how that goes.
So, to avoid more rambling on about my life - here are the two pieces I performed in their entirety.
1. [there's something wrong with my programming]
you know what she said when she saw me? / "she was made not born" / I think she's right / I think I'll never get that sentence / out of my head/ I'm slowly going out of my mind / and truthfully, I'm an artificial kind of monster / a stitched together soul / in the golden body of an angel / wide eyes and soft lips / perfect pasted on smile / but dead eyes / cold eyes / lifeless eyes / fake spark in them that you can see / or maybe it's the other way around / swinging hips and swinging fists / nails like talons and sharp teeth / blood red lips and a cruel smile / I'm not a machine / but why did you make me / why is there something wrong with me? / why don't the pieces fit right? / why don't I work right? / why why why / why did you name me grace when you made me savage / why did you do this? / WHAT AM I?
2. 金繕い (kintsukuroi)
marks are purple, blue, red
yellow and green when they're healing
there's a rainbow on my skin and it's the most beautiful I've been in a long time
my vision goes red with rage, at myself, at the world, at everything
orange and yellow remind me of sunsets that'll never be mine again, of evening views from 10 storey buildings
green and blue like the ocean I wished I could sink beneath, waves of emotion that drown me in the thoughts inside my stupid, broken brain
indigo twilight, nights spent alone with the mingled scents of dying flowers, roses and violets pressed between books I read aloud to myself in an attempt to silence the voices in my head
I wanted to dream of you in colours I've never seen before, a spectrum of things I could only imagine
I want you to kiss me until my lips bruise, until my teeth cut against the inside of my mouth
I want an imprint of you there, so maybe I'll remember to feel real when I feel like nothing
and I feel nothing, sometimes. I wish I could feel something
something good, something pure, something clean
something that makes me feel better than empty, something that fills up the broken spaces in between the cracks that other people have left, something other than the angst and bitterness that threaten to eclipse everything
so kiss me, mark me, in an attempt to mend these cracks with gold
I'm also learning how to Bullet Journal (#bujo, as the community puts that), so we'll see how that goes.
So, to avoid more rambling on about my life - here are the two pieces I performed in their entirety.
1. [there's something wrong with my programming]
you know what she said when she saw me? / "she was made not born" / I think she's right / I think I'll never get that sentence / out of my head/ I'm slowly going out of my mind / and truthfully, I'm an artificial kind of monster / a stitched together soul / in the golden body of an angel / wide eyes and soft lips / perfect pasted on smile / but dead eyes / cold eyes / lifeless eyes / fake spark in them that you can see / or maybe it's the other way around / swinging hips and swinging fists / nails like talons and sharp teeth / blood red lips and a cruel smile / I'm not a machine / but why did you make me / why is there something wrong with me? / why don't the pieces fit right? / why don't I work right? / why why why / why did you name me grace when you made me savage / why did you do this? / WHAT AM I?
2. 金繕い (kintsukuroi)
marks are purple, blue, red
yellow and green when they're healing
there's a rainbow on my skin and it's the most beautiful I've been in a long time
my vision goes red with rage, at myself, at the world, at everything
orange and yellow remind me of sunsets that'll never be mine again, of evening views from 10 storey buildings
green and blue like the ocean I wished I could sink beneath, waves of emotion that drown me in the thoughts inside my stupid, broken brain
indigo twilight, nights spent alone with the mingled scents of dying flowers, roses and violets pressed between books I read aloud to myself in an attempt to silence the voices in my head
I wanted to dream of you in colours I've never seen before, a spectrum of things I could only imagine
I want you to kiss me until my lips bruise, until my teeth cut against the inside of my mouth
I want an imprint of you there, so maybe I'll remember to feel real when I feel like nothing
and I feel nothing, sometimes. I wish I could feel something
something good, something pure, something clean
something that makes me feel better than empty, something that fills up the broken spaces in between the cracks that other people have left, something other than the angst and bitterness that threaten to eclipse everything
so kiss me, mark me, in an attempt to mend these cracks with gold