Princess

December 13, 2016 § Leave a comment

Feeble sex
Afraid and crying
In the wrinkled shade of the canyon

Rhythm stolen
He slowly fucks the love back inside

A grimy wrist swings limp in the stale air of her forgotten castle
Once the author of tangled charity acts, polished immortality
Now, some belated chick

Camaro snarls penetrate from out on the blacktop
As the blanket creeps, pilled up, over goosebumped flesh


My mam emailed me to say she’s too thick to understand this. Which actually makes her really smart because it’s assemblage. I just find the most used words on Hello Poetry – a corpus of love and sorrow – and look for interesting patterns. This kind of writing is only asking you to find your own meaning in the meaningless nonsense. It’s your Rorschach.

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I WILL ONLY BE ME

October 14, 2016 § Leave a comment

Compromising on the me-ness of me is too high a price to pay for fitting in.

 

Changing With the Leaves

October 5, 2016 § Leave a comment

It’s a new season for me. I’ve decided that I’m reaching the point in my life where I am an adult. A human that is no longer just a morbid collection of childhood hurts, teen angst and treasured disappointments languishing in the dusty trophy cabinet where badness lives.

After so many years of being puppeteered by fear, guilt and a need to change myself, I’m now a collapsed pile of limbs and costume, relieved and resting.

That need to change. I was always trying to improve myself, based on my own bizarre list of personal standards. Not improve; CHANGE. Erase what was there and replace it with something better.

And now I’m not. The work I do now is acceptance. I like who I am. I can put time and effort into buffing up the good ’til it glows, and I can sandpaper the not-so-good to a smoother finish if I fancy a spot of DIY. But I’m not a problem to be overcome. I’m a maze, a puzzle; the whole point of my life – any life, I think – is the adventure of exploration as one figures out the next turn.

I guess this means therapy works. It’s been tricky and not always nice, and it’s taken a lot of mind-bending. A lot of shouldering open stuck doors in the cobwebbed old library I keep upstairs.

There’s books in there I could burn, but I won’t. I’ve sorted them, bundled them – then put them aside. I’ll keep them like old text books from school; they’re how I got here and they taught me everything I know, but I’m not going to build the next 40 years on them.

A big stack of obsolete books. Theories disproved, authors forgotten and covers faded to grey.

I Am Good at Halloween

September 28, 2016 § Leave a comment

The time is here. It’s happening. All of the clothes I can’t usually get are arriving in the shops. This is my annual H&M stock-up of all things batty, toothy, boney and cobwebby.

Joyful time!

My Patronus

September 23, 2016 § Leave a comment

patronus

Can’t. Stop. Watching.

Autumn Orphan

September 15, 2016 § Leave a comment

That’s my look for this season.

It’s a look I’ve largely cribbed from my mother over many years. Stompy boots with knee socks under a net skirt under a cosy jumper, with a leather jacket on top.

For a good while, my winter uniform has been black tights with a black stretch mini skirt and army boots. I don’t know what’s different but I feel excited about wearing something that ISN’T uniform this year. And ventures beyond black.

autumn-orphan

Recycling the Files

September 12, 2016 § Leave a comment

​Tonight my counsellor asked me what the ‘rubbish’ in my head looks like – what kind of bin? – and I pictured it as piles of dusty old files that look like they’ve spent 40 years in the back of a dentist’s office. Fairly mundane and irrelevant trivia that should be digitised and uploaded to the cloud where necessary; safe but not taking up space.

I swear that man’s a genius. 

  • Honor Clement-Hayes
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