It's something I need
I want to say those three words
"Same here."comes instead
Points And NothingThey are in corners
of diagnoses, of medications, of popular symptoms
the ones we all know when we think the word
Of looking up to the sky and seeing nothing
Long-haired nihilism full of heat and music and bitter exhaustion
Of trying to find the hilarity amid the hurt
(it’s well known that a high number of comedians
are diagnosed with depression)
Of broken homes and dead siblings dead lovers dead friends
Just more reasons, reasons
Body always too small to hold the anger
Of I am not who I thought I was
something here is askew
Of quiet as a mouse chemical imbalances
leaning too far over the subway platform, almost enough
Shaking shaking scared and quiet and
“I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”
Of cuts and burns and drinks and pills
And how can something hurt this much
and still be invisible?
and days just wanting to curl up
and wish the world into nothingness for a moment
Of smiles hiding eyes hiding hearts h
UntitledMy unborn baby does not cry for its mother
My unborn baby does not ask me "Why?"
It cannot; it has no brain, no face, no body
It has no feelings
It is a scrape of cells from inside my body
That has not yet grown into a recognizable shape.
And will not.
It has been given false voice by the men of generations before me
By the eyes that still see women as property
And their bodies as vessels.
It does not dream of being a firefighter, a painter, an actress,
The way I dream of knowing that my body is mine
That my choice is mine
And that it was right
Closer To FineJack is storming when he gets back from the island. Ianto watches the CCTV from his hiding place in the archives as Jack kicks uselessly at the leg of his desk and collapses into his chair, pouring himself a big drink and pounding a fist on the blotter. Ianto decides to give Jack his privacy and files away reports from the 70s for a while. When things seem calmer, he goes up to the main Hub and makes two extra-strength coffees. He adds a shot of whiskey to Jack’s.
“Yeah, come in.” Jack’s voice is weary when Ianto knocks tentatively on the doorframe.
Ianto sets the tray on Jack’s desk and hands him a mug, taking his own and sitting on the chair across the desk. Jack wraps his hands around the mug like it’s a security blanket and inhales deeply, sighing at the scent of the familiar coffee.
Ianto looks into his cup. The dark liquid is decorated with milky swirls. “I’m sorry for helping Gwen.”
Jack swallows his coffee loudly. “I k
UntitledI just want a private beach
A field, a treetop, a desert
Where I can scream
Shout at the top of my lungs, shriek myself raw
Where everything leaves
In a thundering cloud of restless unknowing
The high-pitched clap of emotion
Sharp, all angles, dark so it sucks up all the light
Wet and rough and horrible, shaking
And when the scream is gone
And all that's left is pops and squeaks and air
And trembling lightness, heavy-light head,
I will breathe out emptiness and peace
I will float nothingness
I will sigh through cracked-light parted lips like
I'm trying to say something
Untitled - HuntedBrown boots tread wearily through
Sweat pours down his forehead and cheeks
Pools in his beard and drips off his lips
And yet he treads on
There is a darkness spreading,
Chasing him through the swamps
And he slogs through the mulch and moss,
Running to get away.
There is a dissonant note throughout the moor,
A primal scream of pain as the shadows pass by.
He trudges on, footsteps thudding, painful, sore.
Eyes wild, jaw set, breath fiery and grating.
His clothes are tattered, long hair grimy strings
The swamp seems to swallow him.
A drumbeat resonates from the mud,
Ringing ominously across the mist
His footsteps quicken.
They are coming.
There is no comfort, there is no safety
Fear is all he knows, the crimson taste of blood
The tortured sight of bone and twisting innards
And the blackened smell of burnt flesh
And the stinging, flashing terror of an unknown, unseen danger
Ever closer, always coming.
An enemy he knows will slide its fingers around his ribs and pull,
Who will wriggle under
Do EverythingWe all know we're going to die
The skeletal hand on the bone white spinning top
We all know we're going to die
And yet we live our lives day after day as if nothing will happen
Like if we wait, the adventure will come
Instead of the reality of having to go looking for it.
Even if we do have to trudge through mire and push through muck
And cry and scream and laugh and rage
We all know we're going to die
We just don't know when
And maybe there's a realization in there someday
That we just need to push forward
And get out and do
Just to get it into ourselves and out of ourselves
To feel and see and be.
To live and then die
And follow the golden light through the dark marsh
Clasp at sweaty fingers and beckoning mouths
Struggle to get up and out because
That's how it works
Take a side route and shove through the sucking mire
Grab and pull at firm hands, blink moisture from unguarded eyes
Take that ache and run with it
Run far and long because you are waiting
And someday it will find you
It is ending
And you realize that's what you've been waiting for all along
And now you stride out
And do everything
Cold And LonelyOwen stared after Gwen as the cog door rolled closed. Ianto sighed, leaning against the pillar as Tosh gazed off into middle distance. Suddenly, Owen's hands smacked the top of his desk. Tosh jumped.
"I cannot believe she said that. Who does she think she is?"
"That we all think it's cold and lonely out there. It's bollocks. What does she know? I had Diane I had her and it wasn't cold and lonely. And you, Tosh, you had Tommy. And Ianto had Lisa. But we all had them. We lost them. What's she ever lost from this job? Fuckin' nothing. This job, it's our life. We are all we have, and she says that."
Tosh sighed. "This job, it's twenty four-seven, but"
"But nothing. And what about Jack? What has he got? He lives here, in the Hub. Did you know that? I found out when I came in late one night. Who's he got? No one, I bet, like the rest of us. We're his family."
"And he has to send us out into the field every day." Ianto's voice was soft. He glanced to
An Important GiftIanto was doing his best to stay mad at Jack and ignore him, but the relief that Jack was back safe and sound continued to wash over him in waves, replacing the tension of the frustration and worry with the soft relaxed feeling of gladness and peace of mind. He was heading toward the autopsy bay with Owen's coffee when the alarm sounded.
"Uh, Jack? Security breach." Tosh's voice sounded. Jack was already down the stairs, hand at his belt.
"Woah! Wait!" A voice called out as the cog door rolled open, and Jack signalled for the rest of the team to lower their guns. A man in a brown suit stepped through the doorway, hands in his pockets.
"You could have just called and asked me to let you in, you know," Jack explained with an eye roll.
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Point. Where's Martha?"
"With her family. They need her right now. I'll go back and see her in a bit."
Ianto stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The man smiled, waving a little with his fingers. "Hello, I'm the Doctor." He held out a
Advice from Master Shao
As the Spinda moves
So the grass on the hill flows
A beautiful dance
As the Swablu sings
So does the wind in the trees
A beautiful song
As the Lunatone
Rises in the evening sky
The moon does also
Breath as the breeze does
Allow the wind to carry
Your spirit away
The world always moves
Regardless of what you do
You must also move
Sing like the Swablu
Rise just as the Lunatone
Dance like the Spinda
Stop to enjoy life
Or it will move without you
And you will be lost
February 28th, 2013
A feeble whimper for help;
roar of these raw times.
February 27th, 2013
Gluttonous ash cloud
sucks the moon's blood
and swallows the night.
February 26th, 2013
Bark! An explosion!
Angry bodies escape the
network of lung cells.
February 25th, 2013
multiplying, honing in,
determined to kill.
February 24th, 2013
Tea and sympathy
for my dear sister.
February 23rd, 2013
I will hold my breath
as the north wind does the same
waiting for your love.
February 22nd, 2013
He hovers behind;
February 21st, 2013
A long slow curve,
your smile upon my shoulder,
a scar of your touch.
February 20th, 2013
Where do you go while I sleep?
To whom do you run?
February 19th, 2013
Whorls from fingers
Imprinted in the trees
Count their rings too.
February 18th, 2013
(and the dark stopped being scary)once I fell asleep
beside you, I no longer
had need for nightlights.
To The Artist(s)To The Artist(s)
Art is born from pain
Beauty in a world of hurt
Show this world your scars