Change

Weren’t we the same?
I don’t understand.

Two brunettes under the sun
Smiling.

There were boys to toy with,
Karaoke to be sung.
There was life.
And it was all at once silly and wonderful.

Of course we were scared of the bigness.
It was always below, we knew.
But we would always fight to stay above.

When did you stop fighting?

Mr. Porter

Well-dressed little man
listen
he knows
Calms those who would disrupt
Without any aknowledgement

Courteous, unknown to this age
Stands at his post to greet
The very door I used to enter

Now I pass to the next
feeling adulterous

But still he smiles at me

do you know me?

so i see you are versed in my ways
the names of my pets
my favourite classes
how i spend my time
nice that you care


you even know
where i've been
where i hope to go
and why these dreams
can draw my tears


so i have a challenge for you
tell me
since i'm sure you know


what i felt in the dark
why
i press my fingers into cutting metal strings
until they bleed
why i move the colours around
why i can't stop moving
not for a second


what brings tight anxiety to my throat
so many nights

and why do i smile when you look at me

(untitled)

Trust
is a scary thing
Why do you want me?
Will you be here tomorrow?
This is all I am.
Will you protect it?
Trust
is a scary thing
Because I've been dropped before
Not by you
But it happened
And my heart remembers the feeling.
I know you don't want to send me shattering
But do you have what it takes?
Because it's me on the line.
Trust
is a scary thing

5 minutes i don't have

in a house with 5 people
I can guarantee that 5 days a week
those 5 people
will spend a maximum of 5 hours under that common roof together
occupied with a minimum of 5 worries each
at once

Five asks One,
"Daddy, look at my project!"
clutching the precious popsicle stick catastrophe
no recognition, barely a glance
Five gives up and moves on
a trail of Elmer's legacy behind her pyjamad figure

hope
Two and Four are together
Five makes "TAADAA!" her entrance
"We're BUSY." from Four
"Don't interrupt," from Two, sweetened with "Honey."
the glue parade marches on

Five reaches Three
(Three happens to be me)
and I am beyond busy, long overworked
yet Five, the littlest finger on our deformed hand,
asks for 5 of something mine:
minutes

and I really can't spare them
in all honesty, I don't have them
if I did, I would be too irritable to give them

but when I look I can tell
that this Five needs my 5

so
the 5 minutes I don't have
are given to admiration of miniature medieval cardboard

screw bio
this is my sister