Sam Alexandra Rose

Tag: spilled ink

  • intermittent wails

    Intermittent wails
    Sirens sing a shrill warning –
    Baby police car.

  • I Am Pluto

    I am Pluto –
    I have been told what I am
    and what I am not.

    But I am not Pluto –
    My status is not dependent
    on what other people think of me.

    I am Pluto –
    I could be big and mighty
    but I’m made to feel small.

    I am not Pluto –
    I am not devoid of craters,
    nor am I mountainous.

    I am Pluto –
    I can be difficult to understand,
    and so far, far away.

    But I am not Pluto –
    There are no secrets here,
    I am not a mystery to be solved.

    I am a planet. I am not a planet.
    I am Pluto. I am not Pluto.

  • Disintegrating

    We are the remnants
    of our former selves.
    We are the remains,
    the leftovers.

    To feel like you have been halved,
    partially destroyed,
    and to still have something
    breaking you down bit by bit,
    this is one of the hardest things.
    How much of me will there be left?

    There is something wrong with this.
    There is something wrong with me.

    I have survivor’s guilt
    because while I feel traumatised
    from what I’ve lived through
    (and may yet live through still),
    other people have actually died
    and others still are grieving.

    But I forget I am grieving too –
    the loss of a self,
    the loss of trust and confidence
    the loss of untouched health.

    and when I get wrapped up in this,
    I forget to be grateful
    and I feel guilty for a new reason.

    too many feelings have formed
    and now they all mesh together
    in one big ball, creating
    a new emotion that is
    unidentifiable
    and inescapable.

    ***

    (more…)

  • Portrait

    I am plagued by what
    people assume I will be.
    And I don’t want to accept it
    and smile with you.
    I’m not happy to be the picture
    you have painted of me.
    I will not stand and pose like a
    mirror image of that portrait.
    I don’t want you to frame me that way.
    I just want to be seen as what I am
    and the potential of what I could be.

  • Haunted like me

    Ghosts have found a home
    wrapped around my throat
    and I can’t breathe.
    that’s where they’re most
    comfortable; that’s where
    I expect them to be.
    it’s testing time;
    these are testing times
    if you are haunted like me.

    I have made friends with
    my ghosts and they understand
    my thoughts. They float inside
    my head. There are ghosts
    resting on my chest,
    juggling with my breath and
    I can’t catch it.
    They won’t let me near it.
    I am playing piggy in the middle
    with my ghosts and it makes me
    too tired to be fired up,
    too tired but still I am reaching out to
    try to catch my breath; I am
    reaching out for someone who is
    haunted like me.

  • Headphones

    When we were small
    the days towered above us
    and we couldn’t see past today
    to worry about tomorrow.

    Remember that, when the years were new?
    Remember when time barely moved?

    But now time is a knotted ball in my mind,
    a tangled pair of headphones –
    mangled experiences, shredded pictures,
    a soundtrack distorted by groans.

    Now all I can decipher is
    those headphones still knotted in my head
    a fear of the years flying too fast
    and before too long, being dead.

  • Discount on my chapbook

    My chapbook is available with 25% off this weekend! Just use code GWW25 at the checkout.

    Here’s the link: http://ow.ly/PfMEh

    And an extract:

    And a big, big hug for anyone who checks it out – you are awesome! <3

  • wishes

    what if I never break?

    what if I walk forever undamaged

                                   never dying

                                   never meeting an
    end

    what if

    I never

                   see

    what kills me

                   so greatly

    that would be the

    best thing

  • a cancerous week

    so we’re going down this route?
    let’s pretend this is fiction.

    I
    can’t I can’t  I can’t I can’t
    there’s
    too much of it
    there’s
    just too much of it
    when
    will it end
    when
    will it go away
    I
    just can’t I’m sorry 

    I can’t go anywhere without it
    It’s
    been a bad week.
    It’s
    not like I’m holding onto it
    I
    just can’t let it go – it’s holding onto me
    so
    what am I supposed to do? 

    I
    can only apologise to myself
    again
    it’s
    been five years since I found out what was going to happen
    five
    years since that photo was taken
    when
    I forced a smile for the flash
    when
    I had something to say but just couldn’t
    when
    I was silent
    when
    you didn’t fucking notice
    when
    I was in shock and it felt sort of like
    no
    big deal
    when
    I didn’t cry 

    I
    am worse now
    I
    am feeling now
    I
    am five years late

    it’s
    been a cancerous week, alright?
    and
    I don’t mean that like how the
    songs
    and the sayings bandy it around
    not
    “I’m as serious as cancer
    when
    I say rhythm is a dancer”
    but
    actual cancer in forums, songs, tv
    where
    I don’t expect it – cancer creeping
    up
    on me, thrown around everywhere
    and
    I have to deal with it
    and
    I fucking can’t
    I
    just fucking can’t
    it’s
    Friday and I’m drinking and
    there
    is probably something wrong with this
    and
    no I’m not sorry
    but
    there is no need for you to worry
    only
    me
    and
    it’s only me
    let
    me deal with this
    I’ll
    take care of it
    somehow
    in
    the morning things will be
    better
    or worse
    I’m
    not sure
    I’d
    love to share this but I can’t
    I’d
    fucking love to share this but I can’t

  • 12

    I’m just trying to keep afloat today.
    There is a reason why the number twelve
    is at the top of the clock face.
    It’s because each hour is an aspiration,
    every day completion an accomplishment.

    but this is
    mouth-numbingly painful