Me and My Appletiser

I think we should take a moment to appreciate
The anger that I take, the smiles that I fake,
The people whose hands I shake
And say, “I’m pleased to be where I am today”.

That I am 50x the woman I aspired to be,
That I have more than I dreamed,
That I splash my feelings out to the bottom of the sea
And tell it, I am ready.

I am ready to face freedom of expression,
Take myself and my emotions and grow myself
From a state of malnutrition,
Me and my Appletiser, can in hand,

On the edge of the road wearing loom bands
Saying “I do not regret what I have to say”
Because I said it, and I married it with things I call
‘Disappointment’, and the fires I have lit

With a storm of words,
I have tornados and hurricanes of kisses
To tell you that this is pure bliss and I have saturated
Your blood into my cup

And turn it into wine.
I am no prophet, no Daughter of God,
I’m no descendant of Eve or waterlogged
With religion, I respect these traditions,

Of jumping on the bandwagon
And realisin’
No. I should be completely my own.
And I married myself.

I married myself like moons on the sand dunes,
I glisten with your love,
I tug at the tide and brush my problems under it like a rug,
I have been bitter, I have swallowed insults like sea water

And I have raised the sun from its corners.
I know souls, I feel their glow.
Me and my Appletiser, can in my hand
On those red traffic lights feeling the support of the land

Grounded underneath me.
Telling me what to be.
I tell Ben ‘Haters gonna hate’
Because of what I say infuriates,

And I take the pain I feel and make others feel irate,
Fuck you for falling for it,
In that trap when the ground gives away,
I have footprints on the coast and those prints aren’t here to stay

Trust me, lovers, friends, people I have crushed with my syllables,
I write with frills and lace and I write with pace and I do it for a thrill,
I cut myself with my own honesty,
I grated my fingernails with false modesty,

I am the definition of talent, I am the Genie, and my own wishes are my commands,
I live off the fat of the land,
I taste the tears of a grown man
And I tell him, “Its not personal”, “It’s a thrill”

Take me and the sleeping pills
And hang on cliffs, dripping illness,
Scratch the paint off the windowsill,
Take a match and burn your bastard family down in it

Burn it down to hell.
Take your failures, make use of them.
Take your vulnerability and let them make you into something.
I didn’t learn all this without being bludgeoned!

Why are you so shocked all of a sudden?
I write these hasty things because I am a strong woman,
I am a little girl, I am a baby in the womb,
I am the ages of every stage and I seem to have blossomed,

And that is why when you take your fears
And pot them like plants into your heart
They are fed so much they grow out of your ears
You must wear your flaws and mistakes like art,

I mean it, be who you are,
You have to wear them on your Hollister and your Topman
You have to cross off your problems
And draw a line in the sand,

And take your can,
Say “me and my Appletiser”, or “me and my Pepsi Cola”
or “me and my Stella”,
And walk across the road and know

That you are grown,
And that these shoes are big but you’ll fill em’
Take your lessons and your self-confidence,
And flowers will bud from your plants.


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