crying in the elevator

mike why’d you have to go n do this to me?
15 minutes into my life and i was staring my mother out

but she won.

and it’s not like it’s some kind of competition but
the capacity to make a man’s eyes water
as he holds his hooch from across the bar

is absolutely delicious.

mike i’m crying in the elevator
with a pizza crust sat like a sad smile
in the bottom of my stomach.

mike i told you
humans are the biggest oxymoron in existence
which makes us amazing

but such a pain in the arse.

i don’t like winning anymore
and so men who settle the score with me
i adore,

cos my heart was decapitated from a head of kisses
that many fucks ago an ex gave me
and he told me, he told me,

you’re amazing, lymh

and he calls me baby and hands me cake like dummies
for i am sickly
and cannot quite manage hangovers as i could 3 weeks ago

i drink to remember what it felt like kissing jäger off his dirty t-shirt
and i drink to remember what a lovely curse i’ve been given
that sucking cocks just isn’t fun anymore

and that i hate the sound of my own voice in seminars

15 minutes into my life mike

my ex was holding my hair behind my neck
wet from the rain

marry me, you shit

what kind of a man drinks hooch
and what kind of a man proposes after a 2am argument as i vomit,
howling tears to the moon?

i dunno mike.

but i’m still crying in this elevator cos of you.


“don’t you miss having a penis inside you?”

my housemate is stirring his cup a soup
and i am wearing my skin inside out on the sofa
thinking no one has noticed how naked i am
yet thinking i don’t care thinking that if i draw attention to myself
my penniless heart will speak again

and it could be the fact that i am getting kicked out of spoons’ with you
and it could be the fact that i am puffing on cigs with you

but i was never ready for the way your eyes
would pinch my cheeks mid-conversation
as your lips smack together weeping inbetween
croaking stuff like
“chomsky, unfair, obligatory, yes, no”

and whenever i light a vanilla scented candle in my room
i think about the way it hurts to be in love with a fantasy
and the way you were like a disappointing subway sandwich
and she put pickles on it instead of cucumber

I am never in the mood for rain these days
I used to love it because i wanted to be more like bella swan
and be complicated n interesting
but now it is changing,
i am wearing clothes like my mother’s

and i have been happy eating birthday cake alone in my room in the afternoon
and listening to magpies beat their tails on my windowsill

and i have enjoyed not having a penis inside me every day
i have enjoyed being held by a man that does not want me
and kissing his cheek as though we were two daisies nodding at each other
i have enjoyed not being sat on the sofa crying over kfc waiting for a phone call.

i have enjoyed fucking a stage to pieces and putting tears in peoples’ eyes
you ask me to tell you what to do
and i could cry
because i don’t know

i just wanna go home take my bra off
sit topless in bed and put season 1 of gavin and Stacey on

and not tell you how utterly utterly broken my ex has left me
and that i am incapable of loving anyone but the sun
and a long walk along the beach
i don’t miss having a lopsided penis inside me
with words like “baby baby” in my ear

i was a change in season and a lick of the wind
and suddenly i am love with myself again.

“she’s had a misspent youth, this one”

you hung out with me at a time when my chest was boundless, dead
the same sentiment you get when you pass roadkill on the motorway
the curious sad “oh” you make as you drive by the carcass.
you thought half an ecstasy pill was enough to keep me high
you thought one-sixteenth of an acid tab was enough to thrill me

my eyes weren’t doing anything.
and you weren’t changing colour.
we have the same dealer.
you think it’s cool that you sometimes run errands for him.
i think it’s boring to pass over a gram every few seconds.
the door never stops being knocked.
and you don’t stop trying to knock my legs apart.
i keep em closed.
and my mouth wide.
i am a fan of old school garage and walking past houses on the councillor’s estate playing T2 from an lg cookie.
my primary school crush wore adidas trackies.
i am a fan of dad pulling over on the a6 and jumping out of the car and dancing to scooter’s rework of logical song.
as a family we’ve always enjoyed chasing sunsets in a blue Peugeot 206 and
i’ve always enjoyed the thrill of leaving class at the same time as another boy just to kiss them in school toilets.
not much has changed.
not much at all.
except I’ve done my fair bit of racking up now
and there’s so many mistakes wriggling around underneath my nail beds.
i need a manicure.
god love me. wherever he is.
i suppose we have many dealers, you and i
you have your favourites
and i date them.
and then when it becomes clear my body’s just another reefer to them
i get a chill and go on home.
fix myself a peanut butter and jam potato cake,
y’all should try it. it’s good.
anyway like i said,
my heart is roadkill.
when you get to my age, you’re having societally expected fun.
and doing things you do in the prime of your millennial life.
but i honestly don’t think i was born in the right year.
i feel about a million years old.
it’s kinda sad that I’m dating boys your age
it’s kinda sad i’m here at all.

mdma in the library

i guessed half as much the night wouldn’t come to this
we bombed the pcs up
i am like the way your heart stops when you download a virus
onto your laptop
and i am like the fear of losing your words
i am mdma in the library
and coke lining your kitchen sink
and i am fucking the sun with my mouth
and begging for a sip
have you ever burned yourself like this?
and you were fucking my mouth
and not knowing who you were supposed to be
you hung your body up on a coat hanger
and wired yourself to my limbs
said to yourself to be someone else’s for a few hours
it was holding the moon between my teeth
and holding my tongue as you hold my hand
there is a shift
i guessed half as much the night wouldn’t come to this
i am like the way your heart stops when you lose your wallet
and i am like swallowing too much seawater
and throwing up at the feet of your mother
somewhere in majorca
and wishing you’d had a better day
i am mdma in the library
and coke lining your kitchen sink
i am the evidence that would wash away 
that would dissipate
but like air, you never forget to heave in  
i am the drowning
and i am never sorry of how i can pull you under
it is because i never once reciprocated.

i needed a break from all of that, y’see

your eyes confuse me because often,
you look angry.

i’ve always misinterpreted our 2am conversations, you give your miracles
but you’re no prophet, not to me.

i sit on your carpet,
you fall asleep in a hurting sun.

i am forever leaving at 6 am.
you, you’ve tied 3 am around your tongue,

and i,
well i needed a break from all of that, y’see

staring into you
whilst you analyse my little head

for all my flaws and mistakes,
they shed and peel, but i am probably the ghost that stands under your archway at night

i kick the leaves outside my home in manchester
i have been thinking about you

i don’t think this is going to work,

do you?

can u tell me where the train station is

it’s like five streets down,
heart full of worry, full of tomato juice
“it’s not my place to tell you when to fuck me”
and when we could’ve been together
i was on that train
and when we could’ve been together
u was on that white stuff

coked up
fuck up
drench aber in Jäger
drench fal in tequila
i tell em’ i’m on a million
takes a picture of me or somethin
jake’s on the wine like it’s heroin

man said that’s dirty
dad said he’s disappointed in me
i said i’m on a date this thurs
people not in my knickers
confessers, vicars, n dealers

i lived for it
and pal i lived FOR U
somehow made room for u in my tiny ribcage
brain’s makin me pay bedroom tax
for anyone renting out my chest
we ain’t working
this ain’t working

where u goin
takin doggy down roads
manchester’s like my older brother yanno
and syringes like this
they’re leaking piss
and i’m confused as to what i’m doing here
gives into the fear,

you said it’s clear
clear as mud
rehab is a must
what coulda
what shoulda
‘whatever’, says your mother
i told her

it was a waste of time
regardless she said she’d be fine
and she wired her way into the moon’s heart
its beating
take him for a severe kissing
they never knew i was probably on something

shit that’s never been heard before on at mono
tells him where to go and i know
that no one person has seen darkness like i have
to ur attention i grab
listening to this song makes me so sad
to the point of killing yourself on north pier
ur life is too dear

did you remember that mistake u made last summer?
try to remember.
ur face turns white
save it to your hard drive.
it’s like five streets down.
y’know, brain full of love
and the heart’s stuffed.

absolute mess

N.B. post-party depression. don’t do drugs kids. – lymh, 99 BC

you see,

it’s spun from your words,

sometimes i have found myself lost from your orbit
sometimes i have found myself inside your mouth

trying to taste my way back to the surface for air
some sort of gravity

to drag me here
my head hurts

you are like ingredients to me
and i am like a recipe for disaster

the burnt cake on your 20th
and the way my fingers run run run through your hair

liquidate the stars you animal


i’m so fucking high right now m8

i’m going to find you

at the top of the stairs somehow

ring on your finger
oceans begging you to drown yourself

no eggs left
i don’t know

where the fucking tea bags are
i don’t where your fucking car keys are

i asked you to drop your heart into my palm like a fat strawberry

and you said no no no no no non nonnononononononnonoonononononono

and i said yes yes yes yes ye sy esy ysyesy eysyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyyesyesyes

and then we squeezed sugar out of suns together

until sunrise,

messed about

big pill in my throat

N.B. a 16 year old girl is sad and tired outside tesco express in 2013

sometimes i drip big fat tears from my eyes.
to avoid them raining down my face
i knock my head down
so they fall hard and splash on my big black shoes.

u reckon that the big pill in my throat
when i see ur eyes shift like a laser
will cut me through me?
i will have to swallow u like a cloud otherwise.

i texted u the oceans.
my phone rang when i tried to disarm myself from the moon.
i was arrested
the police spat on me.

i took more drugs;
mum said she was proud of me.
u reckon i still look pretty in front of sunsets?
i’m addicted to the way i look when i swallow this big pill.

ur the big pill in my throat.
the pull of the wind
and the cracking of my capillaries
when they try to imitate a kind of dead life in me.

i slung the night over my back and went home, cos
my body’s tired and i don’t belong to u no more.

Lessons Learned #15

maybe someday he will turn to you after an argument
and call you a “guest”
after several years of loving each other

tell me
is he just home for the holidays when he is a few inches deep inside you?
does he pay rent to live in your heart too?

– the boy who was never really worth it 


Lessons Learned #11

there are some young and beautiful girls
who define beauty
on the basis of how able they are
to distract a man
from his wife
from his fiancée
from his girlfriend

but someday
they will not be able to accomplish this
and someday a young and beautiful girl
may distract
their husbands
their fiancés
their boyfriends

– the true design of ugly