Liam Left Alone

This covers a lot of topics which might be close to home to people and slightly graphic... (if its offensive its James' fault he told me to put it up here)

He found there where many ways to destroy himself in that foreign house. Everyone was out so what would it matter and sure his girlfriend later would cry again if he left a mark but she was working so scarless methods are available. With in a 6 hour shift, he could have bought more alcohol than any normal person could handle and down it and lie and let the world spin round him for a while. Take every pill labelled or not in that tempted plastic box in the cabinet in the bathroom.

He lead in her bed paralyzes by the fears of what he could do if he moved from that spot. He thought of how well his and her body fit together as though they where perfect although he wanted it all to change. He tried to talk to her many times about becoming who he felt he was becoming Liam once and for all rather than just pretending from time to time while outside away from people they knew but he was met with the brutal response of “I AM ONLY ATTRACTED TO WOMEN STOP IT! I love you but I can't love you if your like that”.

Liam tossed over onto his side and curled up and tugged at his long brown hair grew far beyond his breasts.

He kept two razor blades in the back of his phone just in case, sometimes it was enough to just place the metal strips on his thighs and imagine what he could do but some times it wasn't enough. As his neck began to throb from being placed in an awkward position he dragged him self up reached for his phone. After glancing at the lack of messages he went to the mirror and lifted up his shirt and stumbled as his fingers fidgeted with the small pressure pad at the back of the phone. He noticed how silent it had been previous to the two blades jingling as they fell to the floor and instantly put on Boys Don't Cry by the cure setting it to repeat.

He looked into the mirror and saw everything that was wrong with his shape. The hips, the breasts, the lack of muscle growing around his stomach no matter how much weight he tried to put on at best when he tensed his he felt them under a layer of fat that would not leave. Reaching for the blades his hand steadied. “at least it heals quickly there” he whispered.

As quick as a flash the blade slid across the lower half of his breast. “NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” he screamed as he watched the shadow fill up with blood and over flow. He repeated the previous gesture again and again until he could see no uncut tissue remaining on that side that could not be covered by his bra. He noticed the blood trickle down his tummy and so he shimmied his jeans and boxers down to avoid any blood stains. The situation became slightly more real.

He quickly walked to the toilet grabbing a roll of toilet paper and returning to the mirror. He mopped up the blood whimpering “stupid girl”.

The bleeding subsided and he felt brave enough to pull the soaked paper away to see the damage noticing his hair had blood on it. Possibly not his smartest move he grabbed it and cut it off with the blade leaving an average of two inches in length of hair. He shook as he noticed the length to which he had gone but it was calming to see it gone and lying on the floor around him.

Some how it was 16:47 and there where only 4 hours until She should be back. He looked around for scissors to neaten of what he had started until he felt he looked more like himself rather than like her. He looked at the mess he had made and rushed around cleaning it up as quickly as he could then returning to the mirror and sighed as despite his efforts he still wasn't there yet. He routed through his bag for a darker bra and placed it over the cuts hiding them perfectly.

Liam continued to dress before running his fingers through his hair realizing Beth would want some fun later and how could he explain it. He could always just pull the period card it usually worked.

He went downstairs to wonder through the kitchen for a while and try and find food. In the end he warmed up a couple of pasties some onion rings and two chicken keives in the oven and swallowed them down quickly. He noticed how the calm aura he had built before had left. He had far to much fat already because that's what female bodies have fat around the hips and on the thighs and on the chest. He grabbed a glass of water gulping it down with out taking a breath in the hope that he would feel nausius and it worked. He ran to the bathroom but nothing so Liam began to force his fingers further and further down his thought until he would cough up mucus but still no food. Eventually he tried stretching his fingers out down the back of his throught and all of a sudden food irrupted from his mouth it tasted rather fresh as though it was just cooked and still warm from his insides. He kept going until nothing more would leave him. There was a thrill in it all. Light headed Liam pulled him self up and flushed the toilet cleaned his fingers and teeth.

He returned to his loves bed, his eyes leaked but he ignored it.

Liam rightly supposed he was safe now and it disappointed him. He lead on the bed for a few more minuets before working out a plan and plucking up the courage to execute it. He grabbed the spare keys after throwing his bag over his shoulder. Walked to the first store and bought the bottle that would be his salvation. Then continued walking into town and in every next shop buying a box of paracetamol though in two ibuprofen where the best that he could do then returned with an hour or so remaining. First packet was empty rather quickly with no aid but the further he got through the boxes the more vodka each pill took to wash down. Feeling sick and light headed he crawled to the bathroom banging his head and occasionally vomiting until he fell unconscious.   

Doodles

Fragments of a tormented soul

00.58 am. Can't sleep. Again. I just lay here awake thinking of the things i might say to you. Nothing comes to mind. Do you want to know why? Because to me you are nothing. Yet still, here i am, writing about you. I have no reason to. You destroy my mental health, while also teaching me to destroy it myself. You put me through the most pain i've ever been through. You're selfish, ignorant, completely obvlivious of the pain you're causing people. So explain this to me; if i hate you, why am i writing this?

I'm bleeding. Inside, not outside. Don't worry. This is more than i can take. I told you what it was like, the nail varnish remover next to my bed, tempting me with the words "solvent abuse can kill instantly". I won't do it. It'd hurt you too much, but you still had the balls to do that to me? You're sick. You have people to think about, so think. Your arms and thighs are covered in white scars from war wounds. I understand that. The worst war to fight is the one against yourself. I know. But you have the best army. Friends and a family and a boyfriend.

You lost the war. You held up a little white flag but you showed no mercy. You dragged us all down with you. Yet here i am. Still caring. Still crying.

Just tell me what to do.

In The Arms Of The Sun

In the arms of the sun
Where warmth abides
Where necessity resides
Where set afire
Are the heartfelt lies
And either broken or joined
Those once-upon-a-time tries.

Like fiery lava it burns
Smothers and churns
Combusting all a child learns
And moulding it's life's twists and turns.

In the arms of the sun
Where one does belong
Where one feels strong.
In the arms of the sun
Where one is able to sing that beautiful song
For a period of time that is long
Long
Long
But never, never, prolonged.

The Land Of The Up-Theres

"The secret history of the world is a rude gesture in the face of the know-it-alls who make up our intellectual elite, the control freaks who would decide what is acceptable for us all to think and believe "  
      -Preface of The Secret History of The World by Jonathan Black

I ponder about the land of the up

While playing with my coffee cup,

All those doctors and nurses

So far up their own asses,

Even the check out staff think I’m inferior

because of my shy and quiet exterior.

They might ask me what I do

I say “Physics and maths too”

And all of a sudden they turn I am one of them now

“Oh well you must be smart, Wow!”

How do those subjects make me intelligent?

What makes them think I care for their acknowledgement

They look down because we are not they

But I would rather be seen as someone with nothing to say

Or at least nothing worth while hearing

Than be someone who’s vision is disappearing

Blind to what is before them

So worthy or not they condemn

Or worse ignore what they don’t want to believe.

I can’t work out if they’re ignorant or naive,

Maybe it’s my fault for looking in the undergrowth,

Seeing the darker places causes a deep loath.  

For those who would consider equality immoral

and that capitalism causes less quarrel,

Well I very much agree

The down-theres can’t afford the key

While the up-theres swagger around

and the think-they’re-up-theres continue to astound

They think they are so amazing

Getting payed for patronizing

I suppose I don’t see what makes them tick

How can they act like that and not make them self sick?

I wonder if I am alone in thinking this...

I guess I should shut up and go back to staring into the abyss.

First 50 words

At first there were a fair few writers. Every wednesday, room 125 was full of amazing creative talent but then as the weeks went by, they started to be picked off, one by one. By the end of the year, only four loyal members were left. James. Lucy. Mich. Becky.

It feels like the clouds are returning day by day

and it seems poems are the only way I can portray

the aching and throbbing inside my head,

so why should I care what has been said?

Sure, I am selfish I am glad you realized,

about time someone else critizised

the way I have been behaving as of late

staring into space as I sit and wait.  

"Wait for what?" you might question

Well a way to deal with things apart from suppression.

I am pretty miserable when I am sat alone

and it doen’t get much better when I randomly roam

but at least people think it made it better

though in reality it just made me more bitter.

Where ever I look sadness lies

but people still emphasis:

“STOP BEING SO MISSERABLE”

They forget I am not adaptable

So I grit my teeth and punch a wall

Hoping it might make the bad thoughts stall

Then hide away from everyone numb

Popping away with my chewing gum.

For my favourite planet, I bring a box of stars.
A thank you, a blessing, for being what you are.
I suppose this means I am no longer a resident
And so I must leave you with this mere present.

And as I fly further from your reach,
Hopefully Sharples will still teach.
And if not, I swear
I'll drag her right back there
Because what is a class or planet
So contrary
Without their Queen and mother,
Mary?