You Win
November 18, 2012

It’s not just the fairy-tales that are fakes.

It’s the T.V. shows too, and the adverts

In between. The newspaper headlines,

The stories are just stories.

Songs about ‘real-life’ are there

For distraction purposes only.

The bus timetable is a lie.

The lecturers promote a false ideology.

The lie after lie after lie that you spout

Has infected everything else.

The only thing honest is the laughter

You try to stifle as you pull the rope

Tighter. You love the short shallow breaths.

The eyes rich with adrenaline.

Groping and choking, this is just a game.

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Running
November 14, 2012

I want to run through life, run to the places
That books are made of. Where life
Is lived. Where colours are painted
In new shapes and sizes round every block.
 
I want to run through life, talk to strange faces
And drink with the locals. I will drive cars
I can’t afford to buy – yet – and maybe
They’ll print my name where you can see.
 
I want to run through life, I can’t wait
Any longer. These hills look taller when
You’re standing right on top.
So will you run with me, or just sit down in the dirt?
 
 
I’ve been told that to inspire a more ‘communative blog’ or whatever that means, the blogger should ask a question to readers about a particular topic. So I’ll give it a go.
 
Is there anything you feel you can’t achieve because of circumstances holding you down?

three cheers
November 7, 2012

by Elexa Rose

 

three cheers for the individual
that spray painted giant genitalia
on the side of the bus shelter
that i stand underneath every single day.
never before have i seen a pair of bollocks
not only large than my head
but also at the same height.
i can peek through their outline
like a porthole
or a frame for the rest of the world.

three cheers for the individual
that smoked a blunt behind the lecture block.
that small space near the bins
that i use as a short-cut to keep on time.
now everyone can do the same.
i couldn’t have hoped to spread the word
more thoroughly.

and three cheers for the kid who first yelled
FUCK IT.
and we did.
because without that kid i guess i would care more
about every ball sack i see
and every red-eyed stoner
and every walk of shame through the corridor.
fuck it, none of us care any more.

Mermaid
June 13, 2012

by Elexa Rose
 
I hold my breath
And I can lower myself
Under the water.
 
I can swim
Or rather I can’t but
I can look like I am.
 
It feels like it should
And I’m like everybody else
But better.
 
No one can see I’m faking it
Because no can see
Under here.
 
Smooth lines are distorted
It’s all out of focus
Under here.
 
And the water is a little warm
So that against my skin
I can barely feel it.
 
I can move
With slow resistance
With little thought.
 
But my lungs strain
I can’t hold it
For long.
 
And bursting through
The surface breaks
Thunder bangs on my ears.
 
I gasp at air
For a moment
Until I can go back down.

Trash
May 25, 2012

by Elexa Rose
 
I don’t want to breathe
unless I’m
breathing in sickly sweet.
I will unwrap and suck and swallow.
I watch lights
in shapes of people,
they speak but
I don’t care.
My body
doesn’t want to move.
Why should it?
It sticks out where it should
slope inwards.
I wish my
eyes had that look,
that look that catches.
 
Trash
it spills over and
up the walls and
over my toes.
It runs.
 
Please don’t look at me
unless you really
want
something.
I’ll let you hold my
hands
and we’ll watch trash and
listen to trash
talk trash
smoke trash.
Intricate symbols
and electrical impulses
in our heads
let us feel
beautiful.
 

hunting for angels
May 3, 2012

by Elexa Rose

sip
if i wanted to
sip our drinks
glass lips
we reinterprate
whisps of words
we sink drowsily
slipping
groom long dark ideas
in liquids
that sit on with
us like sin
groping outward claws
pad at thin air
like hunting
for angels

Golden Syrup
May 3, 2012

by Elexa Rose

my chest is lined with golden syrup
turned pink by the touch of my blood
i breathe in hard
the walls of my lungs
stick together
wrapped around my heart and
the veins going in and going out
it's solidifying
grabbing
a rich golden fist
it trickles out of my ears and nose
clogs my tear ducts
there are lumps in my throat
you can feel them if you press
on my neck
my sweat gets stuck
my voice is a thin husk
as i heave and swell
and burst slowly
still slowing.

Cityscape
April 19, 2012

by Elexa Rose

men chasing men
like stags
dripping out
of water logged rooms
that smell like
stale whatifnots.
and very young girls
tearing up paper,
small receipts
they drop
and stuff
and clogg the drains up.
i am walking.
past: hopefully through
these mellow townspeople.
i do not wish
to touch their ink
or stain
my pale
wasting cheeks
with cheap red lipstick
kisses.
i watch them
without looking at them,
eyes straight,
view curved and bent.
my footsteps mimic
the haste in my
heart, without will
i slow it with dark
smoke: my lungs.
i cough, and they notice me.

Cliff Top
March 5, 2012

by Elexa Rose
 
Maybe it’s the black of her eyes.
Or maybe her eyes aren’t black at all.
Maybe they are too large and
they look too innocent.
Maybe they hide secrets.
 
Maybe it’s how small life seems
When I’m lying in half-sleep
Pretending to count sheep.
Maybe I’m not pretending.
Maybe my head isn’t ticking.
 
Maybe I can hear doors slamming.
Maybe I want to hear doors slamming.
Maybe my ears hear and
Perhaps my head does not.
Maybe I hear chairs shunting.
 
It is a possibility and for that we clock in
And clock out again at the end
Of a long hard day.
Maybe it wasn’t a long day.
And maybe it was too easy.

x = z2y
February 23, 2012

by Elexa Rose
 
x
the helpless.
 
y
the unhelpful.
 
z
screaming for help.
 
xy
no z can mean
they’re alright,
I guess.
 
xz
there’s only one
difference, but
it’s just not right,
it feels helpless.
 
xyz
you mean everything
to me.
 
x
just leave now,
but why?
=2y