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?
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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.

Petrarchan Sonnet
October 3, 2012

my heart

my heart, to you, is a throw away thing
it’s a cheap plastic lighter
running out of gas.
the more i burn
the less i am.
and i cannot do, but yearn
and scream,
“just stop.”

my heart, to you, is a throw away thing.
wasting like the core of finished fruit
faded from your eye.
those lashes flicker away from me now,
and gaze
the other way.

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.
 

Lying
May 3, 2012

by Elexa Rose

what did you do with him today
what did you give him
can it be that you
saw him like the others
walls watch you
from all four sides
pale beige walls
painted and peeling
like burnt skin

roll up roll up
its a mystery here today
rolled up the grass
within soft blades
looking up and watching
cupping your curves
round your bones
supple under your weight
comforting in your aid

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.

You
April 16, 2012

by Elexa Rose
 
Oh you, oh you,
the way you crack
your fingers backwards.
Too thick glasses,
too big for your face.
I am the one from a far
that has become
that quick little thumb rub
on the corner of your eye
when the day gets late.
Every short grumble or
chuckle rings clear
in between my ears.
My eyes, my skin, my head
is all drawn to your constant
pushing up of shirt sleeves
just because you can’t sit still.
I cannot help but watch,
other sounds dissolve when
my head runs over what I hope,
what I have to keep hope in.
Every day I bring the only thing.
And every day I resent
the moment you will walk home
again.