#spilled work

“Why should I settle for mediocre when I know I’m worthy of exceptional.”

- g.d. (settling)

“I told him I was too me to be a part of his world. He smiled and caressed my cheek, his lips hovering over mine as he whispered, “and that’s why I love you so much baby, you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.””

- g.d (love me for me)

Looking for all the right answers
in all the wrong places.
Looking to find myself
in everybody else’s faces.
Can’t keep praying
for what I swear I don’t need.
Can’t keep trying to understand
a book I won’t read.
I expect others to see value
in a place I never do.
I expect my plans to succeed
though I don’t think them through.
Obsessive.
Compulsive.
Right in all the wrong ways.
Seems like I’ll be stuck here choking on self-hatred
till somebody stays.

r.t.

‘I have tried my hardest today—

and perhaps my hardest is not my best,

but on that, what else can I say?’

'today, tomorrow,’ - Megan’s Poetry #

‘I was born into a thorn-bush;

now, as if I were the one to fall,

I must find the thorns lodged in my breast

and remove them, one and all.’

'the thorn-bush,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1278

‘strip the fruit, but do not tear the branches;

leave me my roots—

I will flower again.’

'in time,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1277

‘is love winged bliss, or steady ground?—

maybe not;

but, I know, it is not so

an unstable path as this.’

'falling,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1274

‘I am proud to have practiced loving;

I am proud to know you to your bones—

I am proud to know which tendons to pull

and which to leave alone.’

'to be known,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1273

‘the days uncoil;

strips of rain—

I will not shiver under this 'slaught again;

I will miss not the times, but Time—

that great beast— I have never trapped him;

still, I do not let him go with ease.

—what happens in the dryness?’

'the days of the desert,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1267

‘and I love the portrait

but never the man—

when away,

I keep it in my pocket,

cased in an ornate golden locket,

and look at it,

whenever I can;

when finally the journey is over

and no longer we are parted—

I remember how much I longed to leave,

that his presence leaves me broken-hearted.’

'the locket,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1266

‘you weigh yourself out in pieces—

tiny morsels, bites of nothing

that regardless make you bleed.

just when you’ve rationed enough to make the scales even

they change the recipe.’

'day to day,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1265

‘and I’d sever my right hand

to have you kiss the left—

I’d burn in flames

if I thought you’d love the ashes.’

'unloved,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1264

‘she wants

that which she does not show;

she has no desire for that

will merely melt the iceberg—

dive deeper, dive deeper, the depths

scream and cry;

but that is where her monsters are

so explorers should beware the bite.’

'true love,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1260

looking into a heart-shaped mirror,

seeing ringlets and lace and long long lashes, thinking.

thinking,I’m the prettiest doll

that I’m ever going to be.

my doll-house is where I keep my victories.

over-achiever, people-pleaser;

I spend all my time

before some kind of mirror –

it’s easier to believe you’re a pleasure to teach

when you’re a pleasure to see.

I wonder,

just how long

before my china shoulders shatter?

I won’t be fuckable forever.

what if I end up as a grave

that no stranger will never admire?

go at your own pace,

says the old woman

who lives in my head.

she rocks, on a rocking chair;

I rock with her, try and listen

when she says, calm down.

you have so many years ahead of you.

open my jewellery box. a thousand baubles

for a hundred achievements –

and which one of them is enough?

flowers blossom beautifully and die quickly:

maybe I’m done. maybe my season’s up.

choker of pearls. aren’t you a pretty girl?

I’m not so special as they said,

and my luck will not forever last –

I’ll fail, soon. and I’d rather be dead.

we are rocking, still. harder, now:

my nails bite into my calves.

my breathing is shallow, sharp:

a sad stream, shuddering through

a Winter wall of jagged rocks.

fall, my old woman suggests, voice soft

like a skipping stone. cry. I’ll catch you.

I don’t.

‘I wrote this instead,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1259

‘look, look: the hearth is warm;

the beds rest on clouds, your spirit on stars.

do you want the door to open? if so, then speak!

you are but one step away— you lock yourself behind bars.

are you not starving here? do you not weep?

take on the lion’s courage, and be brave:

conquer your fear of the door, my darling,

and you will be warm— you will be saved.’

'1 chronicles 17:25,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1258

‘I love like I eat:

in dainty bites— I’m all downturned desperate eyes,

never wanting the chef to know that I’m still hungry.’

'hunger,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1257

‘I know the fire burns,

but is it truly hot? Truly bright?

Is it doomed to fade, entirely unknown,

in a dark and uncaring night?

Will these flickers of potential

turn out to be nothing after all—

what if I am nothing noteworthy?

what if I cannot climb higher? Will only fall?’

'potential,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1256

‘light exists not in passivity;

light burns, and brightens, and purifies.

tame not the anger that rises from compassion;

never dull the shine of loving eyes.’

'isaiah 58,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1255

‘I do not deserve all your roughness

simply because I will not break;

my bleeding is not yours to give,

when it is mine to take.’

'gentle handling,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1254

‘He sees the world all filled with mirrors: he sees not others, but how he feels about others; he loves not me, but his love for me.’

'the self-centred man,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1253

“well now I understand, how a mother’s heart

can boil into such a brutal cold;

I have thawed my rage, as I am without command;

weak as I am, I fall before your demands. I am subjected; I am told.

Hades too shall have my babe, should

this predatory Winter’s swollen stomach grow –

I give you my ring in hopes that it birth

no more— that the frozen rivers will start to flow.

Fill our fields with cornucopias of corn,

bright and golden as that which I have bequeathed –

how we shall chant your praises, then!

You shall wear our bounty as a victor’s wreath.

I fear for my love. I do not cry, nor rest, just rage;

believe truly, goddess, that I understand your pain –

for, if it were I that could grip the Sun, I would care

for no burned fingers:

I would starve you all— you too, fellow mother—

and starve you still again.”

‘a mother’s offering, designed to move demeter,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1252

‘my misery has too much depth to it,

and my words too much lightness—

I wonder if I can survive

another day of speaking in white horses.’

'speaking in white horses,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1251

‘and I know

that if I knew me

I’d know, she’s a desperate thing, by now—

I wish

that someone gave to me

the kind of love that looks.’

'I give it to everyone else,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1250

‘my mind paints its strokes in the brightest of colours,

but my hands can only manage grey;

so I turn to the night, which is all black and white,

understanding that I would only do terrible injustice to the day.’

'sad songs,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1249

“she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I LOVE YOU, OKAY?!” she screamed.

“is that what you want to hear?” all of the pent up frustration, anguish, and emotions that had been building those past months suddenly burst out, pouring out of her until there was nothing left, and suddenly, it was calm again.

“i love you. i do. and you broke my fucking heart, but i still love you. i can’t stop. i don’t… i don’t know how to stop.” her words, quiet now, escaped into the air like a ghost.”

-i don’t even know if i want to stop. c.r.

*This is a sequel to Cursed Winter Love. Please read that first*

Years later I met another girl.

She was even more beautiful.

When we first met our conversation went something like this:

“Hey”

“Hey. What is a cute girl like you talking to someone like me?”

“I’ve seen you around work lately…”

“And?”

“I wanna be your girlfriend”

I had a crush on her for a while so I answered this:

“Of course you can, cutie”

5 years later…

She was pregnant.

Since we were going to have a child together…

I thought it would make sense if I proposed.

“Dear cutie, will you marry me?”

“Only if you catch me a snowflake”

Why?

WHY?

Why did she ask the same thing?

I went to the same forest.

The same people kept telling me not to go there.

I ignored them again.

The last girl died from a seizure when I gave her the snowflake.

When I grabbed the snowflake…

And I gave it to her…

My child who was in the womb was acting strange…

That’s when I noticed the snowflake was a bit…reddish.

When she put the snowflake against herself for our son to feel…

The doctor said he died.

That’s when I realized the snowflakes I had been catching were…

The Great Cursed Deadly Snowflakes.

Instagram: mister_kitty_freedom

I once met this girl.

She was the most beautiful girl I had seen.

I got to know her.

6 years later I asked her to be my girlfriend.

I mean, after all, I had to ask her at some point.

She said yes.

I was so happy.

2 years later I proposed.

I really wanted to marry her.

She said “I’ll marry you if you catch me a snowflake.”

I didn’t know what to do.

I went to this forest where it snowed all the time.

People kept telling me not to go there.

I ignored them.

I really wanted to marry this girl.

When I got there…

Snowflakes started to fall.

It was midnight.

I managed to catch one.

At the moment I gave it to her…

The second I grabbed it…

She died.

Instagram: mister_kitty_freedom

I wish I wasn’t bullied.

I wish I knew how to defend myself.

I wish my crush would notice me.

I wish I was rich.

I wish for everybody’s dreams to come true.

I wish I still had my father.

I wish I wasn’t child abused.

But even if I could make these wishes come true, I wouldn’t.

Because I can’t escape life.

And more evil would be after me.

So I’m fine where I am.

Instagram: mister_kitty_freedom

“My life is like a…a…labyrinth!” I shouldn’t have said that…

Every time I try to hang out with my friends, they don’t have time.

Every time I want to buy something, I either don’t have the time or money.

I fail at everything I do.

I’m lost in the labyrinth.

A dead end.

I constantly find dead ends.

“Where’s the exit?!” I ask myself.

I need to leave.

I’m hungry.

There’s no food here.

I’m sleepy.

There are monsters everywhere.

“I can’t sleep with all these monsters” I thought.

Then I remembered…

Why did the king put me in this labyrinth.

Because I tried to give his daughter epilepsy with my magic.

There’s no escape from the labyrinth.

That is why it is so famous.

I’m gonna die here.

I may have wings…

But without my energy…

I can’t fly.

There’s also a spell that won’t let me leave.

They are probably going to erase my memories again anyways.

Instagram: mister_kitty_freedom