moon-face-prince

[moon-face-prince]

I used to be afraid of spiders Just like my sister I'd run into the nearest room or sleep beside my mother or crawl into a dog bed I didn't know why I was afraid but the thought of them made me feel numb I used to be afraid of them crawling over my body Making their way across my skin But I lie in the grass today and watch them dance and watch them spin Twisting my leg hairs till my frame is their playground Eight legged creatures laughing wickedly I cannot believe they are even real They are alive And it's not that I don't want them to be It's just that I don't understand how some are so filled with life And the small bodies I found Were not

[moon-face-prince]

5am

There’s this tear drop on my arm Though I hadn’t felt it fall from my eye to rest just there, between the soft of the hairs, laid against my skin, and the darkness of my room But I see it now, The light of my phone catches it Just right And I’m reminded how the night is echoed with light Breathing light, throughout the town, The very same that illuminates my arm whispers through the slumber of the houses neatly leant together Above the cliffs

Little roofed houses filled from edge to edge with tear drops just like this one And iced with light The emotionless kind Glistening white Against the hard concrete laid on her back And the darkness Of the early morning sky

[moon-face-prince]

I want to sit in the space of inbetween in neither sun nor shade Far from the noise of the city And the light of the my bedroom lamp I have grown to despise. I want to be surrounded by loud silence hear bass guitar, soft voices, pen scratching paper Till the skies roll over to show the cloudy underbelly Till the ink runs a little quiet round the edges and I can finally say The light is fading the rain is soft Falling and soft And, today, so am I i want to be in the in between No longer touching earth Not quite reaching sky

[moon-face-prince]

Today. 20th of August, 2017.

I am unbelievably, excruciatingly miserable today. I feel all the essence of my self has come undone like yarn pulled off the knitting needle and no matter what attempts are to be made, I shall never be quite the same again. Never as held together at least. 

What a shambles the whole fucking year has been since last summer. Adventure was lost long ago, left on the table seat of a train somewhere, like all the books I began and never finished.

My desire for the future has warped from a dreamy comfort to a terrifying on pour of anxiety and endless lists- angry faces sketched across the whole damn thing.

The love I once knew, creativity herself, is now a stranger to me. She no longer will hold me close when the rest of the world is falling apart- she laughs at my inability to put pencil to paper and my failings to create myself a new reality. She does not seem to care we have grown distant. Once, she was my only solace. Now, even she does not care to let me in the door. And, I find myself asking myself too often, who am I without her?

The events of this year have been a nightmare brought to life. There is no hint of exaggeration in my words. I lost so much and have found nothing that has filled that empty space.

I lost the words my best friend gave me. I no longer will be able to hear her voice down the phone or read her words over and over. I miss her more and more in each passing hour and feel like the comfort she gave me has never been more needed than now. I know she still lives on this earth and her heart is the same. But to know I will never hear her voice again leaves me angry at all the voices around me that can speak. Her voice, her laugh, her joy only brought me peace. The voices that now surround me too often bring me pain.

I lost the control I had on my mind, lost the ability to shut off intrusive thoughts, to scream back at the internal monologue that continues to sabotage. I lost what felt like my dignity- legs up in the air as a stranger rooted about my insides at countless doctors appointments and lost my innocence as I dealt with a potential reality no child should have to unwillingly face. 

I lost my curiosity. I am yet to finish a book for me. I am yet to feel the passion that once burned through my veins- I have not felt excitement in months. I have misplaced my hunger for stories, for slickly layered sentences and spells cast by poets.

I truly feel like there has been a burglary. Overnight, without a sound, they crept in and took everything I had. They cleared out every draw and took every valuable item I loved. God, they even took my childhood. They left me with nothing other than empty, other than lost, other than a few picture-less frames. I used to be stuffed to the brim. Ask me about myself and I would run my fingers along my bookshelves and pick out a story, rummage through my draws to find a painting, a poem. I could show you a smiling photograph without crying about the unreachable past. 

I have tried desperately to fill myself up again. I have bought myself cheap furniture for my insides, tried to cover up the marks of the breaking and entering by painting over the broken bits. I have done a poor job of recovering myself.

But time is moving too fast. Too fast for me to carefully reconstruct myself, too fast for me to thoughtfully pick out my new interior. I’m cold and practical now- or at least trying to be. Coloured walls, funny books and happy memories suddenly have no place here anymore and I am trying to figure out where I went wrong. Did I not lock the door properly? Everyone else seems pretty good at keeping themselves protected. Did I do this myself? I can’t even remember them arriving, let alone taking so much of me. 

I’ve lost something or maybe something has been stolen. Either way, it feels like the world is not giving me a chance to go looking for it again. The world does not care. The world tells me get on with it. You are still standing, they didn’t take the house too. Just the insides. They rummaged around and took all that they could but you are still here. I try to listen as best I can. Try to believe. 

But I stopped reading stories a long time ago. 

[moon-face-prince]

Her laugh sounds like springs Not spring, the season Not springs, the body of water Springs The twisted up kind Uncoiling from her mouth with a bounce She giggles and I feel it in my fingertips Like the sound, escaping from her Travels all the way through my body She promises me we will travel all the way through existence together Fingertips drumming on the steering wheel We shall exist together So every town we drive through Every room we bounce into Shall be my favourite place on planet earth Everywhere is an adventure Every drive an escape

[moon-face-prince]

Heartbreak

The night after I hear my mother crying in her room Her cries so painful they make me buckle over in horror I hear the door to my fathers room open at midnight and know too well The tears that pool between them Fill every room in the house The morning after I wake to my sister at the foot of my bed Staring blankly at the wall, she cannot bring herself to move, so instead I whisper a question and ask how she slept She tells me the nightmares were terrifying, I wonder if she too wept I wonder if she means means reality or slumber I say nothing, lips tight Just wonder If I will ever recognise my family again If their faces will ever reflect who they were the morning before The morning before the suffering The morning before the walls in our house came crashing down I wonder if we are fixable If happiness will ever flood this home If the holes will continue to crack Heartbreak broke more than hearts I wonder if I'll ever have them back

[moon-face-prince]

The Sixteenth

Days after, the sprout is still there. It hasn’t grown, hasn’t changed. It is still there, small and mighty, even though I know it shouldn’t be. It is still there although I know it has little time left, that soon it will be gone forever. If we go through with this, it will never grow back. I will water it with my tears when it is no longer even there.

I tell myself I can write to you but cannot send the letters. I can love you but cannot see you. I can hurt myself, but I cannot keep hurting you. 

There have been so many moments, sat upright with cool air, when things have felt right. Those moments have only been when I have forgotten myself, forgotten the gravity of my world crashing around me and instead just let the breeze wash over me until I feel clean. It is almost as if I am washing my hands before torturing myself, so as not to infect my body when the wounds are inflicted. 

First, I imagine your soft lips. Second, your back. Third, your neck. Fourth, your hands- and suddenly I imagine them skipping over the naked skin of a body that does not even resemble mine. I taste sick on my lips, feel the cold breeze a little too icy up my back, up my neck and find my self holding my own hand like I’m saying goodbye.

Food has become bland. Favourite flavours turn my mouth dry and leave my stomach both bloated and empty. 

I realise the only taste I want is the only taste I cannot allow myself to have.

The touch of others- the caring hand on the shoulder, the hug from the mothers, the painful embrace from friends I barely know. 

All feel like earthquakes that shake my burning house. 

I am afraid it will fall down soon. I do not know what shall take it first. The angry shakes of my world changing or the burning left from the fire I keep starting and forget to properly put out. 

 I realise, if I go, I want to be burning with you. But I do not want to crumble today. Not tomorrow either. 

I do not want to say goodbye. I want to be saying hello to you, every single morning.

[moon-face-prince]

Hold her with the same hands you held dirt with The same hands you soaked in muddy puddles And used to make mud pies for your mother

Hold her hand with the same floppy wrist used for scribbling Palms that instinctively beg to hold art Hold her body with the grip of handlebars Or better yet, the impossible untouchable light in the dark

Unbathed, hold her in grit with oil splashed up your arms And sand between your teeth Hold her like she’s the only thing you’ve ever touched that is clean And let her hold you

For all the mess you have made The impossible, wonderful dirty love you gave

[moon-face-prince]

I know. You live beyond my words. And as much as I love writing you into a mystery You’re simple Like cocopops And weird Like eating cocopops with a teaspoon.

I fashion my letters to build you into a dream Use the sharpest of them to carve you into the great love of my life And I’m certain you could be But today you are just my love to me Living and breathing miles away Simple Like toast every day But slightly difficult sometimes Like needing vegan butter

I write you like you’re patient I write you like I’m sure of your love Every time I slip into sleep I write you like you know exactly what to say Like you speak poetry down the phone on our calls each week Like you only use your voice for comforting and for song I write you wrong I write what I see when slumber soaks through my teeth I write a fantasy I write simple dreams When simple is the last word this has been Try chaotic Try thunderstorm rumbling, try cliff edge crumbling Try laughter so loud you can hardly hear the crying Try smiles so wide Disaster falls into our lips until we throw it all up again Try sleepy days of happy silence And nights of silence so loud it screams I don’t know who you are anymore I’ve been living a dream

[moon-face-prince]

Don’t let me turn the handle Please don’t let me leave Call me to bed love Grab onto my sleeve

Don’t let me go Don’t let me walk away Tug on my shirt love Beg me to stay

Don’t let the silence speak for you Use your voice and let it break Tell me you want me love For my shaking body’s sake

Don’t leave me here in the dark Let us not keep things unsaid Let me live quietly love In your sheets and your head

Hold me and cry dear And never forget The promises we made love Promises unkept

[moon-face-prince]

white

I imagine flying must feel an awful lot like lying naked in your bed on fresh cotton sheets

I can barely even tell where nose touches pillow and mattress touches feet

The double bed feels endless

Like an open sea, 

infinite blue sky 

or a London Underground crowd

My hands are wrapped around your hair like touching wisps of clouds

We softly shatter atmospheres, gentle collisions on your bunk bed frame

Earth is far below us , and all that echoes here is your name

Escaping from my lips, we land amongst the stars

Our bodies two shuttle ships erupting inches apart

shit

this view is pretty,

planets turn to marbles, earth turns to dust, the darkness looks so bright

the air is getting thin but

before the end, 

before we fizzle out

We burn electric white

[moon-face-prince]

The dress I wore still smells like your house I’m in my own bed now But I’m not home I imagine waking up in this bed tomorrow Knowing too well I’ll be alone

I wish I could watch us both fall asleep in each other’s arms, an indie film scene between your sheets I’d watch it on repeat for days if I could But in reality I need my sleep

Because in darkness without you, with my eyes shut against the world I can lay in our universe made for two I can imagine our mornings waking up with pancakes And evenings of Gambino and you

A private brain cinema playing only yellow days, afternoons spent in golden sun and your arms Hours in our kitchen with kisses and burning toast and the angelic laughter of smoke alarms

[moon-face-prince]

Come lay with me Press your nose to the back of my head Do not ask questions to the silence Simply hold me instead

Do not try tell me my body is clean Only run your fingers through the dirt Do not talk of beauty All I ask is, Let me hurt

[moon-face-prince]

You smelt like fresh paint And wore stripes like you were notebook paper You were bound like a hardback And I didn't feel the need to wipe my hands when I touched your chest We painted it all Eggshell white And the windows were kept open And the city was breathing below

[moon-face-prince]

the home has a roof,

which is just about all we need

 the kitchen has the yellow kettle we always talked about getting

the kettle we reminded ourselves everyday

would pour us hot water every morning

some day

one day

and it’s right there, spitting a little next to the red toaster you promised you would use when things got tough

and although it’s silly, i hung up net curtains to make things look prettier when the sun comes in just right

to make funny shadows at night

just to scare us enough that we have to sleep closer together to feel safe enough to sleep at all

the house is periwinkle blue

and it has a door

which is important for all the important things you will do 

like coming inside and sending post and banging fists

and leaving 

[moon-face-prince]

the last day is always the worst

every word we utter sounds like goodbye

and every time you kiss the back of my hand

you leave i miss yous’ trailed across my skin

we say very little

because we don’t want to start anything time will not allow us to finish

and we hold each other a little too tight for comfort

just so that when we let go, our wrinkled shirts remain dented in the shape of our embrace

i stop and tie my laces four times in a minute on the way to the station

pray to god the train doesn’t feel like coming today

and stare at the back of your head like i’m remembering a pin number 

i’ll need to remember this forever

[moon-face-prince]

i do not know what is good for me 

but today i decided i want to cut my hair again

i think

i thought it would be a good idea because it’s what they do in films whenever someone is hanging by their last thread

and i have been swinging here for a quite a while now

so i am ready to cut it

and i figure hair is less painful

hair is already dead

to watch it fall to the ground like many many threads

will remind me that just because something has been growing

growing well

going well

doesn’t mean it won’t have set backs

doesn’t mean there won’t be days of undo-able damage

but hair grows back most the time

it probably will be fine

and if it’s not

i’ll wear a hat