loop

these are the doubtful days
the self-critical days
the days where all is looked at
through magnifying lenses
and found wanting
where every word and action
is analysed and over-analysed
and I’m so busy analysing
that more words and actions
slip out of me unbidden
snippy, snappy, grumpy-face
and the loop repeats

and still you say you love me

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clipped

wings clipped
by aches and pains
weighed down
by crazy hormones
so tired, so weary
I cannot fly
I cannot soar
I cannot feel the joy
of every bit of life
so I just sit
and lie down
and sigh
and try not to sink

normal

normal service is resumed
it can safely be assumed
that I am tired
feeling weary
chasing words
and catching none
duvet-dreaming
hormone’s screaming
and no more birthdays mentioned here

fluck-tuating

I do not want
to be this person
this drooping
moaning, groaning person
who stares into space
and writes sad poems
while waiting
e n d l e s s l y
for levels
of chemical signals
to stop fluck-tuating
so flucking wildly
and let me grow old
in peace

husk

and these tired eyes
stare blankly at the screen
willing words of beauty
to emerge
but only tumbling thoughts
and fumbling weary weight
as fingers slip and slide
‘cross keyboard
and I wonder
is anything left
of me
when all are done
and had their part
or just this husk
drawn to dust
and fading
into
silence

enough

not good enough
not fun enough
not good enough
not brave enough
not good enough
not sexy enough
not good enough
too shy
too blue
too much
too many
it rants and rants
around my brain
you ask am I ok
and my answer
only tears
no words
illogical
irrational
and oh so tired
so very tired
why must I
spin in circles
when my gravity
is here?

polite thoughts on being a woman

sometimes it’s hard to be a woman
not because of the
giving-all-your-love-to-just-one-man
thing
no, cos that’s easy
all my love is yours
and yours alone
but sometimes
being a woman
is just a big pile of doo-doo
(to put it politely)
and without going into detail
lest I risk the dreaded TMI

it sucks

 

irritable

grumpy grumpy grumpy
cross
sweary sweary sweary
fuck

pointlessly
uselessly
futilely
irritably
angry with
the world
for
no
good
reason

if you value your head
stay away
lest I bite it clean off

another week

sweet respite
of weekend 
     over

day took me
   eyes shrivelled
   lids drooping
       head tight
       drained of life
            sofa-sat-staring
                               again

the week 
      s t r e t c h e s 
                         l---o---n---g
                                                  ahead

                   early 
              mornings
         responsibilities
     worries and stresses
mounting up, piled on high

and my wish
     is simply
to rest
     in your arms
close my eyes
     do not think
     worry not
     and be free

tired again

my eyes are sinking in my head
I feel them shrivel dry
to keep them open is a chore
to focus is too tiresome
eyelids crying out for sleep
and every limb, so heavy
dreams of soft sheets
deep pillowed hills
warm duvet’s chaste embrace
yet onwards I must move
as mother, partner, worker bee
and stay above the surface
else the darkness drag me down