Dead man.

A shit poem

Hey gang,

I’ve gotten really into writing shit poetry lately and I have kept a lot of them hidden. This substack really is the place for me to enjoy writing and play with writing.

I am sure you have noticed, it’s not funny pieces, if you want funny, check out my YT an instagram reels, this is just a place where i can dear diary shit and I won’t lie, I really like it. I really love writing. As long as it moves people, like as long as it moves me, I’m good!

My mum used to write poems and be so proud, and I’d roll my eyes like “this is sooo cheesy” and now I am sat here after watching one too many rom com movies, intercepted with news headlines, thinking about how many of us have quietly turned to stone. Like dead inside.

And how do we stay open in a world that feels so terrifying? And kinda needs us to remain so for our own survival. And how do we date? How do we stay open?

I got asked out recently, What?! I know! And looking back on my dating history and the plethora of lessons, the culmination of people, time, and memories and how as we get older, our priorities change.

Anyway, I like writing my shit poetry. So I’m sharing it. In case you like shit poetry too.

Dear Young Girl

Everyone wants the Hollywood romcom,

The romance, the drama, the chase, the make up, break up,

Just like in the movies

“i never treated you like a prostitute!”

“You just did”

But have you seen the story where You… are the one?

The one who loves so much,

Growing up in a house of grief

She can breathe life into a dead man.

But the dead vacuum souls.

Dismantling zest piece by piece

Through every insult, every argument, every lie,

to your face and by omission.

No No No, goes she. I have enough love for the both of us!

Pulling her hair out losing sleep as he peacefully gives her the silent treatment.

Home at last.

You can’t breathe life into a dead man.

You can only pretend for a short amount of time.

Lie with the dead and your world too shall end up grey.

But you should have seen him when he first saw me - MBOBHFT

Then just as your body falls to its knees, they cut you free.

What a hero. A knight in shining armour.

He’s a good man. Such a good, honest, fair man.

No Miss, he is a dead man.

You cling to the ghost who openly mocks your shadow “pathetic”

Pitifully, he throws you a bone, a tap drip of kindness in a barren well.

Be grateful. It’s more than enough. Don’t be so demanding.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Please. I’m so sorry. Thank you.”

It would be kinder to kick a dog.

Dead men steal decades from beautiful women.

Then point their skeletal finger and cry “thief”

The dead devour joy.

They like how the living ones light reflects onto them.

Even bugs are drawn to light.

I think a good rule of thumb is, If you start to second guess reality,

it’s time to say goodbye to the ghost. Goodbye Ghost. I want my light back.

Light can be dimmed.

But never destroyed. Crack the door, and the whole room will flood.

So get comfortable in the light.

Make friends with it.

Dismiss anyone who comes at you with curtains.

Bathe in it.

Go on holiday, go to work, go for a meal, go for a dance, go for a walk, drench yourself in it, to stay alive.

Otherwise you too, will slowly turn grey.

Cold. Sad. Dark.

Be careful. Don’t become a dead man.

Keep the heart open.

But this time, keep it safe.

Get comfortable with the discomfort of safety.

Get really comfortable feeling safe and regulated.

So comfortable, that if ever someone threatens it - you hear the alarm.

This time, don’t press snooze.

Don’t explain it away.

Wake up. Don’t empathise with the corpse.

This time, you will listen to her.

This time, you will listen to me.

This is your new home.

And that way, you can keep a heart open, but protected,

Beating, but held, looked after. Safe.

You are the one. You always have been.

Besides Safety is hot! Safety is Sexy!

Safety first.

Then it can be

Just like in the movies.

I’m a safety girl.