Tag: #spokenword

cycling down a road like the dream where i find another room in my house / moist stroll, jelly tower shuffle, cheesing postbox, very cruel

i used to always have this dream where i found another room in my flat. ‘all my problems are solved,’ i’d think to myself. how did neither i nor the previous owner or like the builder or the estate agent notice? but i haven’t had that dream in a while. life changed i guess. i got a bit smaller. need less space.

and the road is a real road. that runs near a road i know well. i am aphantastic. on some level, i don’t believe that the world that i can’t see exists. new places frighten and amaze me.

how vivid is the imagery of your mind’s eye?

unrelated: the knot in my chest will spring from my mouth and rip out my guts

i have alexithymia. basically i spent most of my early life feeling desperately anxious without really knowing it. just learned to ignore the signals my body sends. i often don’t eat until late in the day. i would probably die of thirst if it wasn’t for the fact i need caffeine to motivate me to do anything in the morning. but eventually the stress breaks through in a way even i notice and i enter burn out. i was getting close to that point when i wrote this line.

have you ever suffered from burn out? are you burned out right now?

I wonder if being kidnapped by my mum‘s best friend as a child had a lasting effect?

this did happen but it wasn’t actually traumatic. i’m not entirely sure if F was really mum’s BEST friend. but a friend of long standing anyway. anyway, F just collected me from primary school and took me swimming. i think i had fun. but it did spell the end of that friendship for my mum. and was probably a symptom in the unwinding of F’s marriage.

i’m not good at swimming. i don’t think i could have swam without arm bands when this happened. i’m still crap at swimming. i hate cold water.

can you convince me to join the cult of ice cold water?

our reunion was a salty affair, trolling agents and sellers

my love got back from her sister’s and we ran across town to view flats and eat the best pizza. it was a very salty evening. she ended up buying one of the flats, so it was nice that i was there. i didn’t go to that many of her viewings. one of the estate agents we met mentioned he was training for a half marathon and we casually told him our pbs, which were quite a bit faster than what he was aiming for. hopefully we inspired him to try a bit harder. its not like we are in the olympics or something.

what are you training for this year?

so, a stoic, i mourn each day a day lost

i do try and be a good stoic, and i touch on themes of stoicism often in the poem. every day i make a point of thinking about the fact that i will die and i don’t know when. and i try and remember to think of one specific person, and remember that they will die too. a different person each day. people i love, people i wish were already dead, people i barely know.

a nearly new horizon lost, for which i missed legs day at the gym


i feel it is important to celebrate rejection. somewhere buried in the disappointment there is hopefully a lesson. something constructive to be taken. a way to improve. but even if there isn’t, even if you just tried your best and failed, isn’t it better to have given it a shot? and now, a year later, i can look back and i know that if i hadn’t had this rejection, i would have missed out on other acceptances.

#poetry #spokenword #writing #acceptance #rejection

story and sensation is all there is, between the end and the beginning


what is it to be a human? in any instant, all there is are the sensations you feel, see, hear, etc. a temperature, the weight of the earth pushing against your feet or arse, your shirt label on your neck. and then there is the story you tell yourself these things mean. but you know, you could be a brain in a vat being fed false experiences by a computer. and you are free to tell yourself that story if you prefer it.

cursed inadequate chuck-sticking, can’t hold cash either

i can’t really throw. or catch. i’ve got a bit better at it over the years, but i am just not a hand eye coordination sort of person. likewise, i am not designed to use raquets. i once chucked a tennis raquet into the air in frustration, only to catch it with my face shortly thereafter.

i don’t think i have ever successfully struck a shuttlecock. and how anyone can hit a baseball with such a narrow bat i’ll never comprehend.

so it’s little surprise that i am also hopeless at chucking sticks for the dog. yet every time, i’m a bit disappointed in myself. a bit of me seems to believe i’m eventually going to get the knack of it.