Writers block

I’ve been trying to write, and I’ve been getting frustrated.  I’m happy, I have nothing to write about.  I need to write lyrics for a song, I hate everything that comes out of my head, I never realised how proud I am of my misery.  I re-read every sad thing from every horrendous and painful moment I have documented, nothing.  Everything I put on paper sounds generic and dull, who knew being blissfully content was so unproductive.

I went and got myself a boyfriend..

There are certain things that should just never be left unsaid; I like you, I love you, I want to call you my girlfriend, your breath smells bad, you’ve got cum on your face.  Not everything has to be expressed like a leaf falling from a tree in a Thomas Hardy classic, but it’s useful to get these pieces of information out into the physical world, they are more useful there than as musings in your head.


I am what the people call ‘trendy’

I am what the freaks call ‘chic’

I am why the ladies say ‘splendid’

All you want to do like I did


Now you tryna say that you’ll end me

why you wanna cause me this shit

don’t you wanna know me, well your friend did

she’s the one that told me bout this


get tipsy, get nasty, get dressy, get lippy

you trashy, not classy, those brows are not fleek

you’ll see me, you want me, don’t fight it, just drop it

I’ll drop you, and squash you, your bars are all weak


If you think you got the whole package

get your sealed delivered ass here

You say you wanna hit me, well your man did

Wonder if you’ll fuck me like him


Stop stressin’, i’m messin’, you’re thoughts are not pressin’

You bitchin, you wastin’ and whining to me

snap out and jump in, to reality bring, all your baggage to me

i’ll be down at the gym and just toss it or throw it chuck it

you’re stoic, you’re boring, you’re being the worst you can be


I am what the people call ‘trendy’

I am what the freaks call ‘chic’

I am why the ladies say ‘splendid’

All you want to do it like me

This is the end.

I have loved her in a way I didn’t know it was possible to love. I wanted to follow her to the ends of the earth, to kiss every inch of her skin and memorise every curve of her body and hair. I wanted to love her until she loved herself, I willed her to see herself through my eyes. I feel like I know her better than she knows herself, I see her in vivid technicolour, her every action and reaction a reflection of her beautiful soul. But she cannot love herself, she cannot fully love me for she cannot accept the love that she won’t grant herself. I watch her leave and she slowly tears away a piece of something inside me, something that was always in me, my final gift to her.