Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

it’s not like it’s actually the end of the world
it just feels like it a lot of the time
and i was just hoping, really, seeing as the bombs haven’t yet

dropped
that you might take a few moments to exist with me and breathe

in the air before it turns to dust

see, i had this idea, a while ago
that we could be possible
see, i’m an optimist under all these layers of self doubt and

deep dark thoughts
and i thought maybe if we touched, just once, it’d all make

sense and you’d see me

because i already saw you, oh so clearly

but truth is, you’re never going to see me, are you?
the bombs could drop and it wouldn’t be me you’d scrabble to

save
so this is just a note to say i understand
i’ll tamp this down, let it fade
until it barely hurts at all

because every time i rip my skin open for you
you let it fester and you let it bleed
you don’t offer bandages, you don’t even take a second to look
and i think it’s time i realised that, that everything i do and

everything i say

it’s all so much dead air
we’re static on the radio, still figures in the night
and you don’t love me because you don’t even know me
and i know a version of you, but it isn’t one you share with

the world

so yeah, i see you, i saw you, and you blinded me

so with blindfold on and hands outstretched
i back away slowly
i didn’t know blind eyes could still cry
but then, i suppose there’s a lot i don’t know

Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

sloppy late night handwriting
as i try to describe
every butterfly
in my stomach
when i think of you
ink scrawled across the page
or the back of some crumpled
receipt
just the desperation
of words
eager to escape
but impossibly, impossibly
inadequate
when it comes to you
and all you are
and all you are
how can i write you
when you are everything
and the world
would be a little colder
should i have never met you
i am lucky
beyond words
i cannot describe
that kind of luck
how could i possibly
how could i possibly
begin to describe
the wonder that is you?

Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

glow in the dark stars
on your ceiling
and your arm across my stomach
and the soft snuffles of
your sleep
your nose pressed into the pillow
and your bed-head ruffled and more
perfect than when you ever style it
i can count every freckle, every scar, every tattoo
every mark life has left upon you
i can trace your skin with my lips, my fingers, my tongue
i can memorise every part of you
or i can try at least
to know you are ever-changing
as we all are
but in this moment with your chest moving and your heart beating
and it’s just this
in this moment it’s glow in the dark stars
and the weight of your arm
and the soft snuffles of
your sleep
and that’s enough

Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

anxiety is –
the moment in a horror movie
when the girl looks behind her
and doesn’t see the tree root
her foot twists
and she falls
and in that moment
she knows she is going to die

anxiety is –
knowing you are going to die
it is the fall that will kill you
because you were too busy looking back
to keep your footing.

Misc prose, Uncategorized, Writing

girls have sharp teeth
you may not think so, but they do
for biting, bruising kisses
to drain the blood and leave the husk

girls have sharp teeth
with settled words behind them
waiting for a perfect moment –
to let them free to sting and burn

girls have sharp teeth
they keep them sheathed but –
the right moment will show itself
and when it does – oh when it does,
they’ll rip you to shreds

Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

Your lips taste like cinnamon

And I’d never tasted cinnamon before you

Now it’s inescapably a part of you

You are the girl with cinnamon lips

A soft spice of taste

After drinking your coffee

It reminds me on the days when you’re not around

I taste it

And oh –

But of course

There you are.

Publishing, Uncategorized, Zines

So, I’m looking to contribute to zines or websites or collections or anything that’s out there, just to see my name in print or on the world wide web. I know my last poem got a few likes, which was amazing considering I wrote it half drunk from lack of sleep at 5am, so yeah. But honestly, if anyone is collecting works, let me know, because I’d very much like to be a part of it. I like the idea of creating something beautiful and sharing it. You can email me at lottiexcore [at] googlemail.com – excuse the email address, I’ve had it since I was sixteen and thought I was hardcore. I’m not hardcore. I was never hardcore. Anyway. I will be adding more poems as they come to me, so please feel free to follow this blog, and I’d love it if you got in touch or let me know about anyone who might be interested. Thanks for reading! xx

Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

I run with the wolves because what else would I become –
My skin is marked and my hackles raised
I bare my teeth to the setting sun
My feet are bloodied and my knees are grazed

I run with the wolves because I speak to the dead
In ancient tongues and blood rites past
In rubies, corals and all things red
In knowledge that I am, finally, the very last

I run with the wolves because the night seduced me
I run with meat caught in my teeth and sharpened fangs
I run with intent and promise of pure and simple deed
I run with aching stomach and hunger pangs

I run with the wolves because once I was a lamb
Devoured whole and an empty grave
I run because the waters have long since broken the dam
And because no, I still haven’t learnt how to behave

I run because when you’re running you can’t look back for fear of falling
I run because what chases me is more terrifying than any four legged beast
I run because I cannot face the morning
And darling, finally, I run because I need to be released.