Parts of Morgan

Just because something is and has been and will be,

does not mean that I have, do and ever will accept that this is all there is.

I deserve more.

Spit in my face will not make me a martyr to the cause.

I'd rather lie in wait, trip the giant and plunge a steak through the thick skull of a tyrant.

I would rather remove each finger, joint by joint and silently feed it back to my slave master.

I'd rather rip out the bowels of Cerberous with my teeth than accept that I only deserve the minimum you have to offer.

Warriors deal in blood.

Not negotiation.

Some Kind of Wonderful

I don't know her anymore.

How did she get her shit together and run so fast.

Bullet from the barrel, dragonfly wings and heart beats had not passed and she went from girl to Mistress of the Gods.

Propped atop the sun, legs crossed and singing she has fucked the earth.

Turned the universe on it's head she lay with God, filled with the fire of stars.

She roars and mother nature bows down, the moon weeps and tide stops dancing. Father time and I join hands.

In time, I am preserved, in whipped sand, top of the game and still climbing bare foot, no ropes.

I itch.

My hair stands on end and I hold my breath.

My insides twitch and my teeth grind over moans.

Chest bone cracks.

You tug open my rib cage and search between my quivering organs for love.

You squeeze my heart and stroke my lungs and lick my shivering muscles.

You plunge your hands under my spine and finger every vertibre, chord and disk.

I beg for mercy.

Your eyes crease as you thumb the pages of my soul.

Your thoughts fizzle under my skin and we scream.

I creak as you fold me closed.

Together we welcomed hysteria and lept into the abyss.

Now, together we drift.

My head bumps against the ground and you settle against my body.

Reality.

We peer at each other through the same eyes but

You look like you've just read my ending and changed it.

Guys! It's #NationalPoetryDay2018! Can't miss the opportunity. Anybody wish to give feedback, I'm open. I knowwwwwww this isn't perfect. XX love ya XX

Your ivy arms hold no thorns, your endless eyes do not hypnotise.

I am no captive Eagle.

I only dream of locked talons and tumbling through the sky.

Visit me @partsofmorgan on Insta and Tumblr

Fuck.

Fuck you.

Fuck what you did.

Fuck what you didn't.

Tell the world, fuck, it will never be undone.

Fuck them.

Fuck their judgement. Fuck how they played us and they won.

Fuck how you gave in.

Fuck how she got involved.

Fuck how you were too weak.

Fuck how you were always too weak.

Fuck how I had to defend myself.

Fuck how you fed me to the wolves.

Just fuck.

I'm so fucking angry.

Fuck, it's been well over a year but I'm still screaming 'fuck' like my rage will make a difference to your tiny life.

Why do I fucking care?

Well fuck, Morgan's on my back like the devil is on fire and it's your fault.

Morgan is made from you and me and like Pandora I can't put it back in the box.

She whispers to me late at night, and in private moments that I was not good enough for you.

I was too loud. I wanted too much. I was embarrassing myself.

Fuck me, you even told me I wasn't attractive anymore.

Fuck, Morgan's voice isn't even mine, it's yours because the damage you caused is bone deep and slices muscle away from soul.

I hate you. And I hate her. You tag team still to tear me limb from limb and drive everything good from this empty shell.

I can't say 'i love you' anymore.

There are many things I've wished a thousand times for which I could say sorry.

But ultimately, I did not apologise and I can't say I regret it, though sometimes it lies heavily across my heart.

Alternatively, I could apologise all the time. Like you. But I am not sorry and you seem so lost in what others expect of you that you will always fail to match their escalating fantasy. So I do not apologise. But somehow, I end up coming back to you even though I have other options. I do not know why I stay around. The weight of your blame for something beyond my control is crippling and yet I let you push away all of your horrors.

I'm sorry that tying your shoe laces made you feel bad that day. I'm sorry that you're insecure about your body and me, wishing not to observe it in a picture, drove you to perspire, almost expire in the summer heat.

There I go again. Apologising. I'm not sorry for those things. Maybe you are rubbing off on me. I can no more feed your need for attention as a fish can climb a tree but that is what you seek and I am sorry for that. Yet I am still here. My venomous rage punctured your veins and I know you're waiting.

I wish I wouldn't come.

But I will.

The first thing you should probably know is that my middle name is Morgan.

Today I decided to make a blog about why I don't like myself.

Everybody has a Morgan.

You, me, your best friend, your worst enemy.

Everybody wants to be somebody so much more perfect than they are.

This is something I have continued to struggle with for years.

Am I being too loud? Am I being too quiet? And I too thin? Do I have odd hair? Am I odd? Do I push people away? Do I repel them? Am disgusting?

Thoughts frequently get out of hand and I have been trying to learn how to handle this.

I want to know how to be ok with my flaws.

How do you combat this?

Please tell me because today I decided to learn.

I decided to make an example of myself so we can learn together, how we can just be ok.

I am hand in hand with Morgan.

She is both me and a stranger at the same time and by creating her, I am learning how to live.

How's that for some #selfappreciation?

Please feel free to talk to me.

I want to hear you.

Thanks if you came here from Twitter!