Tag / poetry

by ChronicWriter

my Fentanyl Muse

HAPPY EASTER KIDS!

I woke up on Wednesday morning with this poem in my head and when I put pen to paper the words just flew across the page. This came out of nowhere! Children’s poetry isn’t usually my thing and the only explanation I can come up with is; it must be drug-induced creativity.

I have recently been given Fentanyl patches as a form of pain relief for my severe and soul-crushing Endometriosis pain. This is the 2nd cycle using this patch and both times something freaky has happened. And it’s not even Friday!

After doing some online research, I found out that Fentanyl is 50-100x stronger than Morphine. So it’s no wonder I’m going bat-shit crazy! It’s been a struggle to hit the right keys, to form sentences and to even get out of bed, but I felt compelled to share this ray of sunshine with you! How could I not?

easter bunny poem

Advertisement
by ChronicWriter

November Favourites

who-you-selling-forThe Pretty Reckless have a new album out and the band is kicking ass! I fell in love with their music during my first year of uni. I bought their first album and was hooked. I can’t believe I forgot about them!

 

But we were reacquainted this month when I read Kerrang magazine’s feature around Halloween.

I have been loving the Mocha lately. Now, I confess there’s nothing better that a cup of tea, the cure-all but when I fancy something different a Mocha ticks all the boxes. Winter, a mug of Mocha and a good book. What a dream…

I am completely in love with Rupi Kaur’s milk & honey. Her words have touched me and has done wonders to help me heal lately. It consists of 4 parts: the hurting, the loving, the breaking, the healing. As an enthusiastic reader with an addiction to buying books, I carry  a book almost everywhere. Lately, this one has gone with me everywhere. Love it.


urban exploration tumblr.jpg

I found Urban Explorations during a bout of painsomnia, scrolling through Pinterest. It is a Tumblr page full of pictures of abandoned places and buildings. I love scrolling through them, imagining what I could find there, reading the history behind the photograph. These images, wild and broken but so beautiful.

 

 

by ChronicWriter

Too beautiful not to share

I need someone

who knows struggle

as well as I do

someone

willing to hold my feet in their lap

on days it is too difficult to stand

the type of person who gives

exactly what I need

before I even know I need it

the type of lover who hears me

even when I do not speak

is the type of understanding

I demand

 

-the type of lover I need

By Rupi Kaur, milk & honey

by ChronicWriter

I said I don’t write poetry…I lied

My mind ripples.

Like a mirror pool.

It’s the best way to explain it.

One small thing makes a lasting impact on my thoughts that expand and encompass everything until it is the only thing remaining.

Twisting it, corrupting it. Until I hardly recognise it as my thought at all.

Only it’s not just one ripple.

There are hundreds, starting at the same time or different times, by different things that will inevitably connect in time.

When they do, my mirror will shatter.

Shards of glass will lay discarded, unwanted in a pile. Like the thought never mattered at all.

And where’s the sense in that?

But my mind continues to ripple.

A xo