do not call me sweet or kind or lovely.
i cough up foul thoughts
and splutter out obscenities through each vein.
i am not graceful or dainty or thin.
my stomach rumbles, my hands shake.
the basins of my collarbones do not pool with sweet rain.
and i beg of you,
do not tell me i am beautiful.
i am trapped in this rotting cage,
and those words might set me free.
- a poem written by me on the 29th of September, 2013 -
Taking self portraits has rocketed to the top of my "things to do on a rainy afternoon" list. Days like today; thunder crashing in the sky, lightning & rain abundant, are hands down my favourite of all. There is something about the sound of rain, almost silence in itself. I suppose if I were to give myself a "label", it would be pluviophile; a lover of rain.