Excalibur.

when I am
skipping records
decaying teeth
nails cut too short
broken bracelets
an alarm going off silently
pulled muscles
mossy headstones
necks bruised by nooses

i draw
my Excalibur
from its sheath
uncap it
tap it against the page
and let the stream of unconscious thoughts
escape
not for gain
this is the only way
i process pain

sometimes, the words
jump out of the book
take back what I took
restore my mind to its intended design
sometimes, they pulse
thump, prod
loud, awed
deafening applause
snapping sharp jaws
shouting without pause
rewriting broken laws
there are times
i write
and feel ready to fight
avery unrighteous knight
that dared lift their hand to smite

there are days
the words on my page
are kind
and more sane
they sit, exist
easy to miss
not asking to be seen
unrevised, not pristine
but healing
there are days
the words
hold all I am feeling
sometimes I
brush my fingers along the lines
and try not to cry
the poems are not always
an extravaganza
sometimes, my life
is summed up in two stanzas

and once my sword
is blunt
done with it’s stunt
once I no longer need
to hunt
when the earth of the battlefront
is scarlet

i am
stars
fresh, sliced apricot
in hand-painted jars
a summer sun shining
through curtains of lace
running out of breath
and discovering
life was never a race
newly painted nails
gentle hands
tracing old scars
everything I have been
has been written
and everything I have written
has healed me

poetry
is the most healing
beautiful feeling
i will forever be anticipating
my next conceiving.

20:31pm - 21/03/26 

happy world poetry day :)