Out of the Blue

I got angry again on Saturday
Out of the blue in self defence
After, I knew I had, though didn’t quite remember
It’s my shame
They blame it on the wine
Say I drink too much
Though these days I barely do
I got annoyed again then
Blame laid at the wrong feet
Because no matter how many times I tell them
I HAVE PTSD
They simply cannot see
How much its changed me.
I hide it way too well
Don’t talk in depth about this living hell
The rage, frustration and intrusive thoughts
Chewing me up inside
I cannot sleep, I cannot stop, there is no rest
I’m a natural born pacifist
Now filled with boiling rage

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Dream of You

I dreamed of old friends last night
Of lives long since passed
Love that never was
Experiences never lived
Where does reality begin and end?
In sleep its all the same
Though colours are often an exotic lie
And timelines have no sense of time
Day for night
People changing faces
Yet, I still know who they are
Sometimes I wish I didn’t.
But I didn’t dream of you
I’m thankful for small mercies

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Pardon Me

Pardon me it was not me
I did not mean to be so rude
It was just my PTSD crept up on me

Like the bastards that left me with this shit

Vanessa Haley
May 2018

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F Me

Fuck this
Fuck that
Fuck shit
Fuck you
I try not to give a fuck
But, fuck I do
Fuck them
Fuck their opinion
Fuck the judgments
Fuck the biased press
Fuck the bent government
Fuck the lot of em
Well fuck me
I don’t give a fuck
Until they fuck with me

May 2018

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Broken Still Beautiful #7

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Broken Still Beautiful #6

Broken break light bulb. A world of its own.

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I Love Poetry – But

I love poetry, especially

When

It’s clear, interesting, unambiguous

No words wasted describing an arsehole

Something like:

He said

She said

They were as pasty and dry as 2-day old bread

You see?

Simple?

Poetry, I love, but

It could be why some don’t engage

It can be exhausting

Trawling through the euphemisms

Hard to captivate a mind

Filled up with too much reality

Poetry, I love, because

It gives form

To feelings – and shit

Expressions, decisions, rejections

Turmoil and passion

I want a narrative

Doesn’t have to be linear

That doesn’t need a degree to understand

Though I’m not short of them

I love poetry, that

Isn’t full of exclusive language

Sending me around the spirals, of

The authors self-aggrandisement

Literary loquacious patronising

I don’t have time for that

I love poetry, that

Doesn’t give me a brain ache

Like the florid shit that pretends to be interesting

I love poetry, that gets to the point

I think I’ve made mine.

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