godreallyisawoman

[godreallyisawoman]

04/01/25

you are swimming through the walls of the chapel. I am cracking my knuckles in the quiet house. bubbles in the stained glass, you are breathing in the water. I am twisting my hair round my fingers. I am sitting in the dark. you are gasping and twitching on the floor of the last pew. it starts snowing when I hold my breath. the alter is a glass tank full of salt water. I am crawling up the stairs on bloody knees. there is only so much prayer. there is only so much song.

[godreallyisawoman]

ive fallen in love with the idea of a future / one where we wake up next to each other every morning and the planets keep spinning above us, where we hold hands in the street and the sun shines on your hair / my hands are reaching for you in every lifetime / a future where we swim in the river and dive to the bottom to sit and talk for hours, where we dance in the kitchen and only sometimes burn the toast / your face features in all my dreams / a future were we have cats and wooden floors and book shelves in every room, where we go stargazing and knit each other into the constellations / i fall more in love with you and our future every day

[godreallyisawoman]

i remember being young and running free. up and down hills, over beaches and into the sea. i remember days that lasted forever, summer nights bleeding into eternity under a starry sky. but right now im back at the scene of the crime and i don’t remember the trees being so big or the path so overgrown. i no longer fit here either, six years older and more years wiser. how is the grass still so green? the last time i was here i threw up, my head in the lap of a dear friend. i had smoked one too many cigarettes trying to put you out of my mind. but look! the trees have blossom here and i havent seen you in years. my childhood days are untainted by you. my life now is washing any trace of you away. here is the hill. here is the sky. here i am still, standing upright. 

[godreallyisawoman]

self portrait as the sun

I am warm and burning. I am bigger than you can conceptualise / and small enough / to hide behind your finger.

I provide for my plants and watch as they turn to face me. I am scorched and scorned and revered as spiritual.

I am cracked pavement and hissing rain. inquisitive, curious, cowering in the dark.

I want more than this / I watch her curve across the sky / that luminous space wreck

I am causing shadows that fall onto people I have come to care about; time slips away from me. How long have I been here?

I become more of myself around her, I recognise we are made of the same magnetic field, the same electricity, the same dust

I am lost, floating / I am collapsing in on myself / in time I will turn cold

[godreallyisawoman]

you and me are jellyfish in our next life. deep sea gigantism and bioluminescence replace trivial concepts such as higher education and clothing. the inky blackness of fish-studded space reflects in your all seeing eyes. our radially symmetrical smile. flowing tentacles curl around currents, clutching at each other as we flow through the nebulous water. divers clutching pearls stare at us, hungry, gaping.

[godreallyisawoman]

lover:1

stop. somewhere there is fruit. somewhere there is life worth living. somewhere there is someone waiting for you. stop. you have to wade through the water sometimes. I don't mean pretend the flood isn't there, or that the water isn't swirling and dirty and trying to pull you down. I just mean if you quit walking you quit being alive. stop. the sun rose yesterday morning and it rose today and it will rise tomorrow. stop. somewhere the fruit is rotting. somewhere the life you wanted is falling apart. someone there is still someone waiting for you. stop. the grass is green beneath your feet and the sun is warm and yellow on your face. there are bees flocking to flowers in every field forever; as long as there are daisies children will be making daisy chains. stop. even if sharks are circling it doesn't mean you are in danger. stop. most species of shark have never harmed a human. stop. somewhere a fruit seed is germinating. somewhere the life you fought for is blooming. somewhere your lover is waiting for you and they are holding out their hand. start.

[godreallyisawoman]

the air smells of France and im hit by a wave of nostalgia for something im not sure was ever real. long gone are the nights spent cycling back from my cousins house, up the hill and four flights of stairs. the quiet room I shared for years with my sister, the uneven wooden floor. where we could draw the curtains back and get lost in the black skies. it is 11:31 and the sky is not quite dark and I drown in memories. in my head my childhood summers are full of cricket noises and waterfalls. walking along the river bank, feet sinking into fossil studded clay. I float above myself. I can see toddler me wearing her stripy sunhat as she meanders down the dirt road. I can see 11 year old me swimming in the village pool while my sister jumps in the deep end. I can see us racing, sinking, floundering to the bottom while Alex looks on laughing. I see my past selves grow and mould to the heat of the air. forever changed.

[godreallyisawoman]

connected at the root of being / there's an aching tug / early in the morning when the / sunlight streaming in / hits your face / birdsong and waves / flowers and honey / the taste of / the air by the sea / hands reaching for you touching / your hips and your wrists kissing / your collarbone and your shoulder blades / on my knees in front of / you / under running water / you / melting in my hands and / falling apart on / my fingers / you look like a painting sitting on the pebbles / and under the tree / and opposite me on the / train ride home

[godreallyisawoman]

on nostalgia and being 13

tonight im busy telling the man in my head to leave me alone. yesterday i had tea with the ghost of my friend and he told me everything he was sorry for. the list wasn’t nearly long enough. the man in my head is dancing around jupiter or maybe neptune or is it mars? whichever is most full of war and rage and longing for soft sunsets. my dead friend told me he used to love me and i had to smile like i didnt know that six years ago. like he didnt tell me. the man in my head is diving for pearls and destroying shells for their insides, and he does it recklessly like he does everything else. without thinking twice about the blood billowing out in the water. my friend, who maybe isnt dead but maybe is now, spins a story of mothers and geography teachers and snakes and weapons of mass destruction held in the hands of a shaking child. im trying really hard not to listen, to let the cricket sounds fill my head with their incessant rain and thunder. the man in my head is angry at me; canine teeth and sharp shards of bone dig into the flesh of my forearm. ive become a transmission tower for guilt. the ghost who haunts my daydreams is crying in my arms and i havent felt this electric in years. im not sure whos meant to be forgiving who anymore. 

[godreallyisawoman]

09/06/23

im ill and im emotional and I haven't been able to sleep. I miss writing. I fear I have become uninspired and boring. my past reveals itself in everything I do and as much as I run from it, I cannot escape it entirely. I miss Clara. and being 14. there are pieces of myself left in every hardwood floor I have ever walked on, every friends sofa I have slept on, every tree climbed as a child. I dislike the idea of being constantly perceived and yet I am always performing. I like the length my hair is right now but I look forward to Sophie being able to plait it again. I miss my garden. I want to feel endless again, connected to the universe and the trees and the rain. I cannot be contained by this body alone. I am more than myself and I belong to more than myself. I miss not being ill, I always take breathing for granted. I want to sleep in the grass. 

[godreallyisawoman]

the-thing-that-isnt-god asked me a question yesterday. about death and the universe and stained glass windows. so I told the-thing-that-isnt-god I don't know what im doing here and I haven't stepped foot in a church in three years, that im not even sure if I could anymore. the-thing-that-isnt-god looked at me with pity in her too many eyes and told me a tale of dandelions and oyster pearls. wove the threads of the sky into my hair and drew stars in blood on my shoulder blades. I couldn't help but flinch at every featherlight touch. the-thing-that-could-be-god came back the next day when I was waist deep in a river I had never seen before. she asked me why I was so reckless and I told her I was trying to wash the blood off my hands. the-thing-that-could-be-god was holding a hummingbird and dripping sugar water from her mouth. she told me the blood would live under my fingernails unless I tore them off. and so I did. better my own blood running down my wrist than someone else's. the-thing-that-is-probably-god sighed five sighs at once and remembered watching me as a baby, crawling through the grass. I can't help but feel I have been a disappointment. the-thing-that-is-probably-god wants me to get up tomorrow and try again. but there are too many teeth on the ground and too much sorrow residing in my bone marrow. I tell god I'll wake up in a week and be better. be good. she shakes her head and lets me sleep. 

[godreallyisawoman]

maybe its for the best

I would have listened to you talk for the rest of my life. watched your mouth curl around the syllables of everything you held dear. I wanted to meld our bones together, to be as close as possible. maybe it's for the best we let go when we did. too many times listening to how your mother fucked you up. how your dads mother fucked him up. I told you about my sister. how we aren't close anymore. how maybe we never were, just two kids stuck together at family gatherings. then I hear you adore your sibling beyond breath. 

I would have looked after you drunk. would've squashed down the urges and the fear and come running any time of night. instead I had to pick my phone up in the morning and see the notifications. you never really let me in. I wasn't with you in the hospital. I should have been. maybe it's for the best I wasn't. how many times did I ask you how you were and let you lie to my face? how many times is too many? you’re so infuriating. I haven't spoken to you in almost a month. radio silence has always been my speciality, easier to detach with a clean break. I would lie, if you asked, and say it doesn't bother me. all the distance.

but you were supposed to come and visit me here. sleep in my childhood home. I was going to take you to all of my secret places, let you into the town that raised me. maybe it's for the best you were never here at all. I can't miss an ache that never bruised. you would’ve poisoned all that is holy to me, my favourite graveyard, the chalk pits, the river. still I wanted to watch you talk to me knee deep in the grass. I wanted to listen to your voice as I dragged you through the woods by my house. I would have kissed you by my primary school church, in my kitchen, on the bridge with all the tourists. maybe its for the best

[godreallyisawoman]

Vision of the future

There's something in the water that's killing us all off and it's inside my blood. It's inside my head. It's inside everyone I have ever loved and it's inside every child. I’m knee deep in a rabbit hole wondering if anyone will ever touch me in a way that doesn't hurt. I'm falling down and spinning out. The sky has caught on fire. The trees have caught on fire. The firefighters are catching on fire. 

I’m standing in my kitchen hoping someone will wander into my life and fix something. It doesn't have to be a big thing. The bathroom tap has been dripping for weeks. Can anyone help me? The thing inside the water is now in my sink. It's in my house. It’s down the rabbit hole and it's in the dirt. The beach has caught on fire. The ground has caught on fire. The last of the snow has melted.

[godreallyisawoman]

moorland

I spoke to the river on the phone for three hours this afternoon. she would answer back in splashes and bubbles and surprisingly solid life advice. “I bit clean through a fingernail and drew blood but in my dreams everyone has glow in the dark bones. you can go to a museum and see rows and rows of shark teeth lighting up the room”. the river found this all fascinating, I twirled the cord around my finger as she ebbed and flowed down the line. there's always something sharp shoved into my pocket and I pretend its for protection. “im hungry for something inedible, its making me insatiable. I woke up this morning with honey in my mouth”. the river nodded and crashed, eroding and abrasive. washing away sins. 

[godreallyisawoman]

blood on the floor

id ask you how you are but I know you'll never give me a straight answer. instead ill keep wondering if my hands will ever feel like mine again. im not so sure that either of us are real but the other day you dropped a glass and it shattered. you picked up the pieces with your bare hands before I could tell you not to. maybe the blood on the floor proves you are real. 

the quiet in your room at 3am lulls me to sleep more often then I want it to. if I am real why can't I fall asleep alone? I wake up when the light creeps in and watch your chest rise to make sure you're breathing. and ill keep asking you how you are and you will keep lying to me and we will both keep pretending everything is okay.

[godreallyisawoman]

so its February, so its still cold, so its getting lighter in the mornings. im still here. still digging my hands into the crust of the earth to feel alive. still ignoring the top cupboard in the kitchen where I know the vodka is. still keeping fruit in a bowl on my desk and usually remembering to eat some. I haven't replaced my dead basil plant yet. I haven't called my parents since I got here. and I haven't felt this anxious since I was 14. but there is still hope, there is still time, there are my friends and there are classes I find interesting. and there is a grapefruit sitting in the bowl im aching to eat for breakfast tomorrow. and im still eating breakfast. im still holding on, its February and im holding on.

[godreallyisawoman]

there are ghosts in the fog this morning, I can feel their hands on me. you have been thinking more about death lately, when you told me that last night I cried. there are too many skeletons in the ground, too much dirt under my fingernails. im growing up and im feeling low. im walking in the rain and becoming more myself with every passing day. the fingertip bruises on my arms are fading purple and the hands that left them are long dead. there is a sense of belonging hidden in the earth and I will dig to find it until my hands are raw.