Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Where I can feel at home…
I am appalled, I have failed to secure or retain a personal connection, a fallen notion, an untidy, needy calling. Why does my desire to be considered, to be seen without trigger exist, a stifling need woven like poison ivy around a body and mind so disheartened?
Occasionally, I struggle to find the words to speak, to correctly express my sincerity, because sincere is how I wholly desire to be viewed, and I don’t wish for any unfair prejudice or judgement. I simply wish for the right combination, the winning ordering that shows everything in part or in whole, that [...]
Sometimes, occasionally, I feel like I’m coming back to life. When the outer layers peel down and around me, revealing the scintillating softness inside. So curious am I to view and feel and touch this part of my identity, where I am completely vulnerable and wholesome and completely, utterly me. This nature [...]
Every morning is the same for me, I rise, I pad, I create hot water that I stain black with bitterness, a substance that does please. I open my laptop, attend to the various avenues, hoping, wishing, waiting, for the stats to reveal certain clues. Is it bad to hope for the 'views'? [...]
https://soundcloud.com/user-894707136/a-bipolars-addled-mind-spoken-word-poetry I shriek, my body flushed and covered with welts, my very first memory, my very first malady. Illness will follow me wherever I go. My violin's bow hairs tightly hug the strings, as left-hand dexterity is a-flurry, the fruits born of my first psychosis, the magic of a mind wholly scattered and broken, [...]
I have not been outside in days, huddled down in my cocoon I have encased myself with stinging words and florid phrases, distinctive patterns to my ears, though perhaps not to others. Alone, I sing of times of freedom, absolution, and success, upon reflection, these moments were anything but what I felt, I operated [...]
Pinned to the game of life, spin it for a consolation prize, perhaps you’ll win something extraordinary, either way, relish the pillaging of history. The girl pinned on the wheel is there unwillingly, but she is there to provide smilingly, there is always something to gain from her presence. Around and around and [...]
She hides between the curtains and the window from nothing in particular, allowing herself to view the wide-eyed smiling moon casting its dancing light upon the dew dotted grass; a nightly view so familiar. The brightness is expansive in her vision compared to the darkened room which she calls her home, where upon the [...]
I think it’s time that I write how I feel today, a truthful account, that I will put to my name. Everything seems hopeless, I feel as though I’m nothing, not worthy of anything positive, to be written down, nothing joyous or amazing. Nothing can cheer me, it seems as though today’s sharply crested waves [...]
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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