Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose
A corner of my world where I feel most at home
Let us ride the waves of misery but away, away from the blight, allow us to shine with the knowledge of that mystery, as we approach each other in the dead of night. And let us have that embrace which has been awaiting us for oh so many years, let me feel that heartbeat of yours and detract from all my old fears. Please let me wash away the hurt that I feel within my soul, let it rain, let it rain, and rinse away the suffering, [...]
There is no longer any pressure, self-produced, to create nor feel, no rushing to the chopping block where I must reveal my innards, to show something real. Instead, I can gently rest, not be concerned with the haste, my imposed rush, because it is time to take some time out for myself, I’ve been tired and don’t I know it. [...]
They couldn’t help it, they had stars in their eyes. Bright burst of fireworks encapsulated in their sights, little pin drops of explosions, one by one they shine and shone, filling their beings with life and fire, delighting themselves, fear, they had none. What is it about confidence that oozes delectability? And what is [...]
I am stronger than I perceive myself to be, even with the massive doubts I cast upon me, I am not withering inside, shadows covering my soul, no, I am strong, almost invincible. I am positive, even though I wonder and question my skills, I am wise even if I’m struggling, I can make it [...]
I am not a stranger to the darkness, though I am unafraid of the light. I am willing to crawl on broken glass, dragging shards through my flesh as I attempt to better myself, fall away will the blight. I can rip these fragments from my skin, gaping wounds, painful holes, I am like [...]
I tell myself to be positive, there’s no reason in the world that hope for human life should cave in. I tell myself to see the positive side of things, that there is not pain and suffering everywhere I turn, my heart shouldn’t flat-line: the highs and lows of existence, the pitch should still [...]
Monday draaags himself in, he doesn’t want to be here, other Mondays wave from behind stern mugs of coffee, they also don't wish to be here. Sunday and Saturday had the time of their lives the previous days, they celebrated and socialised in a manner that really was purely wholehearted in so many ways. [...]
I am struggling to rise to my little hooves, I am failing to grasp hold of balance, I am calling, calling, for this ability to visit me, the skill to be mobile, to be free. For so long, I’ve been unable to properly walk and stride, how problematic for a soul for whom the [...]
The green in her eyes speaks of envy, of rich, potent jealousy, block upon blocks of her irises compacted – there are shades of yellow lingering. Like an aged page of a book, curled and poignant a scene, her yellow paper is delicate, ancient, unlike recalcitrant feelings which have not been heeded for years, [...]
You say it’s not right, that you’ve left an untidy impression, you didn’t need to leave that lingering taste upon her lips, here is your apprehension. You say you've projected yourself far more than you desire yourself to be viewed but how to disentangle yourself from this resultant unhealthy view? Would you allow yourself the [...]
