Special place

I’m here now.
I don’t know why.
Maybe he’s thinking of me.
I’m thinking of him.
I don’t know why.
I have someone better, someone who makes me happier than he ever did.
(is that a lie?)

I breath the past.
The dead reborn.
The memories just memories. No, illusions. I see them in front of me.
Our first hug, my arms slipping through his as he held me.

No. I don’t miss it. I guess I just appreciate those moments. I’m glad they happened. I don’t want them again. Not at all.

But I can feel the awe I felt here.
I feel the peace.
The anticipation of your arrival.

The leafs now glow under the sunlight. Before there was no sunlight. Just dead trees. Bark. Naked.
Now there’s life.
Over grown greenery.
Trees taller than houses.
I saw beauty then, but I was deluded. This is true beauty now.

It’s crunchy, crumbling under my fist. Dry under my fingertips.
As my feet drag the earth complains.

I throw water out. It shines on the green leafs.
I remember dreaming here. The way I dream on my walk.

The grass stands taller than me, as I walk it Shields me. I’m invisible. Hidden.

Micaiah’s xoxo


You gotta listen to those at the top

Because those at the top got to the top.
Don’t listen to your friends, as much as they care… They want to support you but sometimes they’re afraid you will fail. They don’t wanna see that.
But you gotta fail.
And you gotta get up and fight.
Get back on your feet, keep running, keep trying.

Don’t listen to your parents “those who know whats best for you” but do they? Do they know what you love. Your feels your emotions and ur passions. They can bare to see you down in tough rock.  But hey if you do what u gotta do u will achieve, get rewarded quickly!

Man on top tell you what he did. What you can do. And it’s totally okay.to copy!!

Micaiah’s xoxo

Conscious control

You’ve probably seen someone freak out.

no. Well yes. No to something else.
Am I freaking out?
Can I control it. I can snap in and out of it.
I can tell when I’m doing it.
When I’m causing myself to do it.
Is it really me fighting against myself.

I can feel gravity taking hold of my hand as if pulling me six feet under. My eyelids unable to support themselves. Will my knees give way till I am shaken on the floor drowning in my own sweat and tears.

But I can get up and get over it. But I don’t want to.  Is this a battle?  Am I giving up?

Now the hallucinations/imaginations, my creativity too advanced for my own good.

The red writing on my thighs. It doesn’t hurt at first. Maybe the pencil was that Sharp. No one will notice.
Maybe he could. But he wouldn’t undress me like that.

But then it does start to string. The red gets darker as it stains my tights causing it to stick to my skin like my mind has to termination.

Now it hurts. Its a sharp dead pain. I bite my hand to distract myself but nothing is stronger than a vexing self consciousness and destructiveness.

The walls gossip in silence from the windows to the mirror. I stand, and see not myself, but a multitude of others. I compare them all to me. Some of them are my friends, some are people from school, people I haven’t met before… Faces from the street, famous from films,  models made in media.

I compare them to me. And sometimes, I compare myself to my otherselves. My memory mes, my emotions and actions.

I’ve had better mes. This is just one night. One night of five nights a week. Of one week turning into another week. Time slows down.

Time slows.


I freak out.

Micaiah’s xoxo


It only takes a moment.
One singular moment to change your life.
Or is that correct?
Systematically maybe, realistically we have no idea.
That random split second of spontaneity might not have been what we think.
Everything happens for a reason.
For example you are reading this because you have come on to WordPress, you are reading this because I wrote it.
I am writing it because I… Well I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m writing this.
But I do know there is a reason behind it.

And just because we might not understand a reasob doesn’t mean it’s not there.

People call out to the Gods shouting “why are we here?! What is reason!? Our purposes?”
So what’s the reason for our existence?  Well placed neutrons, elections and protons I guess. Evolution.
It’s not what we are here to do but what we have done to get here.

All our reasons are in our pasts. We are here because our parents gave birth to us. We are here because you’re grandfather scored that job.

So the reason we’re here is because of the past.
Our purpose? To be someone’s past.  Maybe. I don’t know. No one really knows. I guess it’s fun to speculate.

Are reason for our existence is our past. Not our future.

Micaiah’s xoxo



I’m stuck in a void.
Where my legs feel heavy. My head feels heavy. My eyes feel heavy. And everything is shutting down.

I can hear my breath. I can hear my heart beat. I can feel the pulse through my body.

I can feel his pulse through his body. I can hear his heart beat and his breath.

I can feel the warm chills he sends stroking my side leaving me speechless. The warmth of his touch. The gentleness. Light. Teasing. Playful.

Putting his arm around me. Holding me. Having me on his shoulder. Sitting up. Raising me with him. Kissing me.
Taking hold and laying me across his body. “Now I can look at you,”

And I can look at him. I can feel him inside mind. Messing with my moods. Like morphine.

Sleepy Micky, sleepy Ranulf. Sleepy souls.

Micaiah’s xoxo

Accidentally typed “And Thongs”

I don’t know how many of you spend several hours looking at your smart phone constantly typing like me as soon as “my day” is over. (basically when school ends)

I also don’t know how many of you flirt online or via messaging or just playful banta.

But what I do know is that I get very arrogant and type away with the wind and occasionally miss.

You’ll find,if you have a British keyboard at least, that the I and the O stand next to each other.

So when I’m talking about my life and “things” it’s easy to slip. And I did. And… That… My friends… Is how I started sexting.

No photos, no videos, just plain words of wisdom. Well placed compliments and confident expressions, harsh imagery and rhetorical questions for thought.

Whoever said English was a boring subject never understood it’s full potential. It can turn on a conversation with your partner or it could save the world as you stand in front of the UN fighting for equality.

Stay in school kids.

Micaiah’s xoxo

Fathers day prison

A whole day. The whole world. Dedicated to what’s supposed to be every child’s hero… I swear there’s a muted expectation that isn’t always met. It’s painted pretty. It tainted really…

A day where fatherless children are forced to celebrate their unfortunate chapter.
Or maybe fortunate. Maybe they’re better off without an abusive, alcoholic, gambling dad.
This day is not a fairtale.
Fuck you. All of you.

Because maybe they wanted them around. But they didn’t think you were enough for them to stick around and killed themselves.
Or maybe they just took off and left. Silence.
For God’s sake not all fathers are heros.

I know we’re meant to celebrate the good ones. But you could celebrate in private and not torture all the rest God Dammit!! 

You should be celebrating your father every day. Whether you’re 2 months old, 15 or 50 years old. Not only this one day where everyone is forced to… Urgh!

Micaiah’s xoxo