Nick gave me thE BEST IDEA at like 3am on the phone for my youtube channel that no one cares about

i should rename it Lesbian Wednesdays
and only upload shit on Wednesdays
he’s such a cleverclogs 

wow fuck me it’s 5am okay goodbye srsly

omfG my cousin made this video to The Booty Song and i am literally crying because jesus fried chicken i’m the one who showed her this song in the first place FUCKNGAWREORCHRIST

• me: i need to date. i need to get laid.
• siobhan: you need to go outside to do both of those things.

Woman King 

so here’s the poem i entered for the Bridport Prize
if you want to watch the video of me reading it, you can do that here :) 
feedback is always appreciated, as always 

I can’t say that this is bursting out of me —
that I’m responding to some sort of mystical calling telling me to make my mark or remove myself from the stagnancy of my own fucking life,
but I can say that it always comes out unasked, unmasked, unmistaken
because you can’t force yourself to feel or to love, but when you try,
it’s like quicksand.
You can only take so much of your own shit before you sink so deep into yourself that no exit could ever exist —
before you become stuck in the bowels of the thing and not in the thing itself.

I don’t blame you.
You could slit my throat and I’d probably just apologize for bleeding on your shirt because, fuck, we all want to be loved —
but when you tell me I’m worthless, that there’s something wrong with my face,
I remember that my hands are strong even though my will is fucking rotten
                    that I am a tree that grows hearts; one for each that you take
                    that I am alive, god damn it
                    that I like feeling guilty about being a white privileged female and the tip-of-
                    the-tongue feeling that comes with forgetting what you’ve done.
It’s less of a game of pinball and more like making breakfast, with you.
There is routine
and a set outcome
instead of flailing around — aimlessly aiming for something without understanding why.

I’ll give you a half of an apology; tell you I’m sorry that the words that spill from my mouth like cum tend to weigh you down
but I’ll tell you I’m not sorry for making you watch as I tear myself apart because
look, motherfucker
my fingers move faster than lightning and they can burn bridges and peel your face off and kill those kids riding bikes across the street
and look, motherfucker
I’m fighting back with these hands and these lips
and look, motherfucker
I’m showing you what it feels like to really bleed
to cut off your own limbs to spite the ones who sculpted them
to cut yourself off                                from                                        yourself.

You call me baby.
                           It makes me feel small.
We’re not where I promised you we’d be by now.
                                                                            I’m not who I promised you I’d become.
This is nothing, and I believe in nothing,
                                                             but it is my nothing.
I am keeping it and wearing it like a crown.     

someone on youtube today told me to upload my stuff on soundcloud/bandcamp/that kind of thing. 

hmmmmm.

Read More

hokay
so

here’s my poem
sorry i’m all awkward at first and then super passionate about it because my poems are my babies and i love them more than people. there you have it. 

i’m going to nap

because i have nothing better to do with my life as of right now 

but hey
if any of you want to read that poem i entered into a competition/listen to it and tell me what you think about it and shit, just reply to this or something and i’ll post it later　  

in other news wow my friends and i are ridiculously cute sometimes i can’t even stand how cute we are
fucking ice cream social with my sister wives ugh god love ‘em