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I often write poetry and create little designs from either the whole thing or a snippet of the piece. Here’s a selection of eye-candy I share on my social networks.

To see more of my insta stuff, head to my Instagram pages by clicking one of the buttons below.


Poetry Only
Poetry and Photography

slthomasauthor

Gets a little messy on TikTok… 😬 #iykyk #ify Gets a little messy on TikTok… 😬

#iykyk #ifyouknowyouknow #tiktok #poet #poetry #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #sunday
Who wrote 2 #poems in 2 days? It’s me. 💅🏼 Who wrote 2 #poems in 2 days? It’s me. 💅🏼

#poetry #poetrycommunity #poetryporn #poetrylovers #poetryisnotdead #poet #poetsofig #poetrygram
Who wrote #poetry two days in a row? I did. It’s Who wrote #poetry two days in a row? I did. It’s me. 💅🏼

the quiet defeat 
success means nothing 
the brain speaks hyperbole 
shoulders sag with clothes 
of pilgrimage, loose, tatty 
traipsing to find something 
to discover meaning 
— found are mirages 
falsehoods, lies told 
popcorn feet, sore, bloodied 
slug bodies frigid, 
unmoving, screaming in pitched ink
banshee throat 
rough rocked, sandpaper 
noise — lost, 
silence in echo chambers 
coagulated breath… 

Copyright ©️ 2022 | Slthomasauthor | All rights reserved.

#poetry #poet #poetrycommunity #poetryporn #poetsofinstagram #poetrylovers #poetryisnotdead
i write my name in lowercase a wisp of wind a nea i write my name in lowercase
a wisp of wind 
a near silent breeze 
as close to nothing as you can get 
without being a void, instead full of regret

i identify as alive but dead
living through fog 
concrete in my head 
the lead in my heart that drags me
i drown 
i shouldn’t be here 
should be ten feet underground 

i cannot need nought
when i’m simply a wisp
a strand of nothing
not firm and not crisp 
what things can i need 
when i barely exist…

©️- Slthomasauthor | 2022 | All rights reserved

#poetry #poetrycommunity #poetryporn #poetrylovers #poetrygram #poetsofig #poetsofinstagram
Breathing through #poetry. #poet #poetrycommunit Breathing through #poetry. 

#poet #poetrycommunity #poetrylovers #poetrygram #poetryisnotdead #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig
#poetry helps me breathe. I don’t even know my #poetry helps me breathe. 

I don’t even know myself anymore,
I’m not even sure i knew myself before
Lost in the wilderness, I scream
till my lungs bleed; i swore, 
I’d never end up in a world 
that I can’t explore
It’s a culture of more, 
do more, give more, i’m always stealing time
i can’t find more to give
I can’t find the time to rhyme 
Writing poetry saves lives 
It’s saved mine - yet I’m 
still struggling to sit and write a single fucking line. 
I’m not fine, I’ve not been okay for a while
I’ve got to admit my mind’s in a bit of a spiral 
If you could make my thoughts a film
Its content would go viral 
It would speak the pain of white-knuckled survival 
I don’t thrive, I fight to stay alive 
In hell-stained sorrow, a place I never wanted to arrive 
the hopeless hole, air lacking, deprived 
constricted by the inflicted chest 
wounds of a thousand knives 
it all leaves me thinking, 
while drowning, while sinking
fuck, why the hell did I survive? 

#poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #poetryofinstagram #poetsofig #saturday
Friendship is quiet — a #poem, by me. true frie Friendship is quiet — a #poem, by me.

true friendship is quiet 
-a breath on a breeze 
carrying unspoken words
like dandelion seeds

phrases made with faces
subtle lift of a brow 
or eyes with more meaning 
than spoken platitude

friendship is given, not taken
it’s not tallied with lists of action 
“all the things i’ve done for you” 
the one who actions, forgets
the one who receives remembers 

friendship is uneven in the moment 
but balanced within the lifespan 
it’s evergreen, even in winter 
it’s practiced best in private 
not performed in public 

friendship is quiet 
yet can be heard 
in the loudest world 
through a whisper within wind 
a sigh within a storm 
-like air, we cannot see it 
but we know it is there…
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#poetry #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #wednesdayvibes
As a #writer / #poet, people make the assumption t As a #writer / #poet, people make the assumption that I can write all day every day. This isn’t the case. Many things affect my ability to #write.

When I’m not writing, I’m reading. If I can’t lose myself in my own words, I lose myself in others. It’s vital for my #mentalhealth.

#mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealthmatters #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram
When your own words fail, find others to lose your When your own words fail, find others to lose yourself in. I find myself by getting lost in words. *That’s* the beauty of creativity. An escape, a way to express, to purge, to heal. A way to process pain through beauty, through scattered pixels or ink. 

This is a beaut by Dylan Thomas. ❤️

#poetry #poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #friday #friyay #quote #quoteoftheday
A new poem for a Sunday of solace. ✨ money over A new poem for a Sunday of solace. ✨

money over morals 
a common occurrence 
wiping the dirt onto trousers 
to collect the paper 
and deposit it 
into the bank of 
get rich but die corrupted 
stained by lack of morality 
the deadly sin of greed 
the creed of inauthenticity
the fundamental seed 
of doing what makes you rich 
not what is right 
not what is just 
not what is fair 
valuing Elizabeth’s notes 
above all 
regardless of what falsehoods 
are rammed down our throats 
what would the world be like 
if morals held more value
than a fifty pound note?
in this world – moral corruption 
i guess we’ll never know…

#poem #poetry #poetsofig #poetsofinstagram #poetryisnotdead #poetrycommunity
A little #poem for a warm and sunny #tuesday 🖊 A little #poem for a warm and sunny #tuesday 🖊 

trauma is trapped inside emotion 
that sits in the cage of my chest 
poison ivy pain wraps around bars 
that rattles in the storm 

behind the sternum-ed wall 
screams that haven’t escaped the prison 
lay in iron beds hardened with frost 
stopping the seep from chest to tongue 
from tongue to lip, lip to air 
air to echo to ears that hear 
that judge, that shame, that watch 

down the diaphragmatic depths 
desolation punches the dam 
stress coils and entwines with anxiety 
its shrieks of mimicry – whispers of lies 
the “I’m okay’s” the “I’m fine” 

the need to turn yourself inside out 
to release and shed the shame 
the pain, the blame, the ache of emotional agony 
the rage, the guilt, the fullness of everything 
of emotion, of memory, 
of moments you can feel but can’t quite remember 
the trap you can’t free yourself from 
being inside your body but feeling outside
being an observer, a nothing 

outside, you’d never know
outside, you’d think nothing is wrong with me 
inside I feel so full 
inside I feel so empty…

#poetrycommunity #poetrylovers #mentalhealthawareness #cptsdrecovery
seeking connection head above the soil grass bet seeking connection 
head above the soil 
grass between teeth 
daisy-eyed, photosynthesised 
prosthetic smile 
words hum like lawn mowers
cutting through the silence 
to be met with the gardener 
who plucks your weed 
and buries you under his dirt 
in the hopes that he’ll grow 
something beautiful next time 
you, discarded - compost.

Quick little #poem on a #saturday night. #poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #follow #like #spilledink #micropoetry
I say so much yet my words are hollow I swallow th I say so much yet my words are hollow
I swallow the sorrow 
and hope it’s different tomorrow 
Tomorrow comes and nothing changes 
Mental illness is like grief’s different stages 
The pages I turn are full of traumatic ages 
On each blank sheet I sit and I lie 
I write of happiness and that I am always fucking fine
this time, I scribe lines of cognitive decline 
and how this reality I wish it was not mine
I breathe in, the pain shoots straight down my back
I breathe out and my pain escapes spreading smokey black
It’s the lack of self the lack of identity, the attack of a case of treating myself as bottom priority 
It’s a rarity that I’ll speak of me with any positivity 
With tears that have oceans full of toxic salinity 
I don’t cry, I can’t cry, my emotions sit too deep 
Tongue tied, deep inside are words I cannot speak
It’s my weakness to recklessness that I wear like a fucking necklace 
My distress demonstrated in a lack of self control 
Impulse spending; buying things to fill a whole 
Paying in penny, but I’m still empty
Numbing emotion numbing thought regretting everything I’ve bought 
It’s all for nought, I’m still in pain 
I am still feeling exactly the same 
But I lie, I sit a while, and I say, 
“Thanks for asking, I appreciate it, I’m okay.”

#poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #cptsdrecovery
a little #haiku. • • • #haikupoetry #microp a little #haiku. 
•
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#haikupoetry #micropoetry #micropoem #poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #spilledpoetry #spilledink
Purging pain with #poetry. It’s what I do. i ha Purging pain with #poetry. It’s what I do.

i have a toothache in my brain 
an emotional gnawing
throb, throb, throb 

an ache that doesn’t quit 
sometimes it’s quieter 
barely there, on the periphery 
until the throb throb throb 
pulsates louder, loudest; screams 
to be released

if only it were in my mouth;
I’d beg the dentist to inject 
anaesthetic into my bulging gum
and pull, tug, twist, yank 
until the pain ceased
I’m terrified of the dentist, 
but when the pain is so bad
the dentist is no longer the scariest place;
it’s inside the mouth

I’m terrified of death
but when the toothache in my brain 
is throb, throb, throbbing, 
all I want to do is rip out my pain 
at the root -
the scariest place is no longer death 
it’s my mind 
knowing that I need to live
with the throb throb throb 
the emotional pain
the toothache in my brain 
that whispers to remind me it’s there
and other times confronts me,
nose to nose, spitting it’s scream
leaving its germs on my face, 
leaving it’s stain, 
it’s throb, throb, throb 
a never ending echo

I wouldn’t, I couldn’t live with a toothache 
for the rest of my life
so why am I sitting here with this?
there’s no anaesthetic to numb it, to void the
ache, the throb, 
I can’t extricate my brain 
I can’t tear up thoughts 
and scatter them like the paper scraps they are 
I cant rid the root 
I can’t rid the tooth 
I cant visit the dentist 

I hate the dentist. 
But if my toothache of the brain 
was a toothache in my mouth, 
I’d visit the dentist 
And beg them to pull it out. 

©️slthomasauthor 2022

#poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #cptsdrecovery
i hold my vulnerable pieces in between dewy palms i hold my vulnerable pieces
in between dewy palms
that vibrate under the weight of fear
of things i tell myself i am not 
while people tell me that i am
i don’t see the same reflection 
i don’t see, yet
i see everything but me 

i am empty, yet
i am full of the torn scraps 
of paper, the essence of me 
written by the perception 
not the fact 
you can’t write on a page 
that doesn’t exist 
i don’t have a page 
i am not paper 
i am not even the tree 
nor the oxygen it whispers

i am not defined by person 
i am defined by action 
by service
by voice 
by gesture 
my breeze
rather than my statue 
when still, i am erased
unseen, invisible 
my exhale makes no sound
-the noise i create is trapped
behind walls of thought 
and flashback 

i died, a child 
unnoticed, i died
i died, resurrected as adult
i hold my vulnerability 
between dewed palms 
that don’t feel like my own
a blank breath 
made of the scribbles of others
indecipherable 
i am in pieces
and they’re not even mine…

©️Slthomasauthor 2022

#poetry #poet #poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #friday
putting “me” first feels dirty, soiled, guilt putting “me” first 
feels dirty, soiled, guilt-ridden 
-a crime; it feels like a break of the law 
my internal rules, set, unbreakable 
ironic - the unbreakable rule breaks me 
like veins hold blood, my body holds pain 
the flora and fauna of decades of trauma 
a desert without water, barren, but warmer 

I’ve had years of looking at my own reflection 
hating the human, lacking a two-way connection 
rejection occurs when you can’t identify 
the person looking back at you with tears within their eyes 
years of therapy and I’m still missing me 
being found yet still feeling lost 
that’s true serenity 
outgoing and bubbly 
yet behind the screens I freeze 
a secret introvert 
with a blurred personality 

the problem is, I don’t know what I like 
I don’t know what I love 
I don’t know who I am 
beyond work or being a mum 
if you asked for three things about me 
I wouldn’t know a single one
I see a faceless entity that lacks a sense of being 
I morph into mask, depending on who is seeing 
my goal, to keep buried, to keep myself safe 
in the dirt of my future, deep in an unknown place 
the soles of my feet dirty; my palms always clean
to hold onto goals, to hopes, and to dreams
but nothing is certain or ever as it seems
split seams, even my genes are completely undetected
maybe I’ll never know, maybe I’m just defected, self-rejected…

#poetry #poetrycommunity #spilledpoetry
Another day, another #poem. my brain aches a squ Another day, another #poem.

my brain aches 
a squeeze of the gut, 
etched in the head 
aching for anything but this 
forget restless leg syndrome, 
i have restless head syndrome

a chronic railway of thought 
at rush hour 
in the middle of London 
-every thought 
crammed in the carriage 
no respect for distance 
with the thought next to it 
-thoughts collide, 
brushing up against one another 
holding on to the overhead handles 
stood, like soldiers, back to back
ready for war

some, carry luggage 
others, shout
the other thoughts hear them
they tut and judge, 
and write their own musings,
punitive penning of perjury 
based on the noise inside the tube-train head 
rather than facts that ground them at the station 

the passengers are unruly, forget how to behave 
caught in their conflict, i am their slave 
they all want attention, a cacophony of criticism 
of chaos, of catastrophe, of too much hyperbole
it’s destroying me. 

the noise, the constant train-full of thought, 
from dusk, till dawn
i shouldn’t have stepped into the carriage 
i should’ve stayed on the platform…

#poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #mentalhealthmatters #mentalhealthawareness
i don’t “hold on” well. I fall. a mess. a m i don’t “hold on” well. I fall.
a mess. 
a metaphor. 
a simile. 
anything but reality. 
reality isn’t ironic or beautifully ugly 
it’s hard, it hurts - 
back against the wall - 
i want to crawl out of my own skin
run away, leave the essence of me behind 
i want to escape - run and hide 
wash away all traces of me
leave nothing behind
i want to be blind to pain 
to not feel 
to not sit with worry, heavy in my gut 
waiting for it to spill out 
purging the worry in puke 
i don’t want to feel like i do 
i feel everything in such large measures 
if my feelings were alcoholic drinks they’d be illegal 
100% proof, way beyond the usual “double” 
so pungent they’d cause liver damage in one gulp
i don’t want to feel. 
i’m sick of high alert, 
i’m tired of waiting for the next bad thing to happen 
i watch and wait 
my neck hurts from constantly looking back 
everything is grey, until it’s all black 
when it comes, it covers me with its lead
trapped, strapped into its shadow 
too tired to fight, too imprisoned to see light 
there’s no daytime, only night…

#poetry #poetrycommunity #poet #spilledwords #spilledink #spilledpoetry #saturday #saturdaynight #anxiety #depression #eupd #cptsd #mentalillness #recovery #mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealthmatters #purgingpain
Something new: you can’t relapse when you’re Something new:

you can’t relapse when you’re not in recovery 
these flashbacks, they consume, they smother me 
It bothers me that my serenity is failing me 
Instead of freedom, my thoughts are fucking jailing me 
Hailing me the queen of being trapped 
Controlled by the synapses in my brain getting snapped 
I was metaphorically strapped in, lacking, anything, no safety 
no way to get out of this hell safely 
I believe it’ll chase me - all eternity 
and that thought - it’s concerning me, 
how can recovery be achieved when the stains 
still linger like the prints on each of my fingers 
lest we forget that progress needs forward movement 
when flashes take you back, you freeze, pardon my prudence 
Im fluent in the language of my own situation 
My brain has mange from the false emancipation 
These shackles hurt, they tear at my skin 
creating scars that can be seen deep within 
i try to heal them, but I barely begin 
when the voices tell me that I’m “never recovering” 
Bound by someone else’s deathly fucking sin
yet they walk free and it’s me that’s struggling 
wrapped in their actions, strangled by their rope 
It tightens its grip - noose around my throat 
it comes in waves, I have days where I remember to forget 
and others, I’m drowning in the sea of self-neglect 
I find respect for myself and the journey I have taken 
and the inner child - me - the one who was forsaken 
it’s not me that’s breaking, that’s the child of which I’ve spoken 
you can’t break when you’ve already been broken 
a token gesture from me to the past 
CPTSD, emotionally disordered personality, and the ability to wear an “I’m okay” mask
It never lasts, 
No, I’m not oh-fucking-kay 
I just hope this is not how it’ll always stay…

#writing #writingcommunity #poetry #poet #poetrycommunity #mondaymotivation #monday #recovery #mentalhealth #cptsd #eupd #spilledink #spilledthoughts #creativity #wordporn #love #like #follow #instalove #instamood #mood
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