Oh no, I can’t get over it https://anchor.fm/kait-king/episodes/Oh-no–I-cant-get-over-it-e13o9va
death
The Velvet Darkness
A velvet darkness
swallows me whole
squashing my air out
taking it’s toll
and all I want
is to breathe again
to run and laugh
with no restraints
The lost and forgotten
never truly gone
hanging on to your spirit
in some shape or form
But the velvet sleep
has a warming charm
as the comfort of death
it means you no harm
Succumb as you must
to it’s deathly grip
For you are the captain
and must go down with your ship
© Kait King, 2015
Horrocide
Death by fright
3 am in the night
when slimy things
crawl with evil
intention
where Coffin Flies fly
and the sky is a scar
that’s all you get to look at
not to mention
a stinking mattress and
a heavy clanking chain
she saw what he did to the other girls’ brain
A frantic
frenzied
desperate head
pleading, begging, wishing
to be dead
Haunting
hurting
watching eyes
that cut glass with spite
coming for you
strangling life
killing you with fright
© Kait King, 2015
My Superpowers: I’m the Invisible Guest
There’s an empty
bottle on the table
A lonely shoe
left on the floor
A dress flung on
the back of a chair
A damp towel hangs
on the door
There’s a shadow
in my bed and
I guess that must be me
I am the Invisible Guest
in my house
as far as I can see
I float over to my bed
to see the shadow
tucked in deep
You would never
think I was dead
I look like I’m asleep
No one knows
I’ve gone yet
No one knows
I’ve left
I’m sad to leave
my family
crying and bereft
But there’s a light
shining for me
I’m ready to walk
in to
if there’s everything
I’ve forgotten,
I’ll remember
I loved you.
Kait King ♥️
14th September 2019
A Treasured Life

My Dad and Me
It was so sad
to watch you fade
your mind
as sharp as a knife
It was so hard
to say goodbye
To such a treasured life
It made me smile
to think on you a while
and on how you loved
your wife
Your children given
all you had
you gave
a treasured life
It seems that you
are still here
although you can’t
be seen
I often talk to you
And not just
in my dreams
I hope I told you
I loved you enough
I hope you know
how much I cared
And I know
one day,
I’ll see you again
Somewhere over there…
© Kait King, 2015
Oh no, I can’t get over it…
Somehow you get through – it’s not even that you learn to live with these things – they stay in our lives forever as part of who we are. In fact these are the things that make us who we are. They used to say this kind of suffering was character building. That may or may not be so, for me, it allows great reflection and understanding of my capacity to love and give love and in turn what it means to lose that.
One of the annoying things friends and family expect, is for you to “get over it” after a certain amount of time – whatever that time is. But there is nothing to get over. You can’t just imagine it’s behind you – things are not behind us, they are all a part of us. We carry them with the sum of ourselves. Maybe by putting things behind us we let our guard down, we love too easily again, we get hurt so much more because of that. Taking the good and the bad experiences is what makes you the person you are. Are you a fighter? Do you run away? Are you persistent? Do you give up? Whatever you do, you have to live with it – you don’t learn to live with it – there is no manual. You have no choice, choice has been removed from this section of your life and a loss of some kind has left a crater and a giant rock in the same place. Luckily the giant rock plugs up a lot of the feelings for a while – this is often known as shock. Eventually the putridness of your trapped feelings in this hole in your heart starts building up a mass of toxic gasses which must be expelled. This build up, over any period of time (as long as it takes you), causes a massive explosion. The giant rock is blasted apart from the hole in your heart. The tiny splinters of angst, hurt, devotion, honor,disbelief, love and any other betrayed related feeling you can imagine, is dug deeply into your heart and mind. Each little splinter of that pain has barbs of doubt, guilt and confusion holding them in place in your heart. And we can’t let go or it can’t let go of us or we don’t give ourselves permission to keep moving forward even though we are cemented in that time of tragedy and know that’s impossible, isn’t it?
The hard part is learning to navigate around these losses, grievances and betrayals, eventually like a powerful river we keep flowing around these rocks of hurt that seem like they will never shift or move. But they do erode – the erosion is so subtle and slow we don’t even notice and so it is, I believe, with tragedy, loss and grief; be that for a living being or a relationship of any kind. Loss leaves a big hole and a giant rock that you drag around with you all the time. Afterwards we question everything said and done, what could have been different, the “if only’s” and the “what if’s” with hopeless, empty dreams. Nothing can be changed. It is what it is, but I know I fight against this too, even though I understand the futility of the fight!
I think only in time will I manage to erode down that rock of loss, will I be able to take the sharp edges off and flow a little easier around the things put in my way that I have no way of changing. Perhaps time won’t heal the wounds, but perhaps time allows my river of life to smooth the edges of hurt. Perhaps it lets me build up strength so that I can push past that hurt easier, every time I have to go past that hurt again. Because it doesn’t go away….
Eddie G
A lisp
a whispered hiss
With a gristle hustle
and a deathly shuffle
you wind your way
back home
There’s a twist
and a freakish glow
in a freak show
the decaying beat
of a drum
hiss
a whispered kiss
of a driveling fool
your hunting days
are done
this
flayed lantern skins
bones used as tools
a soup bowl
not a soup bowl but
a human skull
© Kait King, 2015
Suicide – is it really a free ticket out?
With a delicate stillness
and a quiet noise
with porcelain perfection
and perfect China poise
the body is supine
lying dead on the floor
supine in exsanguination
a choice to become Death’s whore
Ruby red your favourite colour
you wear it very well
although I won’t see you out much
a story we will tell
Did you get off scot-free?
Did you truly escape?
Or will you have to pay your dues
and return to this landscape…
© Kait King, 2015
A lighter model….
I didn’t die
I’ve just upgraded ….
© Kait King, 2015
Before you go out tonight…just sayin’
The crackling laughter
in a clunking room
with a crashing band
on their début
Toppling patrons
a snarling fight
scantily dressed ladies
goose-bump in the night
Security stands
dark at the door
free thinking radicals
spiral on the dance floor
Falling about
in a giggly drove
Time is up –
time to hit the road
A taxi is called
some resist and complain
they take their car keys
never to be seen again
© Kait King, 2015
My Journey with Suicide

Attempt #1
I was two weeks off my 13th birthday – so yeah, I was 12 years old when this happened to me. We lived in South Africa at the time when I was raped, by a 27 year old American man that I sort of knew. That was the first time I thought about killing myself.
I was still thoughtful although quite serious about ending the agony and shame. I couldn’t look at my Mum and Dad the same way – something had changed in me and I wasn’t their lovely little girl anymore. I was damaged, tarnished, broken, tainted – I was dirty and undeserving. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened and how little control I had had over anything that happened to me.
I couldn’t live with that uncertainty at that age. I didn’t want to live a fearful, doubting life! I had been, and should have still been, a carefree, happy twelve year old who loved horses. Now I held secrets, anger, fear and hate. My horse was my savior. I would cry into his mane all the time, feeling so hopeless. We would go for rides for ages or I would just lie on him, or with him, while he grazed in his paddock. He was the only one who knew what happened. And it ate me up.
That was the first time I contemplated suicide. I will tell you how I tried sometime, but that’s another story.
A Survivor
Last thought in a Playground
She’s beating the
crap out of me
I want to be
retaliatory
But I can’t find a gap
to even try
and hit back
She kicks me in
my side
Everyone there wants to see
me cry
I can hear their
jeering calls
of magnified echoes
charging through halls
This strange metamorphosis
in sound
is my ticket off
the gravelly ground
And I can see myself
lying there
The group of bystanders
shout and cheer
My body, I see
crumpled like
a sack
And I never even got a chance
to throw a punch back
© Kait King, 2015
What’s What…
Your soul is you, your possessions aren’t…
Kait King 2015
Demon, call my name
Demon –
Call me Frightalicious
Ghouls and Trolls
Ghosts and Monsters alike
Scaring, creeping, screaming death
Freaking the fuck out
of your night
Don’t start breathing
Hold it in
The Beasts of Evil
thumping heart, frightened mind
trembling like the child you are
Don’t you let them in
© Kait King, 2015