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Bugsy Watts

Bugsy Watts

Leaning into my love of writing.

41
Writings
47
Followers
4
Following
Bugsy Watts

Bugsy Watts

Leaning into my love of writing.

41
Writings
47
Followers
4
Following
Above the Airwaves

Bugsy Watts

1 min read

We heard their scorn

drift on the airwaves

but too late

to reach us up here.

Where we climbed above them

to the mountaintop

gripping down with each step

fighting the fear.


I will fight for you

whispered worriedly into the winds

that carried us

away from each other

and back again.


You are mine to hold

when they all say no

and can’t understand

the way love will transcend

every doubt,

every ...

Poetry

Romance

3
The End

Bugsy Watts

1 min read

“How does it end?”


“How does what end?”


“The story. My story. Or maybe your story. I’m not sure who it belongs to, anymore.”


“I think you’ll have to give me that answer.”


“Well… does it have to end?”


“Everybody’s story has an ending.”


“Are you sure?”


“Yes. Of that, I am absolutely certain.”...

Humour

4
Ships in a Bottle

Bugsy Watts

1 min read

I carried pieces

of me, ships in a bottle,

shattered when let go.


Buried in duty

to helm this horrid day, home

the only true course.


Then sailing onward

the prevailing wind blew west,

in time deep as oceans.


Sun stamped its tempo

in blue above and below,

days and days and days.


Breathing in years on,

remember bottle shattered,

but this ship, rebuilt....

Poetry

1
6
Ebbs and Flows

Bugsy Watts

3 min read

I felt it for the first time, in a long time, when we were standing on the riverbank between here and there.


Our journey was long, but you knew that.

If you didn’t see the contents of my soul before that moment, perhaps you saw the potential in the hope that I could never shake, or you understood that life had been heavy for longer than usual, or maybe you simply believed better than I ever cou...

Poetry

Romance

1
The Endless Terrain

Bugsy Watts

1 min read

On this night we made our way across the endless terrain. At least, it seemed endless. I’ve often pondered the ease with which humans exaggerate. It’s a silly tactic; an attempt to urge others to understand. Of course this path would end. All paths do. I just worried for Hero, who had borne me on her back for many miles without complaint. She was trusty. But, yesterday she moved so slowly, I could...

Action & adventure

2
Can You Be Your Own Abuser?

Bugsy Watts

1 min read

Can you be your own abuser

and spit vile words at yourself?

Can you do the most harm inside

and chip away at your health?


Can you hurt where no one sees

because the marks aren’t like bruises?

Can you cause permanent damage,

littered with excuses?


Can you bite the toxic apple

with your lips firmly closed?

Can you sip on drops of poison

so that no one else knows?


Can your brain be a battlefield ...

Poetry

5
Memory Breathes

Bugsy Watts

1 min read

Memory breathes,

claiming a life of its own

it breathes

reminding me of how little I control

it breathes,

pulling the past forward

in the most pertinent way,

to recollect all I did and didn’t say.


Olfaction the oxygen

memory inhales

to walk down the lane

of reminiscent tales,

Where I stayed in reality

in pleasure and in pain,

now breathing little reminders

of progress in my brain.


Memory breat...

Poetry

4
9
Lilies

Bugsy Watts

1 min read

I put the flowers

in the vase yesterday,

They were lilies,

not that you’d notice anyway.

But I thought it important

to add life to the room

and let the smell permeate

from a bouquet in full bloom....

Poetry

7
12
Right Now

Bugsy Watts

1 min read

The moments of my life reverberate

like echoes in a deep canyon.

I can still hear them bouncing off the insides of my teeth

long after my mouth has shut.

A single instance is never just that.

It lives on in memory,

being pulled apart by dream excavators

and examined by judgement specialists.


How does everyone move on so quickly?

I'm still here, soaking in the simple stillness of joy

because I kno...

Poetry

2
2
Tick Tock

Bugsy Watts

2 min read

The clock was louder than he wished. In the otherwise eerie quiet of the room, the ticking pulsed against his eardrums, quaking what little was visible under his droopy eyelids. The faded upholstery of the armchair opposite sickened him. The pea green, while a poor choice in any household, was so similar in colour to the vomit on the pavement three miles away that his stomach turned again.


Tick. ...

Crime, mystery & thriller

2
2