I was a person
when cigarettes were cheap and drank
without guilt, chased
the man in the moon dreams: visible ,
possibilty was my friend  existed where
a penny was worth a thought
food was keen  words
sweet as pickle juice on apple pie, eyes looked
in  love sighs,
  the
smooth and soft skin rebounded
with  biscuits ate
if fallen fell without indigesting
buttered side up
all naive, all the fantasies
as reality.

Scraped till bled, alive after they have her dead
To be left alone, she dreams of silence
At the foot of the lunatic's hill
With the mangy beasts of the wild
Which won't let you live they tell her.
They tell her their many many stories
With conclusions and morals
As she looks up at the ravens in the sky.
Hopeless.
Isn't she?

My heart has grown more weak
my thoughts more sick
my existence  jinxed
my path darker and vague

Just let me speak
maybe I'll find some peace
in words that are meant to be phenomenon
and echoes the aches that are just too incredible

like a Cinderella story
once upon a time I went through nasty and fought it
courageous
optimistic, enthusiastic and more I was labelled

now I just crawl back to that hole
totally lost
succumbed to the darkness that feeds on me
my dismay on reply

*Will I ever find hope or just settle for a rope

sobriety would not exist
or for poor
not one would be rich,
if mercy was alone would we
ever be? Merciful.

If egotism disappeared ,
would one notice humility?
If all was one, four legged
creatures gone, or slithering creatures walked,
would any comparison be feasible?

If hurt and despair were sunken down in oceans or buried deeper still
under land,
If above the burial fields we walked forever,
would life be comparable?

If but for opposites, right without wrongs,
men without women,
time even drinking a beer thinking,
would be non-existent.