I'm running down the tunnel tunneling towards a black abyss.
Dark, lonesome vault-like the curves are all amiss.
Damp and moist filled cavern so foul and ever queer.
Drip, drop splashes echo filling up my ears.
Green eery glow now pooling in the pool.
Shoes soaked and clingy a stench so foul and cruel.
Metal clangs as rust scraps start scraping at my hands.
Ladder rungs are snapping beneath my footed stance.
Reaching for a metal hatch my fingers stretched up high.
Pushing on the push closed door my vision blurs the light.
I have run down the tunnel tunneling towards the black abyss.
Crashing through an unknown path I ended up in bliss

The rain is a part of our skin.
Hands gently clasped, the music begins.
The wet dusky car park now feels like a dream.
Dissolving in puddles the bright moon beams.
Droplets dance in your hair like ballet.  
We twirl and we laugh embracing the rain.
Raindrops caress the curves of your face.
Our stare then our lips.. slowly fall into place.

I'm alone in my head
I'm speaking out loud
I'm hiding all my secrets then bursting and spilling them out.
I'm alone in my head
I'm shutting them out
I need someone to hold me and stay so I can figure this out
I don't want to be alone in my head
I don't want to let it all out

Love is what we feel when we experience the beauty of our world.
Being in love is experiencing its beauty together.
Loneliness is wishing for both yet feeling neither.

A sleepy head lay heavy, half slung between the covers.
The smell of cotton snuffing his senses. The warmth kept his body still, as sleep came drifting down on him.
Old books browned, faded and stacked watching as he snored.
Dust in a time whirl danced from the ceiling.
Spiderwebs weaving.
The croaking critters began to welcome the evening.
The moon shone lonely that night it's bright light shying behind grey curtains.
The old man slowly hesitating awakes, to a memory much faded.
Unknown books and unknown linen.
The nurse re-enters and helps him to sleep again.

Grey gloomy and beautiful
The sound of rain and tin.
Smokey scent and tree tops
The little birds still sing.
Cool crisp and twilight
Rain drops steady drum.
My mind so ever peaceful
I won't wish the rain to stop.

It's 4am but you're not sleeping.
Your friends went out, but you stayed in.. Again.
The lights are off, but it feels much darker.
Your mind is screaming you're a coward.

Let's go back to where this almost ended.
My last poem forever pending.
You held me close and stopped me comprehending, the life in hell I'd one day be spending.

I am afraid of the scariest of things.
I am afraid of the past and what the future might bring.

I am afraid of your eyes they all have a story.
Some of pain some of love
And some just ignore me.

I am afraid of judgement the things that you see.
I am most afraid of what my friends think of me.

I am afraid of the dark, my mind and of being alone.
I don't like to remember things that happened at home.

I am afraid of all this and of so much more.
But the one thing I know is I'm brave to the core.

Remember me in the summer breeze when the wind blows calm and low.
When the summer fields bloom with colour wheels and the sweet Magnolia's show.
 Remember me in the autumn leaves when Noon's an orange glow.
When the trees are full and the moon is bright and squirrels dance in the forests bows.
  Remember me in the winter freeze when the snow falls slow and kind.
When the children pray and sleigh bells play to bring on  Christmas time .
  Remember me in the spring  filled trees when daffodils meet the eye.
When rabbits jump and lambs wobble on bent knees and crooked thighs .
 But remember me when we finally meet and the ocean drifts on by
when the curtains close the world unfolds and all that's left is you and I

The tragic misfortunes of the victims of hate
Could not control their haunted fate.
Romeo and Juliet bound in chains of doom
sprung from a fountain of a toxic fued.
Fiery tybalt and his sword of gold revived a battle that remains to be told.
Romeo in anger and full of love killed the boy and a riot set off .
Now the hate grew ever more and more and soon enough the families where at war !
Which to end a tale in death and tears for these ancient families it was never clear.
That there love made love turn into hate.
Now four lay dead in a tomb,
from the battles of the caplets and the montagues !
And never was there a story of more woe than this of juliet and her romeo.

Scrambled words on toast.
gulping down the hot coffee roast.
Place mats or beer mats face down on the table.
Sweaty palms trying to keep stable.
Ear drums and kettle screams.
Topsy turvy kitchen dreams.