The demons inside are born ,
Out of hate and scorn .
They guide you to the wrong turn ,
So that in hell you may burn .
I  see my dreams falling ,
I hear them calling
From the cracks Between my heart
They have devoured my soul part by part
From dusk till dawn the pain lasts
They haunt my  present , future and past
So I beg you , don't let them peek
Broken hearts and empty souls they tend to seek .
But I cannot fight ,
Another night
It's time i stone for my sins
This fight the demons win

Now we find
The garden
Sweet with lavender,
The roses giving out
Their perfume,
Still air after the storm;
Scorched pavements
From sun's shining;
Hollyhock coloured stripes
Horizontal laddered stems;
Quietness in the afternoon hour
Before the coming home
Begins.

Love Mary ***

I am your canvas,
Paint me with your colors of despair
Because I’m out on my own,
Setting little fires everywhere

I got bitten by a spider,
but this is England.

A certain arachnid
politeness is expected,
holding back on venom,
for example,
or moving at a predictable, parochial pace
and arranging eyes, legs and hairs
to not offend.

Hanging out in bedside sleeves
so an early morning stumble
is accompanied by slow burning
pin ******
leaving mild swelling and discomfort
is just not cricket.

Don’t get me started on
those chirruping buffoons.

For I shall find refuge
in the clysmic currents
of redemption.  
...                      ...

you must love the control
you must love the lies
you must love the mind games

brainwash me
brainwash me

my life is a dream

everything I know
unfolding
a lie slips out

tell me again
your twisted fairytale
sounds so real

your magic
doesn't work on me

I love you
for trying

all my life
I fed off your tragedies

your shadow
your reflection
I broke the mirror
and cut myself with the broken pieces

it's not your fault

you must love
you must love it