He loves me
I love him
He annoys me
I annoy him
I hate him
He hates me
I need him
He needs me
I want him
He wants me

We don't want anything
Or anyone
We don't need help
We don't want sympathy
My disease is our disease
Dr's call it MS
I call it love
He knows where the door is
He is his own person
It takes more courage to live than die
He and I know this, we together are invulnerable.

Every night before I sleep I pray his love is mine to keep.

Today ****** came calling
It screamed in the still air
Awoke a community
Startled and scared children
******, came fast
****** came darkly
****** passed over as the crows moved on up ahead.

Your life is a lyric, less a song
A painting with no canvas
Waiting for the words and tune to come
The muse to inspire flashes of colour
To inspire music and scene.

But, to be seen by the muse you have to command
Inspire, craft, graft, and create
She does not wait idly by, she needs to see your life
Your song, she in turn needs to be inspired.....by you.
Nothing is free in this world, even inspiration has a price.

Oh, just one glass, can't hurt
Complex decision made.
A fermented drink to suit my mind
Red for blood
Bacchanalian ecstasies
Dionysian depravity
Ritual madness and ecstasy
A fermented grape
A fervered mind
Freedom, intoxication, liberty
The cult of souls to those who know Dionysis
The dead are fed blood by his maenads
Vampire women
Maenads a nymph, immortal goddesses of natural manifestations;
Maenads the extremes of pleasurable emotions and actions:
***, rage, inebriation, frenzy, and dance, original Manson women
He the bull, the ivy, the serpent surrounded by Satyrs
Sated, Satyrs offer another glass of wine;
Oh, go on, one more glass can't hurt.

Paper people crackling and folding
Under life's pressure
Blank pages, empty paper void of purpose
Paper flowers, swans, trees and cranes
Craning to find a crease that fits them
Brittle dry leaves waiting to be made into a purpose
Feint margins replace the wrinkles of a face
Origami organisms awaiting nimble fingers
To form features, emotions, life, purpose
Like a Samurai sword, the paper has been folded many times
Yet now blunted, pulped, set alight by a match, reduced to ash.

Murdered, disappeared, lost
What would be the cost if I just ceased to exist?

Did I cure the common cold?
Did I succumb to becoming old?

The answer would be no, but this you already know.
The cost would be that I'd lost you.

Maybe today I can smile even
Under the grey sky
Lit only by a weak sun
Take time to read not to run
Inhale the spring air
Plan a pain free day! plait my hair
Lounge without lethargy
Excite my day by not falling or bawling!

Soak in a bath filled with rose oil
Chop and cook for a meal
Love without the twin of hate
Endevour to finish Ayn Rand
Relay all my feelings in this one day
Only be happy!
Sit without numbness, or nuisance
Instill positive thinking, leave Eeyore behind
S**ay thank you to the day that made me feel human.

We speak a common language
We are friends
We have been friends for over a quarter of a century(1 old 1 new)
We have never met

You and I would never have known each other
But for fate.
Fate turned a postman up my steps
He dropped a letter with a US stamp on the mat

From the first introduction I was smitten with my postal friend
She encompassed all that was red, white and blue.
Pretty, funny, generous and kind
I felt in comparison like an ugly sister to Cinderella

American TV programmes, American music,
John Hughes movies, she lived that life
I was Ally Sheedy to her Molly Ringwald's 'Breakfast Club'
I watched her grow through letters, she I in turn.

We journeyed the 80's the 90's the naughties and now the 1st decade of the 21st century together.
We both married, we both suffered sadness and joy
Highs and lows.

You still have the hair of my memories
You still have the smile of my memories
You still evoke a time of innocence for me
You still evoke my smile

Yet, now we approach our 40's
Born anew, the US is changed, Europe is changed
We remain joined as always through words.
You my American friend.

Cloaked in anonimity she walks the halls
Cloaked in solitude and an aura that repels
She walks in heels, clipping the wooden floor
She is an enigma, she is known, she is the girl that no one knows
Knowing her is a privilege, it means she acknowledges you
You, look at the long hair dyed to hide, her lips painted to entice and repel.

The blood red lips, black hair, heels and sneers, cloak her
Talk to her and she may answer, she may just walk on
Ignoring the occasional stare she melts into herself
*****, is whispered, she inwardly smiles, searching for a face
She wants to be new. She wants to be herself.
She wants to be alone, she wants to be in a group
She wants to be somewhere new.
She wants to be with him, but, she never will
She knows the meaning of being lonely
It's her cloak.

No bricks, no mortar
Just empty rooms.
Space so large it truly is never ending
Silence, so quiet it screams.
Doors only unlocked at certain times
Windows always looking in - never out.

If we looked out what would we see?
Croquet on the lawn?
A garden party?
A dog chasing its own tail?

Focus on the dog, the ******* dog
It's teeth, the steam of its breath as it pants
It's fur glossy, midnight black
He's padding forward, to you, you at the window

Go back, run, find a room that's unlocked
Unknown, uncared for.
Hide, retreat, leave the black dog outside
You and that dog can never play ball.

You find a room with a checkered floor
Black and white, chess.
You, are the Queen of this chess mansion
You, are not captured, not today
Not by the black monstrous dog.

We have no kids to bounce on the bed
We feel the cool, damp day start side by side
We know each nook and cranny of the room
And of us.

We are an odd couple, no one would pair us
We are Ying and Yang
We are two halves of one whole
We are light and dark

We are a mystery even to ourselves
Why do you love me? I ask
Because you are you he replies
But why? I persist

Because I love you, all of you.
He turns catches hold of me
Gives me a hug, and helps raise me from the bed
Guilt washes over me on this grey Sunday

Why would he love a bitter, angry, depressed
Disabled woman?
Why?
Because he loves all of me, and I of him.

I feel the smothering darkness
Hear my cruel words
I want to take them back
But, they lay out in the darkness
Glittering like knives

Words will never hurt me
It's a lie
A platitude, a pretence
It trips off a mother's tongue
Like a drunk weaving home
Delusional in his happy addled mind

Words hurt deeper than a blade
A cut heals, scars, maybe, but
Words are forever, they multiply
They come out in the smothering dark nights
They drown you in sorrow, in pain

You lose yourself to each vowel and consonant that is constructed
You lose, you are defeated by memory.
And at the going down of the moon you will forget them
Those malicious words, those insidious remarks
But, remember night and her smothering blanket of darkness
She Returns.