She lays down
in bed-sheets red and retreats into her mind
agonizing over answers to questions,
answers she will never find.
This isn’t the first time.

The sun and the moon waltz through the skies
watched through clouded eyes
the pair reminds her how alone she feels inside,
the disconnect that’s in her mind.
It won’t be the last time.

The wind batters her with rain
she is tired, broken… ashamed.
She doesn’t know your name and you don’t know hers,
it’s time for that to change. Loneliness is the bastion of the mind,
don’t look for answers you will never find.

Do you know how hard it is to stand with one leg missing and one leg broke ?
It’s a joke.
Left to learn to walk without support
Feeling like a failed abortion.
Going through the motions of love and trying to rise above and reach my hand out of the mud.

Bud I can tell you it’s hard
Iv come far on my own
With no parents to phone or ask about how to live life without strife.

I’m sorry but I shouldn’t be, I’m trying to do this for me and I guess that’s harder for you to see.
You think that because you took the time to make me tea and never mistreated me
That makes you free from blame.
Makes me feel ashamed and framed for the crime.
Maybe in time you will see what you did to me
And that tea isn’t enough for a kid and the effect that the empty fridge had on me.

You were high when I was low
I was slow to pick up on your problem
That’s my problem.

I’m sorry.

I rue the day I lost faith in myself,
let negativity take over sober thought
and say to me my chances are shot,
to be content at a morose trot fowling maps of my life that strangers plot.

Is Life just a spinning gun? , a game of luck.
Revolving on, in endless loops leaving me stuck in the muck.
Waiting for my turn to tug the trigger as the steak gets bigger
and my goals and dreams are self-dammed,
the fires that burn them self-fanned.
My mind imposing dark bans on self-success as I tell myself “I’m a mess”

what would happen if I focused and give my best?
What would happen if before I play i open the magazine and abandon the bullet?
Would I do better if I wasn’t so worried I’d shoot myself?

If before I play i dare to prepare and tell myself I will win because the bullets gone and that negative voice binned.

I Think I could.

I have ever felt alone.
Marooned on a rock,
Surrounded by dead stock
Absent of mind or independent thought.
Idiocy is idealistic, ignorance bliss,
I envy this in them.
The burden of intellect is straining on the mind and once knowledge is gained escape, hard to find.

Walking thin lines between the mundane and mad,
A life drained of meaning,by the hand of definition.
Cornered by the finality of decisions I never made.
Alone.
Afraid.
Living in a time, after all has been said and all is being said.
After foundations laid and built up
into city states.
Now I’ll get to stand on its grave and watch as what makes us individual fades.
We’ve become slaves to lit pathways and the printed words on the back of meals that say
PUT ME IN THE MICROWAVE!
For one and a half minutes.
Then stir.
Going in circles with my spoon feeling a discontent bafoon because my life comes pre-prepared, easy to serve and consume.
These presumptions leave us no room, our creativity entombed.
But maybe one day when the worlds not so broke it will be exhumed.
I write to them from the world we broke.

A dark stranger hides behind corners in the corridors of my mind.
I have his name and he has mine.
Sometime I’ll say hello to him but just from time to time.
Sometimes he’s bound in broad, black,  wrought chains. Seeming beastly and      un-tame.
Sometimes he gets loose and plays sick and twisted games.
The dark stranger is a glutton for all the other sins.
Don’t be tempted by his offers, he will always win.
No dagger will stop him of iron, bronze or tin.
Nor will you find solace at the bottom of a gin.
The dark stranger must be tamed as he can never be the blamed.
For I have his name!
I have his name.
The dark stranger must never be embraced for even one, short, sweet taste and he never stops the chase.
Beware the dark stranger lurking in your mind, lest you wake one day and he is all that you can find.

Lying, yellow lamp light illuminated the baron broadway.
Fear beginning to break through thought, fighting for freedom from intention.
“Be afraid”.
“Be very afraid”.
He stayed, splayed
on hard road looking peaceful in that white night.
Calling to the angels with snow.
“NO! Be afraid”.
“NO! Be very afraid I said”.
His mind was already made, he stayed splayed.
Weeping, wishing, waiting he welcomed what was to come.
“RUN!!”
“RUN!!”
“RUN!!”
But he was done, finished with the world.
Thought and fear swirled inside; whirlpools of midnight black carried him on tormented tides, torturing his mind.
Is this his time ?
Is this his time ?
Continue on ? and when they ask he’ll just say that he is fine.
Joke and laugh and long inside for things he’ll never find.
These were the thoughts that toiled in his mind, teetering on the edge, shears ready to cut thread.
Laying there....
Staying there as headlight begun to blind.
Feelings, thoughts and life its self bursting from there binds.
Faster, closer, louder. No one sees the signs and no one cares: pain so great it can’t be beared, hurt so deep it can’t be shared, pain that teared and teared and teared. Breaking will, it never stills, pain that built and built and built.
He just wants it to cease,
he just wants peace!.
He could smell it now, petrol in the air.
Hear the wind, see the light, his fear gave up the fight.
The engines roar, so loud that it silenced his mind.
The light got closer.
The light got closer, so many things not done, so many things unsaid.
And then....
he was starring at the moon as car and light and noise passed him over head.
He wasn’t.... Dead.
He wasn’t dead.

The solitary pianist played.
alone .
fingers met keys unlocking the subtle, sonorous, secrets  hidden within the music .
Feeling seemed to seep and surge from the pianist playing, puncturing soul and heart.
Dim light illuminated the scene: piano, player, chess patterned perch and nothing else.
Nothing else seemed so close and so far as if reaching out to touch something but missing it by nail lengths.
The music sung to the emptiness.
A sirens call in the dark.
A searching scream.
The song seemed to sink and soar.
The man played more and more.
On and on and on and on and on and on
Sailing that emptiness, seeking sanctuary from himself.
Trying to stop stepping deeper and deeper.
Revolving now, a Waltz with himself.
Solemn song sung for a stolen mind.
Poached personality.
Short,secret, pleasures swapped for a soul.
Sanity set sail, a drift in black.
Swimming and flying and drowning with no way back.