Freedom is a myth.
There is no time,
no place,
and no society
where it can be real.

And I can offer proof...
with actions comes
responsibility,
an ethical lifeline
which ties you to
humanity.
Judgement's forever
threatening scissors,
resting on it's pulse.

I see the reason,
I see the logic,
the neatened box in
which our world is
folded sweetly,
but...
I crave release.
I crave a freedom
to break the bonds of
judgement,
judging faces,
judging stares,
judging whispers...
to just

escape

and be me.

Be mad without the fear
of imprisonment,
to experiment
and probe
and explore
and run
and jump
and be happy
and be free
and to not be scared.
To still feel safe
because I don't,
and I really rarely
have done.

I am yearning...
for an impossible dream.
To have a day,
an hour,
a minute,
a second-
which I don't calculate,
and analyse,
and wait in fear of
repercussions.

And that is what it'll stay...
a dream.
And hauntingly wonderful one
at that.

I never want to hurt,
yet it seems there is a
two edged choice.
I either seem to hurt or
be hurt.
And to be hurt is pure
pain, a
slow death with
no escape.
But somehow hurting
feels worse,
to me...
because I know what it's like.
I don't want to give up on
love...
but I don't know if I can
play this 'game'
anymore.
When all that prospers
are my tears.
Too scared to love, yet terrified
to be
alone.
I feel done.

And so, all that is left is a whisper,
a shadow,
an imprint of you.
Fleeting, yet vivid
as scars left over
from battle.

You may no longer shape
my mind,
my thoughts,
my heart...
but you are still here.

though escape may be found
in the summer air,
pressing down on my blushing
cheeks,
there is no escape at night.
You come in sudden
waves of passion, the ghost
of a memory pressing
down on my skin, feverish
and trembling, urgent in
it's hunger.

It's hunger for you.

And I wonder,
is it the same for you?
Do I still hold a place,
a part,
a piece of your flesh,
of my own?
I wonder,
and I hope that I do.

I hope that sometimes
the ghost of me
haunts you.
Not in vengeance,
there was never a need for that,
but in heat.
That at times your memory touches you,
in your vulnerability,
and so,
I do too.

Just cut me a break won't you?
Give me just a little bit of joy again?
it doesn't take much to push me back,
push me back down to the ground.
But I'm sick of not feeling happy,
sick of not feeling safe and sound.
I want to scream with my emotion,
yell from the rooftops,
jump high into the sky,
not just sit here blandly crying,
asking how?
asking why?
not really expecting answers...
waiting, helpless, waiting to die.

I'm sick of asking why and how,
sick of asking who and what.
I've found the cure though, deep inside,
I've found the answer, found the rot:

I bring it on myself.

there I said it! And I won't take it back
what right have you to say
I shouldn't take the blame at all?
I see now where the issue lies.
I'm prepared to take the fall.

All this time I've sat here helpless,
to myself,
silently screaming,
terrified,
dust layering onto my shelf.
And I'm done. I'm free.
So I'm now going to dare to live as
me.

My cage has neither bars,
nor locks
my cage is without metal.
My cage is unlike all the others,
in which humanity meddle.

My cage has feet and
hands and
skins.
It's layer stretched
tense taught.
And when this caged bird
tries to sing, it's cries
will come to naught.

I walk within it every day
it runs,
it aches,
it pains.
And when it's sweet release is found;
it's crying,
masked by rain.

Cords of hair coil from my head,
chaining me like rope.
***'s,
eyes and
teeth...
I beg the sea to bring me hope:

Hope for life,
hope for death,
hope for a future
and past.
hope for me and
whoever 'you' are...
hope for it to last.

I hide within my cage of skin,
yet wish for unknown freedom.
I long to reach out, skin to
sin
and stroke and probe and be wrong.

To be brave enough to make
mistakes,
To shake off all my fear whilst
laughing!
So **** the spiders, death and pain,
I plan to go out dancing.

Dancing with the joy of
life,
the joy of dancing without
nothing.
So what if I don't make a
wife?
At least I'll still have dancing.

And when the ivy climbs this cage,
when rust will halt my movement...
I will not make a shield
from age,
death...I cannot soothe him.

So I shall dance,
love,
be free,
whilst freedom is my choice.
I shall laugh,
sin,
be good,
and dare...I shall dare to be
moist.

My cage has neither bars,
nor locks,
my cage is without metal.
This cage so unique and alike
to all...
My cage that is my body.

So they say I have to move on,
let go,
and get on with my life.

And I will.

I guess that's easy to say.
but let this be known:
it's heart wrenching to do.

For you are entwined with me,
interlocked,
a puzzle which I have yet to solve.
Incomplete
my soul cries:
"I'm not finished with this yet!"

But, to save my sanity,
I must place you back where
I found you.

But I shall never forget.

You are, and always
will be
my first.

Not in a crude sense,
you never plucked this
flower
no matter how sweet
it may have looked.
Instead you tended to it.
and so I felt your love.

Not a disney love,
with songs and dances
nor a first love,
for that scar's been faded
long with time now.
Not even

kind love.

You were never cruel.
But I cannot say you never pained me.
You gave me what you would,
I could not ask for any more
than that
With you, I was safe.
And for that, I am
eternally grateful.

So, good bye my laughter,
my song,
my evolutionary fellow ;)
I pray we can meet again,
as travellers,
on the path of friendship.

When you look back,
if you look back,
please think of me well.
I shall always cherish our memories,
and if we can never again be entwined
in heartbeats,
soul,
or body
Let us be entwined here.

For me,
time will never age this.

ps. Purple forever.

*****
the curse word breaks
from my lips and
I feel the salty tears on my face
drip down onto my opened toes,
blood, sweat and tears
together at last.

My foot lies in front of me
skinned like a fish,
the scales of old and new skin
glistening with their combined pain.

slowly, with a methodical gait
which springs from years
of this ritual,
I start to bind my toes, the blood
on my tights added to the
battle scars of art.