Perhaps it is fated,
has it not always seemed so,
that I would be here
you be there
and the trees continue on their terrible voyuerism.

Perhaps it was always meant to be,
the smothered doubt we carry,
the sights we set to see,
but never seem to absorb,
like oil cruising on water.

Perhaps I have it wrong,
this song of mine which plays like a record,
and the record is not broken,
but I play it anyway,
over and over until the taste hangs heavy on my tongue.

Words grow stale like bread,
it doesn't take long.

Perhaps I have been walking in a way that is not walking,
skipping past the important parts,
jumping over the things that matter,
standing still in the dark puddles of my youth,
staring at you from afar.

Perhaps I truly am the villain of this movie,
deluded to think I have a semblance of good,
only to be consumed by the knowledge,
lies,
that I am the toxic entity that has ruined this life of mine.

Darling,
a whispered
promise
that I hold
in my heart
burning bright
and blue
dim and
recognisable
the waking moon
smothered
by the bright
and choking
dawn.

Darling,
sheds my ears
of their layers
layers
onions
******>many
layers
sediments drifting
downstairs
the riverbank
churning of the sea
scream of my
fair ocean.

Darling,
ocean,
my fair
ocean.

Darling,
send goose-bumps
up my
arms
and
wrap bandages
around
the heavy rock
that sits
painful
and cracked
in my chest.

Darling,
remembered
through
telephone calls
hidden messages
coded pictures
his breath on her face
her smile on his ear
the electricity in their veins
the girl who sits
yellow coated
donned in raindrops
looking to the
artful a n d
looming
bell tower.

Darling,
a mournful song
is it
is he
is moving on
she could remember
when it
was not an eclipse
moon shedding
grey dust
against her cheekbones
hands drifting down
down
downstairs
d
o
w
n
to the bottom of her stomach
sending sparks
fireworks
whiskey breathless
mutters
of
Darling.

I am treading water.

Limbs stretched out to catch hopes of sunshine.

Mouth turned to the sun, open wide, flooding air into my lungs.

Some days I could swim for hours.

The time does not bother me as it pounds against my skull.

At night I can simply lie back and float into dreams, dry and safe.

I made it... I would think, made it through that day, another badge to add to my collection.

Some days the water churns in a storm around me.

I paddle, arms swinging, legs pounding at the brutal sea.

I beg for land to hoist upon, I beg for rest for my weary mind.

And the sea keeps churning, because the sea knows no patience or mercy.

At night I am afraid to close my eyes.

I do not want to sink into the ocean and drown in my sleep.

Even if half of me wants to die, the larger half is begging for land.

Sometimes people throw their floats against me.

They hit me hard, I almost don't catch them, and some float away.

But the ones that I can hold onto make swimming so much easier.

Sleeping feels safer with a pillow under my head, and no pounding heart to keep me awake.

Sometimes it feels like there is someone there with me.

Swimming alone on the grand ocean, just outside my vision.

I have swum for so long with no company I never investigate the human sobs that sound from beyond the reef.

I do not want to see them drown.

I am scared they will pull me down with them.

So I just keep treading water in my own small pocket of darkness.

Waiting for the sun to set.

I did not hear her scream,
from the room within my chest,
begging for freedom,
pleadings for mercy and tight sobs for love.

She did not colour me pale,
did not sap the colour from my cheeks,
paint me of sickly pallor,
skull head hung low as she yelled over and over for forgiveness.

I did not hate the girl trapped within me,
did not brush her cheek mockingly with my fingers,
crafting obscene and dying features upon her face,
she did not cry when I cut her.

I have not contained the beast,
there is no dark hole inside my heart,
I am not toxic,
she is not clawing at my insides until even blood is unsatisfactory.

I am not in denial.

Cobwebs paint her house homely,
the little bungalo by the beach,
walls thin enough to let the rushing sounds of the tide fill her room,
a permanent ocean backdrop,
sand smoothing her floor like welcome mats,
shells dressed upon her mantle like trophies,
all the be released back into the sea,
studied for their beauty, brought to the reflective window light,
before thrown back into the ocean,
consumed by the salty fire,
dug back deep into the sand for another child to find,
and call their own,
before bestowing freedom upon the once living mantle piece.

Sunlight trickles like an early morning wake up call,
and she stokes the fire pit,
spitting embers like insults,
brewing smoke to fill her home once more,
as fire burns her heart black and dreams paint her eyes a ghostly purple.
She is witch blood,
she thinks as she dances on the beach,
smiling in a way that had to be learnt,
singing nonsense words that she is not ashamed to sell,
feet soaked by the water that threatens her tiny shack,
sand dipped between her toes,
washing off so quickly like her forgotten worries.

Just her,
the house,
and the beach.

Dark horse of bad intentions,
I will ride you into the sun,
Let it burn you until night and day are one,
And keep riding on past on your shunned ghost.

Dark horse of my heart,
I love that dark look in your eyes,
That tastes like salt and vinegar,
And smells like ocean sand.

Dark horse of many I meet,
You are a copy,
Of my soul,
As dark as the thoughts I suppress,
And as heavy as the heart I carry.

Dark horse that I would long to throw into a lake,
I do hope you cannot swim,
They do say that sunken ships are all found eventually,
Which I count on,
For when I sink into despair and meet you once more.

Dark horse that I ride into the moon,
It is sunnier here,
Where you can see the sunlight and not burn,
Where the reflective dirt tastes like moondust,
And your heart is no longer mine to devour.

Paint me reckless,
with dotted eyes of unencumbered possibility,
rouged blushes of flushed athletic extremes,
paled hair that flows like waterfalls and broken valleys.

Dream me loving,
so that my gentle smile shines as bright as the waking sun,
my womanly embrace is as comforting as the silent moon,
eyes flash with consuming devotion, wide open and hoping for reciprocated picnics.

Curl me 'round the shadow of your doubt,
and I will be a voice of infinite confidence,
booming with the power of the earth as it spins on before and after,
the titled nonsense of nature, bringing you up to the skies before dropping you back into the hands of men.

Stamp me goodness,
with a golden halo of invisibility,
heroes shine of selfless deceptive gratitude,
blue quake of the ocean's roar, to sweep you away from dreams of darkness...

into the burgeoning belly of the hydra,
paint it homely,
and within its stomach will become yours.