Somebody save me
I don't wanna fall

Curse with your protection spell
I don't wanna hurt

Teach me to love
But don't let me fall in love

I beg you

Mercury
Every morning I would think of you
Every night I hated to see you leave
Wish I kissed you

Three months I waited
Now I hate it that you probably found another
I knew you were the best of me
Now I don't even love Christmas

I feel wasted
Roses and cigarettes as I think of all the times
All the times I could be there for you
Hating myself for not being patient enough

Romeo and Juliet
I said couldn't understand the way of this emotion
Now I understand why
Why they could die for me and you

I'm sorry
Please don't leave
You carry the light
Morning star

I was a fool to say I couldn't wait any more
But I need to know
Please tell me
Do you still love me?

Or was the gold worth nothing to reflect on?
I still love you Mercury.

Every time i talk about my feelings
I regret it. Always

is there a problem
is there a problem with my midnight lights being on

i am scared of the dark
that's why i need them

i love the dark
that's why i write out my demon's speech

but i need the lights on
so i can write down my dark soul on paper

in the midnight dark, i need my lights
so i can write down what is on the inside

in my dark inside, i scribe
with my dark pen, and coffee by my side

i'm sorry i need my midnight lights on
i am terrified of the dark

Please, do come, will you?

As quickly as possible --


I'm itching for you!

My words became
knives.
A paragraph,
a sword.
And when I
made
my first speech,
the room
                was
                        hit
                             with
                                            a
                                                    grenade.

.                o
               | |
              /   \
              | ? |
              |__|


What could one do to create
a buffer from the tempests
of tragedy, would staying
In the comfort zone help to
minimise the risk.

I have always confronted
the wind, faced its turmoil,
was blown off course, often
marooned by my alcoholic
amnesia.

I’m back, and on that same island
which ebbed me into a receeding
tide, with little to sustain buoyancy
but my imagination, cast adrift, with
a bottled up message for the world.






Finn. 2nd Jan 2022.