colourblind
to traffic lights
but I know how they're
supposed to look

I walk along
a thinning kerb
frequently falling
stumbling along

nothing stops me
I stay on the edge
this line between safety
and imminent death

the fog is slowly clearing up
and spring is colouring the hills
I'm not chaining daisies anymore
I'm kissing yellow daffodils

divided,
undecided,
trying to hide it;
struggling.

the composer, the symphony
the poet, the poetry
the artist, the masterpiece

the poet
is no poetry.
the artist
is no masterpiece.

the instrument,
until played,
carries no melody.

these conflicting qualities
could never meet.

~

quiet, stolen brightness
oh, it doesn't belong to me
but this sky is your black ceiling,
I'm just trying to be seen
and I see you-
I see you-
I see you shying away, yes
every few days, there's less,
every month the same cycle,
over and over again
and you don't know
how much is too much
and you don't know
when you'll be enough
and you're stuck
cutting those pieces
and you struggle
to bring them back
back to largeness,
back to circular-
insecurity,
phases of the moon,

and the Sun does smirk
in the morning blue.

I know you like your loneliness
but don't leave me here alone;
I'm in love with your melancholy,
your crevices, my home

When our problems look smaller,
the good becomes greater,
the sky fails to fall at our feet.

Drink up the horizon,
pink stripes heading East,
the sky stays upright while it's sweet.

My conscience
carries your voice,
it wears your face;
I'm talking to you
when I think to myself.

So many words
of wisdom and worth
they crowd in my head
never breaching the surface
and I tire of calling them forth;
I tire of it.

So I pull my smile down
and I sit in my silence
overcome with the exhaustion
of forcing an utterance;
I am never who I seem,
and words do not come easy to me.

I can hear you,
the beat in your chest,
it rings in my head;
a wordless lullaby.

I wish
sometimes
that you
could be mine.

But we both know creation
in the cage of my mind,
can only exist
behind my closed eyes.

The fields go sliding down this sky
and my mind goes racing after them.

Maybe we're making ourselves upset,
sitting in cubes of air
conditioned to make us feel sick,
racing back and forth
in our poisonous bugs,
and I'm thinking

One day you'll find me sitting
in a green field on a busy motorway,
singing the blues and talking to clouds, looping dead daises into a chain,  
thinking about gypsies
in their little world of colour,
trapping their secrets inside caravans,
laughing at the rest of you who
race to the end of the world, daily,
eyes to your cars and the concrete.
I'm thinking

One day I'll be standing
in the middle of that field again,
under skies black, void of mercy,
wondering why everyone left so soon,
taking in gulps of poisonous air,
flashbacks to the pieces of history
I'll have to keep to myself.

*Maybe we're making ourselves upset.

The stars don't know that they're shining and they don't like how we stare at their bodies and it makes me wonder if we're any different and maybe the sky is a mirror reflecting us all and we're flipping a coin with night and day, and the stars will all fall when we destroy ourselves tomorrow.

I'll tell you this,
I questioned it too,
how two people could get
so caught up in each other
they forget themselves.

Let me tell you,
your heart will never again
feel so light
but the ache is definetely
worth the ride.

Let me tell you this,
you won't understand
why people fall
until you experience
*the flight.

The overwhelming stench
Of body odour and sweat
will only smell like home
once you've chosen to accept
that a smell is to a person
as a leaf is to a type of tree
choose your scent, for I choose me,
in solitude I choose to breath.

Do not build your house
upon the clouds
because while they look able
they fall apart
like the best of us
when their load amounts
to more than they were created for
they open up and pour
and feed the greens of the floor
and I know they sound
promising to visit
but I'll let you know
don't float too close
because they lose their brilliance
and are much more shallow
than the rain they pour
had you assuming
before.

I want to run through green fields
screaming at the sun;
fearless.

I want to climb a mountain whole
and swim free in the ocean;
thoughtless.

I want to dance among the trees
and sit somewhere cosy,
pondering over love.

I want to walk through this city
and listen to my music,
slowly falling apart.

I want desperately
to breathe in
the madness of nature.

I've never known falsehood
like the empty laughter at a party
or when the people dance
inside the limitations of
what is normal, what is preferred.

Nobody decided dance
had to be executed a certain way.
All you need to do is sway.

I will not accept the pollution
of the people around me.

We were dancing
on the tables
singing
Katy Perry anthems.

You stabbed me
in my left eye
with some cheap,
sticky paint.

I brought pasta
to the party
but I forgot to
bring the spoons.

We were laughing
at our facepaint
in the ladies room.

I miss you,
but you should know,
I miss everybody else too.

One day
I'm going to leave
this in my rear view.

I suppose,
when you have felt the high
and you have also felt
at an all time low,
all you really want
is to feel it all over again
or to feel nothing at all.

So you sit on the side of the pavement
just a little outside safe but
just enough over the line,
accepting the danger
you may be forced to face.

Anxious and excited,
or sometimes nothing at all
and you sit there all alone until
you are sitting there
no more.

Our heads
will hurt,
Our bones
will break.

We ******
love;
Our hearts,
they ache.

So dance
with the shadows
your candles
create.

Learn some
lessons,
and make
some mistakes.

Fire
breeds love,
and flames
create hate.

Nothing is insignificant.

Remember that
there are parallel universes
and each universe
contains infinite galaxies
and each galaxy
contains beautiful constellations
of innumerable stars.

Remember that
each galaxy
has a multitude of planets
and each planet
is made up
of massive volume.

You.

You are living on
one of these planets
in one of those galaxies,
surrounded by stars;

a solid figure
on the map of our universe
among other worlds;

a permanent location
on this figurative map
known as life.

Just imagine the disarray
you could create
if  you chose
to stop existing on
this galactic map of mine.

My favourite version of reality
is the one inside my head.

I know I'm only talking crazy,
we all have those days; pretend.

Pretend your brain is just a stage,
and you have something to prove.

Pretend there are all these people living
inside this world you always choose.

Pretend the life outside yourself
is just the place you go to sleep.

Pretend that when your eyes are closed,
that's the life you want to keep.

Pretend nobody out here is real,
and live like a silent mystery.

Pretend the Earth is your asylum
and keep trying to run free.

This pretending thing is great,
you will soon begin to see.

Live life a little brighter,
*just pretend along with me.

The forces of attraction
can only be explained in
this chemical disarray of
hormonal derangement.

Attracted to intellect,
turned on by clever words;
it's only natural, every now and then,
*attraction tends to burn.

Do not be afraid;
go ahead, like my page,
because oftentimes sad is
the only thing I am,
and if it is in sadness
that I am solely literate,
I shall be sad,
and when you happen
to give it a like,
*I will be unspeakably glad.

Watch as my pale skin wrinkles with age
and the flakes upon my scalp
accumulate.

Watch as hair follicles replace
the absence of nutrition
in the keratin layers
above my brain.

I don't find it necessary to explain
that my cranium has softened over time with the sadness you bring to my mind.

and I suppose if you tried to find
something beautiful inside my eyes,
my irises would have to shine with lies.