I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
And forgot your reason to fly.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
And remembered only reasons to cry.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
While filling the world with laughs.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
While we all thought it would last.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
And struggled each day to fight.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
While you labored to hold onto light.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
And felt alone while surrounded by friends.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
And prayed for it all to come to an end.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
While your family stood by and watched.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
And felt like your life was so botched.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
And that I couldn’t make you less alone.
I’m sorry you lost your happy thought,
But how could anyone have known?

I’m sorry that words seem so meager,
And will never be able to replace,
The laughs you shared and all that joy,
And the smile upon your face,
And if there is a single thing,
That could be wished or taught,
I would wish and teach every single soul,
To never lose their happy thought.

In the top most window of an old oversized house, there is a boy looking out…

I leaked my emotions through the familiar window as I watched this slow motion explosion of layered light brightly engulf the sky.

The room itself a simple place, where I’d come years earlier in emergency of a bad dream or scary thought. Now itself becoming a bad dream of a memory, stale with regrets and unhappiness.

That’s the thing, this house is nothing but things, of which I’ve been surrounded by my entire life. Moving from room to room as the memories and anger build up just enough to wreck the room before moving onto the next. An unexplained ****** of compressed claustrophobic anger and depression of a tortured mind.

She is my therapeutic recipe of beautifully placed atoms.

A wonderful arrangement of parts, wound together with love and kindness, hidden behind a fake smile and shy eyes.
her mind a mess with cigarette smoke and memories, brought back to haunt her through lonely nights.

But it is here, in the mind, where she creates the most extraordinary things. Poems and word arrangements in ways I never could, expressing such deep emotions, that bleed from the page. Every word elegantly feeding into the next, delicately woven to appeal to the reader, I could get lost in those lines for hours.

Once again in this time zone.
This monochromatic elongated hour,
Where everything is more vibrant.
The air seems crisper,
Your bed warmer,
Your mood deeper.

But as the minute’s tick tick tick by, like the ants on the pavement outside, your mind starts to become agitated and vile.

His cherry blossom heart losing its petals in a desperate hope to hide the fact the neighbours are flowerless.

A gentle rainstorm quickly enlightens the situation as more and more thunderclouds role in from the north.

The north a sea storm, with high mountains and deep valleys
But here you are. once again in this hour, where you are not quite awake, but your mind is alive.

Your body running through the scorching sandpaper desserts down the spine, sending sharp stabbing sounds out into the night.
The night a seemingly peaceful place, but every detail of a sound is amplified, as the walls cave in, turning into speakers of which play only at a frequency which seemingly only you can hear.

Your mouth seems dryer, dehydrated from all the drinking, thinking and linking of random events in your mind, as a mindless car drives by, casting playful shadows that dance and beckon you on the walls, enticing you closer as they play games on your eyes, casting spells on your senses and messing with your mind.

2 am.

This place is neither real nor otherwise, but perhaps it exists in this hour of the night.