Weeks I spent looking out of windows,

Light passed with minutes to days,

Sitting,

A million times I’ve sat like this

Begging the adventures I’ve imagined,

Memories my closest friends,

Desire – only possesing.

A passenger sitting silently

Black nights with their blanket of silence,

Life moving past stories not unfolding,

Claustraphobia the silent anxiety,

Screaming.

Spring passes it’s peak,

I wonder,

Standing on the edge of time,

Summer’s siestas are boring.

Distance has found its partner,

For that separation we wait

We could touch,

But what would be the point.

Still light explains nothing,

Just movement,

The glowing is a fiction

Fairies on flowers, sweet visions for children,

Fantasies for me,

Dear, dear life,

I’m sitting,

Weeks, minutes, days,

Sitting.

Despite the remarks of David Hume,
I am quite aware of myself.
I can’t see my eyes but through them.

And every day, as different as the days may be,
Time passes through their lens
Time passes that is, for me.

Despite understanding fragmented reality,
I have to make decisions.
Seeing that all of being is quite remote,
The choices made are choices that affect one body, not many
I ‘m sure that’s me -
And I am passing.

But, and as the case may be,
Pieces here I come:
In me that is one; there is more than one,
For I don’t know the discrete emotion that you know,
The nudge you feel to move, to stay, to go, quietly.

Different parts all rule their nests,
They are young and intemperate –
And that reader, makes living somewhat unblessed.
Decisions by different rulers can be, it is thought
Incongruent.

Different times different monarchs with changing interests,
Crowns of petal, crowns of thorn, crowns of fire
Different crowns on different heads, but one.

One body, one person one identity,
I am ruled by many
And being ruled by many ruling me is hard.

“You know you need a note from your doctor”

We’ll sell you dreams,

We can sell your dreams,

We’ll sell your dreams,

We can sell you your dreams.

And they vanished as pen came to paper,

The first word written was an anomaly,

Religion intervened, the mystical value,

They’re now a creed.


“I’m sorry I’m not authorised to do that,

I’ll need to speak to a supervisor”

Walking out the door, I wondered, had I seen that face,

For every person, another abstraction,

Human numbers, forget the race.

“They sold your dreams to me friend,

Can I share, no, I’m alone here,

I need to believe in something”

I’m number one.