You crouch by me now,

A fake smile plastered on your face.

You probably don't care.

When you've handed me that cash you'll go back to your mansion without giving me another thought.

My parents hated me- kicked me out,

Did your parents care for you?

Cherish you?

Of course they did.


That becomes obvious now as I notice your lilac, satin dress,

Your makeup-coated face,

Your designer fur coat,

Your elaborately curled hair piled up into some fancy style.  


You pass me a few coins with your smooth hands bedecked with jewel-encrusted rings,

But I've seen your wallet- stuffed to the brim with these precious pennies.

More than enough, why not give me a few more?

It wouldn't make a difference.

At home your servants are almost  certainly laying out silver cutlery ready for a massive feast,

While I lie here in the cold.

Starving.  


They all look at me like that,

A stare filled with repulse and disgust,

Not pity, not empathy, disgust.

And you're no different.


You have everything,

But still your sickly smile appears more like a grimace,

And your eyes don't fill with light or sorrow,

Only regret and resentment.    


Why are you even touching me?

Why filthy your pristine hands for my benefit?

You might catch a flu from my overpowering stench,

Or breathe in some of the smoky air around me.  


Well I'll tell you something,

I permanently have a cold,

I always cough and shiver,

And it's because of people like you,

Who are selfish and greedy,

And couldn't care less,

That I'm lying here now.

Freezing.


In your mansion, are your servants laying the soft duvet on your bed?

Sweeping the floors of your highly-furnished lounge?

Filling up your massive bath with warm water and foamy bubbles?

Or maybe they're putting the finishing touches to a magnificent cake.  


Well I don't even have a house to clean.

I live on a piece of newspaper,

In a tunnel to cover my head,

With my money-hat- my only possession.  


You walk away now,

Undoubtedly going to spend the rest of your cash on designer items,

You wipe your hands on the warm coat,

And your false-smile disappears instantly,

You strut away in your leather-heels,

And then you are gone.  


Until the next person.  


Stop and think about it for a moment,

Life is unfair.

I give thanks to those who caused me pain,
And shed the final blood hazed tear.

I speak of night and fallen cities,
Those ashen nightmares lull my sleep.

Why not destroy the ending hope?
Or ride the oceans parting wave?

Oh the sky holds many tinted hues,
Locked away in a dainty vial.

My drowning screams embraced you in rapture,
Sweet symphony to your yearning ears.

Even angels must bow down sometimes,
The moon and sun alike in difference.

I am the voice of untold tales,
I am the breath of an unborn child.

Recall the eyes set hard in stone,
And the hand-prints patterning my flesh.

My last breath captured in a net,
Sold for a delicate whisper.

Smoke caressed my weary eyes,
And flames kissed my slender figure.

Palm against palm we stand as equals,
As two weathered piano keys.

Crush a drop from a fractured petal,

****** the shimmering tint from delicate peaks,

Vivid gems surround acid green nettles,

From a moon gaze as days twirl into weeks.


Procure an innocent child's shadow,

Seize a diamond- dropped from above,

Glide from falls in a streamline flow,

Catch a kiss from a one true love.


Unite the shades of a rainbow,

Weave the sparks from a fire into stars,

Satisfy a desire to know,

Unlock the soul from rusted bars.


Ask an angel to tune a sweet melody,

Scatter blossom seeds in one pure breath,

Enter a palace of wonders, miles from anybody,

Never will one part until death.


Squeeze out tears to carve a river,

Stalk a tiger for an emerald eye,

Leave a flutterby on a leaf to quiver,

Clutch a newborn's first smile- forbid them to cry.


Poise a tongue for a taste of snow,

The scent of a cracked leather story,

Unique secrets that only one knows,

Ink splatters over pages of glory.


Caress the satin surface of a lake,

Treasure the keys to one's heart,

Seize the moments until dawn break,

Keep Saturn's rings from breaking apart.


Whistle a falsetto refrain,

Catch a feather, as soft as a whisper,

Liquid gold from the beach's grain,

Could this nightingale's lullaby be crisper?


Numerous deeds to complete,

Seek no pain nor strife,

Carpe diem, do not delete,

For these are the reasons of life...

This silence deafens me,
Surrounded by recurring faces,
In a room flooded with sound-
Yet I've never felt so alone

But I can't escape my mind,
Cannot run in the labyrinth of my soul;
Out of breath- yet so alive-
My imagination unleashed
into the ebony void of oblivion.

A key- no lock, a door- no handle,
Follow my footprints, I beg you please!
But they're invisible-
Washed away by the moonlit tide.

Painted masks, reflections and shadows
are all they see, yet why don't they realise?

I try to yell- and they're all listening,
Yet my scarlet voice fails to reach their ears.
Because no one can save me now- except myself.
And that's out of the question.

Read between the lines of an empty page-
Separated by slim yet strong walls of emotion,
This is my battle- of which I must fight.
I won't win, but what does that matter?

Stretched out empty hands
and the shards of a broken mirror,
The silent waters break my reflection.
And I have never looked more beautiful.

My pen has long since become hungry for ink-
Yet I still write
with the tears seeping from my eyes,
Long into the eternal night-
When the stars and I have drowned in the moons embrace.

And now, as the rain dances upon my window like piano keys,
I appear just as I should.
A swirl of ink. A jigsaw puzzle. Myself.

For my body does not own me,
Nor do I have the right to change it-
But still, I continue to do so.
For I need a slender frame. I need the scars.
But however much I long for them- they are out of my reach.

So no- I am not my body.
Merely a whisper of the wind,
An invisible footprint in the sand.

And my brain and my imagination
they merge together in a pallet of grey and rainbow,
Until all I have left to clasp onto
are the hands of time, and my steady heartbeat.
Two worlds collide- Enemies embrace.
Bridges collapse and tunnels cave in.

The impossible has been accomplished-
and I don't want it to stop.

What.
Have.
I.
Become?

My soul rests amongst whispers and phoenix feathers,
I pirouette upon mellifluous petals;
My locks weave into sun-kissed cobwebs-
On a crepuscular moon my head does rest.

I chant lullabies with God's own angels,
And soar through streaks of ivory ocean;
My heart embraces minute wings-
I bedeck a dress of finest gossamer.

For a canvas I use the melodic night,
Whilst the smiling stars my paint;
And the alternative for ink is my laughter-
Of which I inscribe onto delicate parchment.

From my necklace dangles a thousand songs,
Within my eyes lock orbs of glitter;
And my mind is free to fly with the doves-
A diamond tiara is perched on my hair.

Dulcet dreams are conjured from these.


My soul battles a war with the devil,
I perform a dance upon a bed of nails;
Merciless hair twists round my neck-
Ebony beasts spy me in my slumber.

My refrain is released as a scream,
I glide up to zenith then plummet;
And my heart shrivels up to hide-
My outfit is creased with fear and smoke.

My ripped canvas is the rain-slashed hell,
My own blood comes in use for paint;
The sweet poison seeping from my heart is ink-
Engraved into my lucid flesh.


The tunes lie shattered at my feet,
My eyes clouded with tales of the voiceless;
The mind is trapped within a cage-
Surrounding my head is a crown of thorns.

Wicked nightmares are created from these.

The poor children of this earth,

Who live. To die.

To be born with trembling breaths

and delicate limbs;

Weary eyes, and a head drowning in stories.

For life is but ashes for the eternally dying

Who envy the timeless night and wind,

Gouging our eyes out to see in the glaring light,

praying for the sweet relief that the shadows will bring

At the end.

For the ending is not, merely an unfinished page.

Lost in the warped letters and

tangled ink words of

an ebony note.

Thus if you despise the ringing wind,

then you must seek another world

for it to become and go.

For when the dead walk,

Living must occupy their graves.

Seven. Silent. City. Sirens.

And the lights turn phantom as

the earth drifts further and further away from the sun.

The sun a moon, a blood red moon.

Your flickering tongue spiked with untruths,

A rose throttled by weeds and thorns,

The consuming darkness in the light;

A candle burnt into the eternal night.


Your mind a tangled pit of snakes,

Doors to opportunities now sealed,

An elegant dancer with blistered feet;

Drowning in torrents of whispered ink.


A slither of ice running through your heart,

A tarnished lock lacking a key,

Fragments of a crushed mirror;

Sewn apiece with angel's hair.


Your soul scorched to the pigment of death,

A glassy apple, decaying within,

Songbirds chant the sound of silence;

Tales untold, veiled poems.


Your eyes glazed by splintered glass,

Pure joy emitting as a strangled shriek,

A sweet kiss, laced with sweeter poison;

A fluttering heart locked within a fist.


Through your veins rush jets of flame,

The silver moon rains crimson droplets,

The radiant sun unleashes an ebony beast;

A star bursts into one million fragments.


You twirl upon a bed of nails,

Time's grain swept away by midnight's shore,

Wispy peaks gradually morph into shadows;

An embrace molds into a satisfying throttle.


Your brain, ribbons of foolishness and greed,

The universe crumbling within a mere breath,

The snow a shade of darkest ebony;

Rain misted with terminal acid.


Behind the facade of beauty,

Some things are not as they seem,

Under the masquerade of innocence;

Lurk twisted, deceiving dreams.