I found you, lost
Always-never-winning, loser
Yesterday I tried to dream but reality is drawing closer
False realities shade truthful colour
True reflections show no other
I found you, lost
Always-never-winning

You found me, sung
Always-ever-striving, singer
Tomorrow sees dream revealed but love empty tends to linger
Broken promises obscure good intent
Repeated mistakes seek to relent
You found me, sing
Always-ever-striving

Broken footsteps dart in and out of shadows
A voice in the distance considers itself hallow
Brave, empty words pleading for forgiveness
Repeat
Retreat

Warm caresses in a light born new
Notches on a bedpost with nothing else to do
Soft tender words promise forever
Believe
Retrieve

Heart weary aches for torment
Closed doors and corridors: naught left to vent
Formless silences cling to nothing
Bring
Sing

A song for the lonely
One for the not-so-proud
A song for him only
Hanging silence sings loud

Melancholic misadventures and misanthropic moments make meeting men more and more meaningless,
Meaning less and less to those who undress to convene in the act of adulterated ***.


Flex:
Point!

Sit down,
Smoke a joint,
Go to sleep,
Work,
Eat,
Wash

(sometimes, not too often)
Feign attraction
and smile with your eyes as you die on the inside

Darkness outside


Whilst wintery winds whistle,
the worldly-wise whittle on and on in their wordy way of the other-worldly wonders they have witnessed.

We can but wish that their wily whispers will soon diminish with the melting snow
Or else go,
Turn your back on all that you lack before you step on a crack, break that back and see it refract through the prism of the microcosm of your mind

Colour-blind

Lost

Trying to find


Be found

My heart beats yet I hear no sound
As plasma pumps passionately through my pallid passages and I ponder partially perceptible pursuits that preside in my past

Digging deep down into the depths of my ***** deeds discloses a discerning dichotomous divulgence of doctrine and dogma

Two mothers
Three brothers
One sister
And a whole load of Misters!

As my preconceived dreams unfold in your kaleidoscope eyes
and my mind endeavours to decipher the reasons why
our paths have collided,
bright colours provided
in powder form allow you to avoid the awkward questions we are about to ponder,
so that we are left with opportunities to psychedelically wonder or else sleep
which may seem meek
but we must remember:
despite all intoxication and inebriation
and manifestations of truth and unity
and all things pure, you see
Without impurity there would be no balance
and I would be less-challenged
So be happy with your less than perfect image of all that you might not be
And set yourself free, rest assured in the knowledge that you are courage
And no matter how big, or small, or not-enough-grown,
You are, to me, as vast as the sea and all it has encompassed
As expansive as space but with all the home comforts
And we will be love but not as we have known it
Which can only be good
Because up until now it’s been hard to truly show it!

In boots without holes,
And a soul whole,
I’m ready to roll
Into an infinity of possibilities and eccentricities of simplicity.

I feel fit you see,
To dive head-on into a new song while the melody remains unwritten.

I’ll uncap, uncurl and uncoil into this scoreless spring of my existence,
Keeping an ear to the ground for hints from a distance,
Rejoice in my own valiance of overcoming that dark beast.

I am the animal, unleashed!

And I shall place my cautious paw in spaces where only good has strode before.
Short of saying more:

I feel set free, at ease and eager to please.
From my head to my knees I feel able to achieve dreams I am yet to conceive.

And all this from release!
Relinquish and re-grow!

Susurrus semantics once flowed between us like a river,
meandering and weaving, lapping, often gushing,

Now we sit muted, surrounded by the noise of rivers belonging to others.

Their rivers trickle empty crests of words
to and fro,
                                        ebb and flow.

Are our whispered words muted by your intoxication?
Or has this music come to drown out the vanity of words?

I smile to ****** you,
                                                 in vain.

You’re elsewhere, somewhere happy I bet.

Speak to me!
Take me to where you are!

The music amplifies my audible introspection.
I feel alone, surrounded by all of these empty rivers.

We smoke,
our once fluid flowing flares up with the fume.

We laugh.

You smile.

But your smile soon subsides with the stars in your eyes and once again
I’m alone

with only paranoia present.

A rose in a vegetable patch
Full of beauty, professing love and an intoxicating belief of eternity.
An easy catch from a gentle fall that had been a long time coming.
A strange match of convention, unlawful struggle and a softly spoken warning to the danger of muddled paths.
But paths cannot always be unwound, unfounded love that knew no bounds until it broke.
Soft words left unspoken in place of happy memories broken so often without sense, desire, need.

Alone.

Two Feet.

Two strong, smelly feet craving love but perhaps needing to walk their path alone.
A path less travelled where smiles and promises bob above the surface of a thick lake swamped in envy.

A logic-defying envy fuelled by love?

A love lost?

A love forgotten?

The last one.

And so, there he stood, transparentised  by the lies that have entangled our lives and brought down

Our Skies.

And through him I see me,

I see a girl I promised not to be

Again, Again, Again

and now it's the end and I'm saying sorry for things for which I have already apologised,

We even tried to compromise, find a way around the sly, deceiving, misleading lies.


But somewhere along the way he lost me,

Unable to be the man I needed him to be,

Worn down by my consistent cruelty.

A cruelty born from love, out of fear,

A cruelty not at all present right here,

A cruelty from within, born from sin and pain and personal gain and now loss.


Lost.


Gone but not forgotten, decomposing not yet rotten and before me lays a new life and I'm just not sure

where I slot in.


Not scared of being alone no more,

He made me strong enough to realise that life alone is worth fighting for.


Alone?


Life alone

is worth fighting for?



And now

toute seule

I realise I am still a little girl trying to be a grown up,

It wasn't easy but now I can own up:


I am just a little girl

Confusing messages of misadventured youths

"The best mistake ever made" to her

A carefully played plan to another her

Yet always surrounded by unfailing encouragement, the labour government and an inherent love for royalty.



A red, velvet curtain opened on a child growing from seedling to tree

And in turn took from that tree its very leaves,

But only through inquistiveness,

No malice, despite the lies.

Truth prevailed when the bird was caught which demonstrates a sense of good, I thought.



Renegaded, so rebelled,

Parental issues yet to be dispelled become increasingly difficult through distance.

Dance daddy: a fabricated memory seen through a sister's eyes.

Close but not so close that we touch because after this long that'd probably be a little much.

                                                                                              

First love,

LOOK LOVE!

Next love,

**** LOVE!

**** love hard in the ***, **** them to make them love you and hope it'll pass

**** FOREVER!



Stop.

Breathe.

Explore.


Open your mind and look inside.

Try not to hide from the eyes that want to see you,

Be You!

Try to understand you!

Peel your bleeding fingers from your sodden face and let you in.
                                                                                              


Incessant chatting in a circle of moon-eyed 'lovers'.

Mutinies, epiphanies, breakfast with balloon families,

Lest we forget the lies,

Ducking,

Diving,

More *******,

Skiving,

Writhing,

Without Guilt,

Much to everyone else's dismay!

He loves you, they'll say

But it didn't work out that way.

That one, he wasn't strong

And when things went wrong, he'd hit a ****.

And I'd disappear with the smoke

A nice bloke, just not for me.


And so, love number three

A write, a poet,

Inner turmoil, didn't show it.

Left home and ran but this one he took my hand,

And I'd open up his windows with the curtains closed.

Retrieve this wondrous creature from his pit of self-doubt.

And that inner-turmoil?

I think it came out.

The story doesn't end there,

But right now that's all I'm willing to share!

I come from a silly idea


I come from running away, wanting to stay, not knowing the way

I come from choo-choo trains, My Little Pony manes, and a book of baby's names

I come from wetting the bed,

I come from sharp pains in the head to darkness and bright pills

To bright light


From passionate nights with him and him and him

I come from within

without doubt

I come from my mum

I come from a finger in my ***!

I come from beauty and deceit

I come whole yet incomplete

I come from smelly feet


I come from you, the I-don't-know-who

I come from books and looks and regretful *****

I come from mistakes,

I come from misinterpretation,

I come from "Miss! I don't understand!"

I come from a faraway land to here.


I come from a silly idea.