I try to hide how you make me feel
Teach myself a brave face and honest smile
Though my muscles tire of being forced in opposing directions
The power you hold rips felt like spirit and soddens saddened soul

I wrap myself in layers of woollen protection to hide the scars
Though anyone can see the bloodied oozing of my constant carpet burn.
It seeps from out my eyes as I look with glazed pretence
It slips between whispered words in silent cries of lies

For too long have you dragged me behind
Kept me to the fallen floor
Where once it was soft; I closed my eyes and hugged its warm plush for comfort.
Now, it becomes bare
Rough and damaging
Itching my bones
And exposed to its body of sandpaper I waste away.

I wait for you to realise
To remember I am there
Pick me up and make me better like you did in the days before I angered you
Alas, you only ever look back when telling me it’s where I belong.

I follow your lead
Unable to break myself from your grip
Deathly departed in soulless belief
Why do I still believe in you?

Why do I sometimes feel so lost
When even at my kitchen table I no longer recognise the walls decorated in history.
Sometimes I curse the music that ricochets from amp to ear  
For it cannot drown out the sound of my own head
As we sit in an internal silent battle
The voice stirs its last cackle
Its witches brew of smouldering self doubt

When did I start to put so much pressure on myself?
Was it before or after I lost all confidence.
Am I the reason for my own demise
Or the only one who sees me for who I am
Why are some days different
Why.

We were the cusp of devastation
The bellicose swell of encroaching emotional tides
The slaves bound by opposing grip
Sealed within our very silence
With screaming eyes
Layered in film ripples, reflected responses
walking in reverse to the natural pull of the tilting magnetism
The earth turning in anti-advancement
As history repeats to a murmur of distant hope.

I stripped to the bone for you
Tore shackles and shame from its death grip
Left to choke within a brooding storm of love
It was reckless abandonment
Orphaning myself from the last leap of faith
As I laid waste to unresolved anti-satisfaction
As we clashed
As we ripped at each other
As we broke the final glass ceiling with our thrown stones
Jagged words sharpened into hidden shivs

The destruction was beautiful
It was the meteorites that fell from the fire sky
It was the crackle of simmering embers in the morning
A reminder that there was still a spark left
That within the gentle curls of smoke
There was oxygen that breathed, even when I stopped

Yet

I was lying
Lying for the sake of memory
Lying to myself
And lying to you.

I was the pressure pit of a filling gas canister
And you were the loose connection
Bound to my poison
Powerful upon your weakened state
And presidential within your collapsing city walls
You needed me
Because I told you so
I needed no one
That is why I both loved you
And loathed you
The reminder of my broken home
I as the shadow of my father
Looming over you
Puppeteering my wrist
Striking you as the wash against cliff face
Cleansing my history within its repeat

The devastation was beautiful
You were beautiful
Until I destroyed you
And punished you for letting me.
There's never been a moment
That I haven't looked upon you with sympathy
Pity
And somewhere
Somewhere inside
I know I shall eventually let you breathe
When the ocean calms
And the rocks are nothing more than sand
When the fresh footing of another feels you between their fingers
When your castle walls are built in firmer moulds
When the moon pulls me away
When the magnetism of emulation no longer holds me within its anger

Maybe I will say sorry
Maybe nothing at all.
Just watch you
Watch you walk away.
The day I realise I will always love you;
It will be the reason I set you free.

I am flatlining.

I can see my life projected out and witness all of my goals achieved. So many accomplishments. Everything I've ever wanted to do. And yet...

I feel empty.

As I feel now, sitting here with an empty head filled with light from the computer screen. It's so late that it's early.

We all arrive here, sometimes.


When was the last time your hand touched someone else's?

Killing pies at the          of a ceiling,
                                drop

When you start I'll never stop screaming

"PLEASE DON'T SHAKE THE PRUNE TREE".

Have you ever seen a raven fly at night?

It's like straining your eyeballs through a screen door,

as baby moths play with your hair.

You're soaking and you're strung out
but your sleeping bag's been wrung out and
it's wrapped up in a damp rag that you carry in your rucksack

you turn your back on Strutton Ground and you strut off into London' town
like some mad demented peacock, but you're off to rock the Casbah with your crazy words or wisdom which you gleaned from empty matchboxes so very long ago.

The coffee opens early for the bird that scratches daily for a meagre bit of warmth to feed the soul.

and by St Pauls, the ***** of grasping pawnbrokers are gleaming in the frosty air
'pop the weasel ' goes in there quite frequently
you see the emptiness of picture frames in streets you recognise, no names,
because no one would remember them among the worn out suited gentlemen that you became but then it doesn't really matter anymore.

the evening strolls in awkwardly,
but maybe that's just how I see it and
it could be elegantly
I don't know.

and we're back to Strutton Ground not far from Scotland Yard
the new one, the old one's not too far from here and near Trafalgar Square, but you got moved along from there too many times, too many moons and wines ago.

After taking a second look, I have come to the conclusion that stargazing is overrated.

And after much consideration, reflection, and even rumination, I am left with the notion that whatever people think that makes them happy, isn't really what makes them happy.

If I found a door that opened to anywhere, I would step through it.

Is anyone else ****** about the merger of Bayer and Monsanto?

Does anyone even know?




http://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2016-09-14/the-******-laced-history-behind-the-year-s-biggest-deal

yubanet.­com/opinions/katherine-paul-bayer-and-monsanto-a-merger-of-two-evils/