I can write yet I can't speak
I am strong yet I'm weak
I can express my thoughts on this page
Yet I am truly hesitant of the stage

My thoughts abound
Yet my voice finds no sound
I am quiet within the roars of crowds
Yet my mind soars above clouds

Though at times I wish to change
And my silent voice rearrange
I'm more creative due to compliance
I hear more due to silence

I remain humble behind the scenes
Trapped in the confines of my dreams
Whether by fear or by choice
I possess a silent voice

He presents what you see
with impeccable finesse.
He hides everything else behind the curtains.
Heavily veiled by his smiles...
Cleverly masked behind his script.

He stands elevated, taking his stage.
From his vantage he sees all.
He allows his facade to bask in the light...
Whilst keeping his back in the shadow.

He's renowned.
By the light that kills the dark.
He's addicted to the nightly ovations,
cascading cheers and gleaming reviews.

But every show has an end.
Come every dawn, he wakes to the reality
that tolls at his door.
He's owned and he knows it...
Too well,
by the stage he built
and the drama he wrote and casted.

I wish it were him instead of my blanket holding me.

This Jellyfish that floats along
trying to confidently stay strong
is distinctly sad, so often it feels like
it could just sting itself,
but it does *not.

It floats along.

Warmth is what we crave, our hearts fuel to the fire, caressing one another's flesh, taking each other higher, fight my bruising kisses, let me tease you as I mar, that which I do worship, every heartbeat, every scar, cage my hand inside yours, hold me tighter than you dare, constrict around my heart my love, it's open and it's bared.

It was called "The Right Of Spring"
I was scared, excited, elated
Taking my place on the stage above the footlights,
I shook, like an earthquake of the soul
I'd danced this piece several times before, but never in front of such a number of eyes
The other dancers seemed fine
We'd practiced for 8 months for this particular show
We were to perform twice daily, for 3 days
Hard, excruciating work
But such is the dance
I began to sweat profusely, I felt the blood draining from my face
And right at the second turn,
I hit the floor with a thud.
Becoming human