I stood at the zebra crossing,

              looking both ways,
nothing not a whisper of noise.

As I took those steps like the
            beetles crossing it a million
times on album covers... silence...


No music, just blood red visuals,
  a kaleidoscope of regrets.

Then I awoke, daydreaming
towards the zebra of negative
                      and plus footsteps.

This time, times? I stepped side ways.
         but I got hit by a I think a bicycle.
I flew over me like a eagle, wings aloft.

Then crumpled on the other side of the road,
             alive but like a wounded animal..
crying in pain.

But me I was a void less crease of red smudges,
    painting the road a ***** crimson.
The white now pink with regrets.
           Like a paint brush thrashed everywhere
everyone was touched by my suffering.

But never the less, I once again walked
    towards my fate, not realising,
                        actions versus  consequences


add up.

But when I walked this well trodden path,
     I always looked left, right, even up...

Never down though. My shoe laces were untied!!

           This couldn't be my achilleas heal,
the focal point of my despair.
I counted the string knots, each unbreakable to this point.

looking down, I tied my lace.
                        awaiting this knot to fulfil
                                                    it purpose.
but instead someone tripped over me,

crashing to the ground, a heap of humility.

But then the truth engaged on me,
                       they were behind me!
I only slightly remembered a nudge,
but I thought that was the impact.
                Lost in the trauma of every parting.

It was them every time, I suffered because
of them. Who are you? why would you do that!
They just looked at me and said, because I can.
Getting up they ran, but fate knew this path well.

Someone had to take a fall, and so as he lay there,
          A heap of regrets. bloodied and smiling.

He said, I needed to change my fate,
                      but you tied the last knot,
                                   and broke the loop.

I just wanted to live, you were no one.

Then I looked at him, I am someone,
    I'm the one who watches you die.

Golden trees with sun-kissed leaves
Wings of midnight cotton
Floating high in cedar hills
Are dreams inside a coffin

****** rose with sappy petals
Warrior wings with fewer scales
Coasting into deeper woodland
Are the graves of the lost and frail

My pen wrote of loss
And with an evasive tongue, it spoke
My quivering lips succumbed to terror
And so on the truth, I choked

Azure sea reflected me
Singing wading tunes
As I dipped the toe of fear
My fear hid in the dunes

Golden rays throw blinding flames
As the setting sun burst color
Broken shells still pierce my heart
As it yearns to rid this dolor

My pen wrote of drowning
And with an evasive tongue, it spoke
My quivering lips succumbed to terror
And so on the truth, I choked

My pen then wrote the face of cowardice
And with a change of tongue, I spoke
My lips would brave the words of reason
And the birds would fly in happy notes.

I let my eyes float around my skull
Like eggs in a noodle soup.

I don't know where to put it
I'm so basic
I see other people in charge
They know what they're doing
Sometimes I probably seem that way too

But I've always straddled that border
I don't want to anymore
I want to be in charge,
I want to beat a drum.

My home is in a vintage tin
Belonged to your great grandma
With many other varied breeds
Our cousins sorted into jars

I'm often fastened up tight
In British stiff collared fashion
Occasionally burst off
When shirts are ripped open
In the haste of frisky passion

In my other guise
When I am tapped
I connect you worldwide
My neighbour form words and stories
Whilst I encrypt some code for spies.

Machinery, you really need me
To start and then to stop
To raise alarm bells
And when pressed call the cops

I'm a round reminder
Of how life began
Innie or outie and proud
Of how mum's body nurtured your
In utero life-span

Dangerous in the wrong hands
I must be closely guarded
For if you press me
World war three
Could easily be started

Through my lace curtains
I saw you drag a body
across the street.