Watching the day pass
Waiting for the night to come
Wanting the anonymity of dark
Wishing that the day wasn't so bright

No place to hide in the light
Sparkling sun reveals all
Reveals truth and lies
Stargazing is what I want, what I need

Watching the people of the day
Going about their daytime duties
Leaves me cold. They're just consumer cattle.
At night the watching differs.

Night watching is quiet
Night people are quiet
Night duties are quiet
Night is peace, night is my quietude.

Lie back, look up, see the stars all burnt out.
Degenerate matter. They are dead.
What we see in the night sky is death.
Bright death.

We fight delicately, sniping, taking and giving verbal punches.
Our skin doesn't bruise, maybe our egos our minds,
but our bodies no.
Our velvet arguing is seamless, flawless.
Anyone listening would hear witty repartee.
A couple playfully bantering, no more.
Polite meritorious armament of words.
Primed to fire a salvo of cruelty.
Cruelty, covered and handled with crushed velvet gloves.
Textured, cultured, arguing.
Polite parrying, pleasant resentment.
A bottle of wine, remnants of a meal, wounds needing to heal.
Less or more cruel than a punch? This seamless linguistic pain.
Bruises fade, pain subsides, mental cruelty resides.

I stubbed a toe today
It brought back unwanted memories
Intense, unguarded, pain shot through me
Like a lightening bolt
A bolt from the blue.

Unpleasant sensory and emotional experience
Transferred themselves to a stubbed toe.
I withdrew my toe
I withdrew myself
I boxed up the pain again.

Turn the page
Start a new chapter
Stand on a new stage
Feel the rapture
Escape your cage
Just
Don't let life capture
Your rage.

Turn the page
Start anew
Begin a new age
Those dreams pursue
Use life to gauge
When to engage, and
When to say 'adieu'
Just
Don't let life capture your rage.

Life is a book
It's pages to turn
Which direction you take
May not always be firm
Be firm with yourself
Follow your path
If faced with a fork.....then
Uncork your rage
And choose.

The smell of bleach stings her nose
And waters her eyes.
Clean and purifying, whitening her darkness,
the bleach is cleansing the beast.
She's lost count of how many scourers
she's used on her skin, just to get the taint of him
off of her.
His actions were well concealed that night,
her pleadings fell on deaf ears, so intent was he.
He made her feel like a piece of meat,
cheap, and at fault
time after time he forced her to kiss him,
to smell his closeness
his alcoholic breath, his sweaty hands, his rough hold.
Finally, a friend appeared, he grabbed her from
the monster, then rage, fists and threats appeared.
She ran as fast as her heels allowed,  
through the maze of crowd, oblivious to the monster
lurking in the corner.
The monster's name was John.
Her saviour's name was Rhys.
Yet, still no peace not even today, just the cleansing smell of bleach.