Tonight will be different,
I'll go to sleep soon;
Just as long as I'm not bothered
By the light of the moon.

You slipped off my wings and made me human again.

I am working on freedom
But it's a work in progress
As much as I try and convince myself
I know I'm not ready. Not just yet.

To take responsibility,
For my safety and health,
To pick up a fork and keep down its wealth.
To prepare myself a meal
To allow myself to heal.
To put down a razor and use a different technique
Maybe one day,
But at present I am weak.
To walk innocently
Not compulsively.
To tackle negative thoughts in a productive fashion
One day will be the case
When I have the compassion.
To love myself like I do you,
Will take a long time to do.
To allow myself to make,
An error, a mistake
Without having to dance with my self defeating thoughts
I'm not quite out of those courts.

I am working on freedom
But it's a work in progress.
One day ill be ready. Just not yet.

We're dying to live and yet we're living to die.

The milkman
let me and Helen
ride on the back
of his horse-drawn

milk wagon
through the Square
stopping here and there
to deliver milk

and eggs
and orange juice
Helen had got caught
in a downpour

of rain
and her thick lens
spectacles
were smeary

where she had wiped them
on her dress
her hair
had been plaited

into two plaits
over her shoulders
soggy looking
ought to

go back home
and change out
of the wet stuff
I said

or you'll catch
yourself a cold
Mum's out
Helen said

gone shopping
up the Cut
with the others
the milk wagon

moved on
the horse trotting
slowly forward
the man with a boxer dog

walked by
and gave us
a stare
sitting there

you could go
to my flat
my mum'll
find you

something dry
I said
I’ll be all right
Helen said

I'll dry out
the milkman
stopped again
and we got off

and walked through
the side
of the flats
and crossed Bath Terrace

and into Jail Park
you sure
you're all right?
I said

your dress
is clinging
to your legs
she pulled the dress

from her legs
I’ll be ok
so we went
into the area

where the swings
and slide were
and got on
the swings

for big kids
and pushed ourselves
high into the air
holding on

to the chains
at the side
our shoes trying
to touch

the grey clouds
then we went
on the slide
but Helen got stuck

half way
because her wet dress
held her there
so she climbed down

and we walked back
to my flat
where my mother
got her some

dry clothes
of my sister's
and put Helen’s clothes
in front of the fire

to dry
and we watched
the steam rise
from them

into the sitting room air
as we sat
on the sofa
with our bemused stare.

I tell you I've been busy
And sometimes I've been dizzy
Going somewhere constantly
Wandering unconsciously

Too tired to pretend
Just hope I'm near the end
Getting harder every day
To remember what to say

Every time I look
Every chance I took
Got me right back here to see
That You're right in front of me

All the times I hide
All the reasons why
Get me right back to the start
Take these pieces of my heart

I look like someone hurting
Others they are learning
Not to stand and stare at me
Not to ask me what they see

Burdens on my shoulders
I have lifted boulders 
Nothing that I cannot do
When will I give in to You

Every time I look
Every chance I took
Got me right back here to see
That You're right in front of me

All the times I hide
All the reasons why
Get me right back to the start
Take these pieces of my heart

And I'm never going to get it right
Not in this life, not in this life
I'm never going to get it down 
Not here tonight, no not tonight
And if I never really get this thing right
That is alright, that is alright
If I never really figure all of this out
Then it's just fine, yeah it's just fine

Every time I look
Every chance I took
Got me right back here to see
That You're right in front of me

All the times I hide
All the reasons why
Get me right back to the start
Take these pieces of my heart

Oh take these pieces of my heart
Take me right back to the start.

Wonder what’s imagination?
Where are the seeds of imagination?
That sprouts in our mind
Sometimes dying as a sapling
Or if nurtured, can grow strong as oak
But who plants the seed in our mind
Is it imagination within an imagination?
How can one cocoon the other?
The foundation of creativity is imagination
Somewhere our mind does travel for inspiration
Does imagination inhabit any other universe?
Visiting us with its momentary flash
Providing enough light to germinate the seed
Have we deciphered the brain?
Sometimes it feels as if it is planted in our body
To control the whole nervous system
Isn't it that we are in a way powered by our imagination?
Or, am I imagining too much about the concept of imagination
For now let’s imagine we are living in the only inhabitable planet
For we have achieved so much by virtue of imagination
All that we see around us were once a figment of our imagination
Why don’t we imagine that we can accept everyone?
For what they are, and not imagine that we are superior or inferior
Maybe this imagination will really come true
For, if we can imagine, we can surely make it a reality

© Amitav (Radiance)

~

5:37 am

5:37 am…the morning is silent,
eerily so that I can hear nothing
louder than I ever have before
Not a bird sings as the sun still sleeps
outside of this four walled solitude
Slowly drinking a cup of coffee,
wondering why I even exist

5:42 am…staring into the dark spaces
surrounding my mind like elastic memories
While I write these words
of absolutely no reason,
as if they will heal somehow, take the pain
scatter it upon horizons
that no longer have meaning

5:46 am…somehow I enjoy this silence
Seeing my shadow below,
head in hands on the surface of my desk,
painting charcoal pictures of loneliness,
listening to key strokes breaking the quiet,
hoping this faux ink erases the past,
yet I believe nothing can…5:51 am

I walk past the old woman
who wears unflattering red lipstick,
vivid as cartoon blood,
and jeweled chopsticks in her hair.
We meet haunted eyes,
full of defiant sorrows.

The pudgy little girl streaks past,
pigtails askew, sandals mismatched
by herself or a harried mother
she is either running to, or away from.

The boy with the closed face,
like a letter that no one opens
for fear of what it might hold,
reaches for the same book I am reaching for.
We smile at one another, surprised.

Such small things bring recognition.
We are the same inside.