Behind doors I cannot open with keys that never was, i feed letters through slots hoping they would reach him.

I dreamt that he would consume them and one day emerge, whole.

But the chrysalis never broke, and what couldve been never was.

I dance between the spaces you create, the air you shift, my music.

My dad once built a shed out of old doors

Each odd colours he'd collect along his travels, when one grew tired and porous another would take its place

Even the floor was doors

I dreamt of opening them to secret places and posted letters through the slots hoping it would reach them

But they never opened, and all that remained was my father grey and aged in his shed made of doors.

Our souls will remain within the husk of our mortal sleeves, never to interlace, and it shall be a divine and universal mercy

Halt! Cried the lovers who tried to reason with the moon, please do not slumber and allow the sun to rise, for moonlight is the only time i see my lovers eyes.

But the moon said to the two it is not in me to stay for my lover is awakening and she brings with her the day.

i drowned once and to this day i still struggle to come up for air.

My minds in the gutter surrounded by clutter of that which I throw away, each night it returns and still my heart yearns for sleep that wont keep me awake.

I once was the most beautiful poem

But then I exhaled, and with my misted sigh I let go the words that held me to reality

And I flew.

We live in our chaotic harmony it all seems so clear, we cut our teeth on others weakness cowered behind our fellow fears.

To say goodbye; that dreaded word, is one I'd rather left unheard.

Just because you die in your dreams doesn't mean it has to be a nightmare.

Never believe that you are anything less than my forever.

I am this monster
This monster of rhyme
I hide in the shadows touched by no-one but time
From the deep we have risen and still we do climb
Myself and my conscious this monster of mine

I always try too hard to make everything I do look effortless, I am my own puppeteer, too scared to cut the strings incase I crumble to the floor heaped and pathetic.

I need to be led, say what's to be said, show me how to be as the answer I cant see.

Teach me how to learn, show me to discern or how can I expect to be the true reflection that I see.

Can't fight the tears that aren't welling

Can't wallow in the past and keep dwelling

Maybe you'll find time, to wallow in rhyme

Cause Misery's the poetry I'm sellin

Today I felt the urge to fall down a flight of stairs, and when I say fall
I mean,
           jump,
                     plummet
                                   and plunge.

I wanted to feel something, a pain that wasn't already carried within me.

I could imagine the weightlessness I  would have felt as my body relaxed,
how time would have appeared hampered as if altered by my sudden descent.

That numbing pain as each step would buffet my spine and finally the  ominous silence that preludes my last breath while my misery pools around me glistening for all to see.

though sadly...


.             I live in a bungalow

Trapped on my pedestal lofted up high, shrouded by darkness, dreaming of sky, let me dance for you're enjoyment, let me pirouette and spin, release me from my prison it's you're jewelry box I'm in.

At night I imagine you're arms enfold, as it's me I know they wish to hold, at night I weep for words unsaid for kisses un-given and emotions misread, I weep for the fact that you want to love me, I weep for the fact that I am what I be.

Let god into you're heart they say and put you're faith in him, but what they don't know is that I'm a demon and the devil's already in.

Oh how nice it must be too sleep, to lay in a dream that's mine too keep, to play in a land of my minds own construction, to nest in my bed's slumbering seduction.

But dreams were never meant for me, for when I'm in bed my mind never feels free, its trapped in reality how dearly I plea, howbeit dreams were never meant for me.

Too fearful of what my mind can conjure, fresh tortures to use as the monsters grow stronger, they saunter and strut in the prison that is she, for sweet dreams were never meant for me.

I wish that I could cry for you,
But those days have long since passed and my eyes have shed their last

I wish I wouldn't lie to you,
But from my lips it slips and from my forked tounge, venom drips

Everything has history, take this table, it's legs worn and chipped, it's face stained and ripped, it's fragile frame is shaking, from woodworm now it's breaking

Take this girl, her smile worn and chipped, her face tear stained and stripped, her fragile frame is shaking for her heart is slowly breaking

These poems are just words I write to help pass sleepless nights, for when you're hearts not close and the sky has lost its lights.