Slilently fade into the background.
A dandlylion of little significance.
A wallflower you can say.
People seem to think there's something wrong with me.
All I want is them to actively pay attention to me.
But they don't.
Instead I fade into the wallpaper.
Just another ornament or painting on the wall.
Plain grey and washed out.
A pale repensentation of what I used to be.
Every once and a while someone walks by and looks, dabbles in my faded glory.
Oh yes we have her here and then again I am forgotten.
Next to my frame is a clock...
Tick tick tick...the time goes by.
Reminding me there is none for me.
Once vibrant and full of color now dull and lifeless.
What is the point.
Cool splatters of washed out colors splattered across the torn canvas that is me.
Tick tick tick
It's still going reminding always reminding me.
Time is not on my side.
Reminding me I'm running out of the most precious peace of me my time.
Tick tick tick.
Like a bomb.
And boom there's nothing left just a blur on the canvas nothing distinguishable.
Over time nothing will be left and the canvas will just rot, fade away, and blow off like dust in the wind.
And then there's is just nothing.

I’m not an heiress
I don’t inherit shares
and shares of merit
just to share it
with the unfairest

I churn to earn
my turn to burn
returning from the urn
I yearn to learn
vernacular of fern

instead I tread
and tread unread
they fed our bread to leaded feds
who shred pedestrians unled
deadheads under bedspreads wed

I **** and choke on the smoke
I poke some coke then
I stroke some bloke to feel ok
under the yoke
I spoke jokes like I am woke

#facts on the graph
mass flashers ***-grab the staff
fast cashers stab the last laugh
flags cast at half
in daft aftermath

The day Acorn met Apple
He stared smiling at her
And stardust formed overhead

The day Acorn fell for Apple’s core
He tore the viral spore
Feeding on her soul no more

He polished her up
Ripened her fruit
He sprouted her seeds

A tree grew inside her
Acorn grew right beside her

Believe me the ringing from their seedlings singing
Made breathing seem easy

Believe in things changing
for better or worse
I will always be right here

On pages made with sunlight
Inscripted under starlight
Ingested by the firelight

Remove the screen to see
sparkles in a stranger’s eyes

True love never dies
And is brought to life
When rainbows soar the skies

My mother calls me "Lucky"
I'd call myself lonely,
lost in my longing for more.

Left handed and lippy, my Latin roots grab hold
short with little limbs, my bark is sharp
but my love soft.

Lumps lodged in my chest
loaded little rockets
launch when winter lands

Logic eludes my language
I speak, lucid lies loudly
laced with truths,
liquor tends to loosen, the lips

My Mother calls me "Lucky"
a shining lucky star,
I'd call myself Lady of the Lake
watery, and rippling

The body snatcher crawls from the bowels of disaster.
With blunt claws and cracked nails,
he flays the space,
grabbing bodies for the capture.

His home but a place to rest, to close his mind
and slowly peel the layers of dress,
where scars of bodies, picked his flesh.
Attempts so desperate, to remain un-snatched.

The body snatcher dreams of meat.
Meat so rancid, meat so sweet.
Some he sells, some he eats.
He names it snatched cuisine.

The sack he lumbers over shoulder,
resembles a black hole,
Those who enter, learn here after
that death lives stitched in wool,
Those once bagged, often gag
choking on the stench of others.

The body snatcher crawls from the bowels of disaster
A shadowy, feared, malicious captor