It's a long time since i've written words in this place
returned just to scroll from time to time maybe
but the words haven't come

as i scroll today i remember a sense of community and the buzz when i saw that old yellow lightening bolt appear in the corner

i remember thinking that my words were empty but perhaps reading back they weren't completely

i feel like maybe i would like to be part of this again but i think i need to understand this community again

I can feel myself growing away
Floating up
Gravity feels all silky like blankets on me

I can wear it on my shoulders in the kitchen to make tea

I think I can feel my body disappearing from the insides to the out
So now I think I am just edges sipping at warm tea

I will close my eyes
Maybe in a minute I will feel different

Today I am so strange

I need to get better at expressing myself and writing here again
I need to stop feeling stuck because I know the words can't ever be completely right

Some of the best things in my life have come from not fighting the crazy in me

Also i should remember that simply writing thoughts down can still be like a stepping stone to something more

I am restless every day
Tell me where my roots are
Because I couldn't find them when the sky was blue
Or when it was grey

I couldn't find them when it was cold that day
I had the wind under all my clothes and I drifted away
There was light in my face so I couldn't see a thing
Even though I saw everything

I go backwards on the path beside the field
And I go the other way
And nothing changes
We both know
But im not on the path beside the field anymore

I am restless every day ******* hell
But I feel quite calm
Where are my roots you don't know
You're looking as well
You're walking beside me on the road now

That's why i'll have you here if you'd like
You're a leaf in my palm
Making me smile
I get lost when someone leads me.

Please forgive me because my own words can make me sad sometimes and I feel restless every day
I've said this
And I do say things but I can't make them more than words
I hope its ok

I could tear my body off
I feel like a ghost
There's something between me and it all
It's not my skin
But i'd tear it off just searching

I only get letters from the hospital

Hello wild, gentle, thoughtful, perfect day;
Someone to lie on grass with
Someone to be silent with
Someone to speak the world with
and the made up things in our brains

Some things that speak to me
people sleeping on trains
paths through fields that lead into trees
people sleeping on grass

balconies
rooftops from trains

all the lives that keep passing me each day
i wish i could know every one
I wish I knew everyone

Paths and village roads
lives from the window

I wish I could live

Luggage on chairs
But the people waiting on platforms are so beautiful

"Last night i dreamt that i drenched myself in heavy rain
And you wrote a poem like you were throwing words onto a page
And i spoke them out loud because i already knew what you wanted to say"

In the night id like to catch a train
run away

I think i would like to not be alone
where are you
I don't want to go home
Often I feel this
I'm not ready to go home

This sunlight can be like a lamp through trees
when it feels like the sun has followed me across a field
finding me with the trees and the horses and small animals
smelling the grass

And I can wear your friends coat
and it will keep me smiling through the cold
eat cereal dry from the box
sitting on a fallen tree
fill the ghastly centre of me
to find it's more like a strange warmth

These clouds can be like some distant lands
And i can be afraid of the mud and the sand and the twigs
because i love them
and i can be afraid of your hand
because it can lead me to the rest of you

I can be alone on the pavement
on the concrete road
and call it a mood and i know what that means
with the houses bending around me
corners on roads waiting

Only one place will be like this
where the moon falls into the sea
I'll feel my heart beating on the stones
see the words sitting in between us
and people who never found me

This music can be like the rain sometimes
and it can be like the shelter
And I will find us a fallen stairway
You will find us a hole in the ground
We can find a space to be in

Along a path
I can touch everything
and let it go
and i will feel how it feels
like leaves and words
I'll fall into spirals
like leaving my body
fall on the ground
in the sky
roll in the dirt
cry and cry and cry
or smile

I will climb the ladder of this silo
with the mud from your boots on my hands
and we can see the fields together
when your smell is still quite new to me
the air will smell like rivers this day
and the world will look like pale light
and you can bring me biscuits on the swing
while i wait for you to see your family
and it won't be normal

once I thought i could taste the world sometimes
it will happen again probably

Time left the sea quite slowly,
little feeling
barely a look back
it was gentle like a firelight.
Watched his friends leave
through the lens of a dying flame,
she saw them
close and closer
and further away
glimmering for those few seconds
on the tips of briefly living waves,
little lives of the world,
little warmth
and little face.
There it falls into the arms that carried it
to this ending day,
all of them,
but really they belong to the sky.

Still it beats,
and beating
and somehow existing,
it stills,
secret blood poems
pulse through it there
I think,
and with all the
forgotten questions,
some like grey echos
in all the white of the sky
and it hurts,
all that wonder;
they escaped us.

Now we close our eyes,
turning each stone to green.
Water has
intended
this human interaction,
built to sink
each heavy limb,
if sinking exists here,
and sinking does,
each vessel then
weightless from life
each vessel is a boat

Existing
there can we see it
alive is a word,
then we journey through it
and ask them
show us who you carry
not all those places you might ever go,
little rafts moving somewhere
on a lake filled with sky,
it is the world that passes through them.

It feels like my mind is naked;
I get this sensation of a breeze changing on skin.
My head is in the place where the trees grow
and my body is somewhere.
My body is a secret
like a coat in a bedroom closet,
I've called to it,
But it's cold and hanging,
Still I've searched for it;
Like a coat
it's waiting to be worn.

If I could press each thought I've spoken
into a dandelion head
and if 'promise' weren't a word,
then I'd promise you that I would.
Still, somehow I almost do with the look I just gave you.
But no sound is a word I could just leave there behind me.
Imagine this tugging,
I feel it
like tassels on a shadow moving across the floor.
Sometimes I can feel them dragging
there and exposed to the places I pass through.
But somehow they blend me
into the surface of this world.
And so I let them do it,
Blur my rigid outline
just to make me something more
than this shape your eyes have given me.

Suddenly my body.
I stand on the floor
It's my home
For now it's my home
That's what we call it,
When words are used to speak
All those meanings we barely know
Where this floor is i stand,
My home.
But there's a body between us
In this world, my home, there's body between us,
Road fence and time between us
And a little grey but not in colour

I was built to live only this day
Not tomorrow or yesterday
And when i look look look
It seems like life lives his life in a tree
Because that's where i've found it all
Though who am i
The world fits into both these eyes only when it ever stops changing
But it
It will never

And maybe if then the world would recreate itself each day
And how could we ever know
In each day some theory could be truth
They all have in  common that it brought us here today.
No.
Nonono.
Only use the words that you can open into tunnels
(but only if you want to)

But where am i
Here
With the need to ecsape
Yes
First my body
I wished it
I wished
Only if the cage were made harder on the ouside rather than the inside
Then i might not be moulded
Pressed into corners and outer edges

First my body
Escape escape escape

Then find me someplace
Oh wow never have i written words like this way now
they are just like
They are like like my feet walking and they take me
Do i have to think to step
No i do not,
Only sometimes,
Now, see?
Words like foot steps on this day.
My feet keep shaking now.

Because there i am
Listen,
Leaving the world
I see this blue arch
That each day the sun kisses.
And at least one thousand faces only
I feel them smiling
And of course there are birds
Soundless ones
If my pupils might draw lines into the sky as they followed
They might leave trails there like a plane
Carry all those lives i will never  know
(just as the world does)

So i kept breathing
The world
And the world was hard to breathe
Like it was made for someone else.

To the mirror and the window
I almost searched
I don't know where i find this person,
Me.
Where did i see them more.

Find a safe space
Hibernate.
When my body runs, barely moving
And the voice runs along there beside it
(somehow i fall behind the world)
Tells me "i need a place, i need a place, to hide, my very own place"
Then it needs a place
Place to hide
You can see there
In the pace
Pacing
On ground when it's too real on my feet and so
Breathing and stepping.
When my eyes are hard lakes and the tears grow around.
Talking talking to myself

Oh wow oh wow oh wow
A den a den a den
A space
My place
Place of my own and escape
Oh wow.
Hibernate.
The smallest place to find some space.

There,
i find a need that's mine
Growing in me
Give me space, but none to move

My guitar my blanket the headboard of my bed,
They tell it to me nicely,
(a gentle falling)
But they won't hold me until.
And they won't find
The softer beating to put into this heart space
Smoother air to feel in this mouth

But cushions and cushions
Cushions
Every single one in this whole room
Scarf pillow and duvet
Piled in books and books
Only these lights could glow somehow like a fire
Little place i find myself

Keep me safe from my own self
But more so
More so i'm sorry
keep me safe from their every kindness.

Little hidden place
Walls of comfort
Holds me even like this body
Till this body shook and shook
Tills the hands that grip it together
slipped apart
and they slip
Till i slip through the fingers
Of the words and sounds that are me
But now here's a body.

I think my back
the bone
Backbone won't hold me up alone.

But there it is i'm not
I'm not like a flag on a flag pole

Some ribbon maybe
Like a ribbon piece
I see a willow fence
Green and life
A ribbon moves there
And tied on a willow fence
Am i a ribbon or like a handwritten wish
I dont know

I can't feel the wind.
But the wind
This thing with the wind
It's told me things about myself
But reallly
what i look for
I don't look, i don't look
And if i lose my eyes
i will see sunlight still
And where it moves
on my arms and on my legs.

Shivering and shivering
I do shiver
I do dedicate my life to living
But little
Little place,

Curled and curled
and curled into myself until hardly a thing,
Can i lose my eyes here
But could i sleep and sleep and sleep in this body
And in every space around it
until i find i am awake.

Let's say that life is like a river today,
You're one of many ripples that causes the movement in its waters.
(You're the one who caught the sunlight)
And I'm a little stone in the sand who gets tugged along from time to time.
So life is this little river and we all make our different movements to keep it alive,
And together, when you stand on the bank and take a look, we're all moving at this similar kind of pace.

So life is a river;
We all contribute a little and things keep moving that way,

But if you could just skip work today
and come sleep in my bed with me
that would be great.

With you, in moments,
I've spoken with my hands,
And up in the arms of a tree,
Sometimes
I've found myself a voice that flows like
sunlight through my fingers.

But there I am,
And maybe always.
If I were to climb down
and for a minute you were to stay,
You might watch me
and watch me walk
away,
Walk an open world with leafy hair,
In safe wonder,
And wind like a comfort to my chest.

But you know what you'd see,
You do know what I am,
In that certain way,
Certainly you've known the confusion in my smile,
Helped make us a path through each smiling day,
Watched me explain my mind to a tree.

There's a weight that sits in my ears
and you've felt it.
Stop,
And when you feel it
there's drunkenness to my gaze,
It's like it only follows wonky lines.

Yes,
There you are,
If nothing else, at least this has all been strange;
I think you see my conversation like this
little person who kind of just sits on my lips,
No expectation for it even to leave me.
You can just watch it there,
Swinging it's legs
and that's just enough.
It waits there
like a little sitting creature.

You have seen me.
Lying on the ground,
I have breathed the grass
and my clothes have been coloured by the sky.
All the little sticks and pebbles I have put my meanings into,
I have handed them to you,
And with them the warmth that I kept in my palms.
If nothing else,
I have moved and spoken like anything in this world,
Moved and spoken like this whole world itself,
And you have seen me exist.

Explanations;
In every day that I speak
and every day that I hear myself thinking
I just keep on
finding that words are impossible.
Yet they hold so much possibility inside
and that's something I see now even more.
What I take from this is at least I can try.

So now I'll try,
So if you just could listen,
(Not that it's ever been a task to make you listen to the things I say)
When I tell you this one thing:
Never do I leave it long
because I long to leave.
This is something you really have to know.
(I'm not entirely sure that this makes much sense at all)

But, little stranger, I think you know it now,
In some kind of way,
And mostly I think that because
somehow everything is strange now.
'Little stranger';
Less little than me, but somehow equally as strange.
Everything is strange now
but it all makes more sense that way.

The air must be cool then,
The air needs to be cool.
This air must taste so much like coldness
How water runs from some wet hair
This must be the air
There on a naked back see the river-wet hair finding its way
finds a path in the shadow line of a rained-on back
a neck is a cliff face
and too there's the walkway
shoulder to shoulder
Delicate walkway
And your eyes
watch for the cave

I won't forget air
I need to feel it on each side of my tongue.
cold cold cold.
air to taste
that feeling
When then and only then
will you have tasted enough of what you tasted
does anyone know?

Then in the deepest moment
Deep within the evening
Deep as though it were the sea
The evening ocean.
Surrounded surrounded by
surrounded in evening
And so filled is my hollow with evening evening evening
That I become a ships ruin
Brought to life in this new way

I might wait on this sandy woodland path
For darkness on my skin
and pressing more.
like skin can't be skin on these bones
To grow and to grow.

Follow this sand and earth my feet know
Even with stick and stone
Walk these familiar strides i know
Finding strange lights, these movements of the earth,
Pass an echo caught in the grass
But these feet walk this ground
This this ground
Take me to this place i know
Find the upwards *****

Here now i might just forget each word i just spoke
Forget the voice who is speaking letters
To a silent ear or from a silent mouth
If i could hear each leaf falling my body might collapse around me.


Find the upwards *****
And when I reach it
I might reach out my arms to hold the moon

I want my stone
It's in
It's a pocket
A cave 
I'd never like to find myself there
But for my hand
I want my stone
Where's my stone
To go into my stone

Tear scent denim on the bedroom floor,
cradle for a cheekbone.
A portable reading light
A book bent backwards
A coiled ribbon
There 
They are me
On this bedroom floor
Under one table
where someone was once beautiful
and then still also after

If the world would touch me softly please
I might pretend that i am barely there
And the world might pretend it too

Is it possible to focus a moment more into one sense?
Maybe could i live one moment as more a sound

Tree branches almost seem
Like they move slower
Than the wind and air
Sometimes
And now
Thats me
Sometimes

But i can't stay
You were hurting me with the bin
And the unwanted
It was not needed 
Maybe i understand
But no
Nothing nothing
No 

A piece of thread floating
But moving past the leaf canopy
And the town
Village landscape
But glimpsing glimpsing the pale blue
Across those few changing colours

Old place 
Where i left my thoughts
I can see you now
But i never quite left it all

One day 
The light won't
Touch your naked skin anymore
When houses are the haunting
And my ghosts were your life

Possibly the **** of the first time i tried
Who else burried a heartbeat maybe
Under stone or nettle
Or in your earth and life?

Still you take me to you
Not even a stony galaxy 
Though that word seems not-right
Thank you thank you
A place that won't leave dents in my knees

Like a polished statue head
Not beauty
In fact
I almost melt
But there's a person of 
A passing person
A barely there and rarely remembered person about it
Them

vision then
vision then
but i must be breathing or
something close like an echo
coz my hands are speaking,
like these words
and changing screens
they came from this very day

my body has used this now place
here
like a human
and.

I'd just like to be just a figure in their bed now
gentle and blending
in softness and calm
stillness
like to inhale

A face weighs down shoulders
Don't make me a person

but please
though.

i never liked an uninvited light
when it sliced through my night-space

But a whisper
I don't know
But i know sometimes there's this imprint on the pillow beside me
just then i picture the walking man i spoke of once before
but no
but absolutely not like it at all
coz this whisper
is like the space of a something.
The world knows

Thank you

Lost thing
i was once scared by the wind in a tree,
ashamed to say but
but
no i am not really
but
fear was breathing.
But let me recommend you.
Sit on the stairs
when you want some space to be alone,
People passing you there come and just go. 

Or when you feel like that feeling you dont know 
Sit on the stairs,
on some step 
Because
All they ever want is to be here or to be there, 

The inbetween
no no no no
Look theres the blue
forget the tree
or remember if it helps
So if you would just sit on the stairs,
If you want to be alone,
Sit on the stairs.

on the stairs 
On this day
There's a cheek
feel a cream carpet edge
And a face like burning
And a wooden smell
(one who never flew)
Closer to perfection than over half of most the some things.

Poke a bare leg through a white bannister.
Fishing for thoughts
Corners and angles.

And
Bear with me, but
If the sky is the sky
And the sea is the sea,
Why is the wind all together
And the wave all alone?

Rain and the grass and the dirt on my face. 
They like my vest and collarbones
And bare grass legs
But Or Sometimes
Peel the tights from the legs 
And see the camping
The caravan moment
Quick and passing.
Hidden away.

But i guess there can be GUSTS of wind can't there though?

Gusts
Disgust?
Who's sure about gusts?
Not sure i need gusts
It might be like love,
Remember
Not sure that i need that now.

Away away
We want to fly there
But who else have we told to go there?
We look there in guilt
But then so too do they
Away away away
Let us go away.

I need to write I need 
To write I
Need to write

Right right
Know
No, I dont need to

It like there's buzzing in my hands
Its like there's buzzing in my body
Like my head's rocking backwads and forewards


I see the open window 
And I want to hang out of it
With my weight on my hips
Just like.
Rocking rocking
And. Air

I always need it now
And the way the letters look when I type
Just fast enough
Like theres movement
Like i'm busy
When i'm only sitting down

Its like the colours have gone inverse around my eyes

Like negative colours swirling
Framing everything i see
Like its a tunnnel

But i'm not moving through it because the end is big and clear
And im already there

I can't have faith that's it
(But there is no certainty though in those words i just spoke)
How many times i've wished i might be
That squirrel up in a tree
Free free free free
But he'll never go far

I tried to make art yesterday
I found paper, tape, pens and magazine
A cocktail stick

It looked like *******
I crumpled the paper with oil pastelled hands
I stabbed a cocktail stick through the lines
Wound the tape, wound the tape.

I poured my tea over it
Poured the tea
And it bled red 
From the marks of a red pen 

But no now is today
Nonoooo  why did I go back?
Now is shaking.
Flies on the glass,
But they ruin the dream
But they made a new one
But they never knew. 

Sofa sofa and cardboard boxes
Like im in a coat again

Where am I going
I'm not there yet 
I want to fly
I was scared to admit it before
Or I wasnt sure
But i'd like to fly
Fly fly

Shaking legs
My eyes aren't right not right
My eyes are dragging too much
Its like the weight's on the bottom
Like a hammock but no swinging noo

Why are there sparkles on the floor?
Who thought of the teapot plant *** outside?
I can see it coz it's white
Everything else is black
But the giant teapot is white there
 in the night garden out of the window
Who thought of it?
Who designed it?
How was it made?
Where are they now?
I hope they stilll make things

Never stop making
I'd like to be someone who never stops making
And creating
But i'd like to be someone who starts making

Spiders think they own their house,
Coz they built their web
On these walls we built
And this house that we made

Hahaha
Haha
Hahhhhh

But we built our house on somebody's floor, 
(Or someone's wall
Whatever direction they walk in?)

And we built this town on somebody's floor

But I didnt build it
No

Labels
White sticky labels
Only found them again when I no  longer needed them

Lets all just live in the world okay
Or even no
Live where you like

2 rules:
Be kind.
Make people happy,
In the very least
Try.

But I dont make the rules
Nononono
Forget the rules
I can't make rules
I can't close it
No closing
Everything just be
Everything
Spill over
Spill over

Open.

Rain.
Rain isn't sad
but the word comes to my head
when I don't know what else to say.

In this dark room,
in this bed that offers me
no sleep or comfort,

In this jumper
I feel my body shaking.
In this warm jumper,
I feel the shivers moving
beneath it.
It's like they're restless,
Or like they're alive,
But they never try to escape.
They hold me like they need me,
I feel them moving under the fabric.

In this dark room
I find some comfort,
All the comfort I have,
I find
in the ends of my sleeves.

Cold fingers gripping,
Thank God, or anyone,
For the ends of my sleeves.
I found a place to put my tears.

Either there,
Or waiting in the mid-lengths of my hair.

There's still rain in my hair,
At least I have that,
In this bed,
In this dark room.

I can't see where the walls end,
But I like to imagine that they could reach on forever into the night,
That everything could be everything,
Or that everything could be nothing,
Something like that.

I like to imagine what it would feel like
to not have to think,
But it's too much to think about.

In this bed,
In this jumper,
My body doesn't understand.

I realise that now,
Oh wow,
Only now
I realise.
That my body has just been following me around.

Only now I realise,
That we all just follow the words
in our voices and in our heads,
That we all just
let our bodies
become the shadow of our minds.

All the places I have taken this body.

Oh wow,
oh wow.

(Shhhh.)

I wonder if silence could ever even contemplate
that his lack of words
might cause my eyes
to behave like this.
Or this stupid
way the air flows through my lips now,
Like it's broken, or made of something
that is not like air at all.

Or her, or him, or anyone or anything.

But no, he seems so kind.

This dark room.

So many times I have tried to step out of this.
I've tried to make space enough,
to look back
from afar.

Like I do with the others,
I've done it for them,
So many times.
It's what I am.

But here it's impossible,
Just because it's me,
It's like I can't leave,
Like I've got my back to my own self.

If I could move away,
I know what I'd see,
I could tell you,
But it's not the same as seeing it.

Torture
torture
torture
torture

Silent, secret, hidden
torture.
'Harmless',
Recurring, lurking,
From nothing
torture.

Torture.

Undeniable,
That it's cruel torture.

The wounds healed
by nothing more than a smile.

That's the worst,
Absolutely that's the worst.
A smile, a word,
Then
healed.

Not a mark left.

Forgotten.
Clean.

Safe,
Peaceful,
Innocent and
ignorant.

Forgive myself,
Forget myself.

Completely unprepared each time it returns.
Nothing is safe.
Nothing is clean.

In this dark room,
Now here I am,

Tears that don't reach past my nose.
The worst kind.

When will it be that I forget this moment again?

Waiting for the blindness.
Denial.
Security.

In this jumper I'm alone,
In this bed,
In this dark room.

In this body I'm alone.

It hurts to see that moment,
In my head
and on the back of my eyelids,
On the blackness in this room.

I see the green,
I see the tent.

Different darkness,
Different black,
Where shapes lived,
Or something,
Or feeling,
Or movement,
Or stillness,
Something lived there,
Not like now,
Different.

I was least alone in my body
then.
Right then,
I see it now,
It was then.

In this dark bed,
I touch my hands,
Not cool but warm
I can hardly bear to touch them,

More that anything in this room,
I hate the warmth
in these hands.

Bizzare.
A strange feeling of fear.

If were to open that curtain,
I might find nothing more outside my window
than wall,
Endless wall.
Not even red, but a dull cream,
In the windows,
In the doors.

I need it now,
I need to hear rain,
Really I need it.

Wind.
I need to hear wind.

A sick feeling,
Outside this dark room,
This house,
So quiet and still,
I get this sick feeling in my stomach.

I need to know somehow,
That the world is alive,
Outside of this bed,
This dark little room.

I need to hear the world again.

Pleading.

One short moment,
Out of this window,
I breathe in the world,
Not a wall but a world.

I find it cooler here,
In the street,
There are silent houses,
Stillness,
The street lights are too warm,
I can't breathe deeply enough,
I can't taste the air,
This feeling of thirst,
But I can't taste the air.
None of it's cold enough,
None of it moves enough.

I want the world to take me
but I barely feel the touch of it.

The black is almost better.

In this dark room,
In this bed,
In this jumper.
I long for the rain,
For wind and air
and cars in the night.

In this dark room,
I see far less than I'd like to.
I just want to know
that the world outside is breathing.

((Reading the notes might help you to understand this poem slightly more... though I can't guarantee it.))*

You know the best place to build a base would be the middle of the ocean.

just a thought

It was last September I told her, I told her to leave.

Help I'm drowning.

that's how it felt

Get her out the road I said, you know there could be anything coming round that corner.

still, I hope you know that sometimes this world has sent me crazy and

I hope you know I have now walked in completely the wrong direction to get home.

but let me give you some advice before I leave completely, it will never make much sense to you, but it will never really need to

When the river becomes starved of water,
don't go throwing bucketfuls of water at it's parched tongue now,
What you've got to do is you've got to plant yourself a flower or two in there, or otherwise build yourself a castle in the dirt,
Something like that.



Well, sh-t.

I have to leave now.

even now I can tell you know I never will
and really

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I always knew I was asking too much of you, when I asked if you might still be my friend.

No, don't go that way.

but you can't stop me
and
anyway, anyway, maybe if I let it go now

It will all be fine.
They will probably just turn up in a box of instruments somewhere.

good feelings often do, but then, I suppose, so do bad ones




What's the name of this tree?
I am having a shower in this tree look, a shower made of leaves, like, the water droplets are these leaves.
I always think these trees look like shower trees, the way the leaves hang down.

hey, hey, remember in those woods, before I showered

All I wanted was to find some grass, and you took me to the one place completely full of nettles.

I'll never forget it



I know,
I know I keep telling them and I know I keep telling you, and him and her and me and everyone, but

He hates my guts now, he really does, and all I ever did was keep trying to do the kindest thing, I keep trying to be kind.



but if I just forget all that
the truth is, when we go walking

We're not even drunk, not in the slightest.

and I'd like to tell you what I am

But I can't make decisions, Annie make a decision for me.

but how then

How are you so calm?
I just don't think about the future.

that's the only explanation I can give



thinking about it, I guess

I'm usually inside this like, wall of, kind of, mirrors.
But they're all different shapes so they don't line up perfectly, like, there are gaps.

and when I'm in a pavement mood

I'd rather have her shouting at me than tell her that the thing was, that I was sad then, and that was the reason why.

I think I'm like one of those buzzy globe things,
What are they called the brain things,
A plasma ball that's it.
But not as spherical, 'coz then it's all the same and nothing ever gets out.

there has to be some kind of gap, some kind of break somewhere



so I've had an idea

So can we all buy a boat?

or perhaps I could just be one

Look, by standing in this puddle I'm basically in the river, see?



I know I get distracted a lot,
sometimes I hear them tell me to try,
the thing with trying is that

The closest I would ever get to perfect was always in an accident,
So I think that true perfect must be broken up into at least a million, billion different accidents,
And maybe someday someone will piece them all together,
But then I think that their life might just be so full of accidents that it wouldn't even be theirs anymore,
And they would probably become so mad that nobody would ever believe them.



So anyway,  when are you going to tell me some more of your dreams?

I'm sorry, I never meant to go deeper than just to paddle in yet.

He said he's bricking it.

but I've been remembering my dreams in the morning when I wake up recently, and I've been finding the words and I think I can keep moving

There's a woods behind my house now, but I don't want to adventure there on my own really.

I think I'd like to know where all those little paths lead to someday though
so

Shall we open that gate?

or maybe we could just climb it
I don't know



I guess really I'm a wanderer, but also a wonderer,
perhaps one more than the other,
I can never be sure.

Certainty is someone who I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting.

I only ever hear bad things about him.

but hey, don't let yourself be too quick to judge I said

We've only heard of about ten crimes in the area in the past year, most of them thefts.




sometimes

I swear she doesn't even know who I am.
No, but honestly,  I think it was just that microphone that got in the way.

Why don't you all just leave? It's not like any of you even care.

but we both know that's a lie
and anyway

It always calms me when there's sunlight on my face.

then all I need is a nice deep breath and it's gone
and I know that

Yes, there is still a bottle of ***** on my chest of draws.

but really, it's okay because it's empty you see



now here's something that will make you smile

That cloud looks like an elephant with its legs on backwards.

I hope you see

And ever since you saw it, you wanted your hand to be touched in that way.

well, maybe that's just me
perhaps I shouldn't have said that
what have I become
I could not tell you the first day I began to live the life I'm living now but one thing I have realised is that

I have probably found more meaning in a field of grass to be honest, than I ever have in most other things in the world.

sorry, sorry
we're still paddling though I think, so it should be okay



Sometimes the world is just too much and I forget what to do.

have you felt how it affects us

I tied a scarf around my eyes this morning, because the light was too bright through my curtain.

and

You're losing your voice from talking so much.

but the whole world won't make me forget how much

I love the way it feels when I breathe the air in the morning or the evening,
when it's like the day's changing from one thing to another.

and the whole world won't ever make me forget this thought I keep on hearing in my head,
that*

We need to just find somewhere,
somewhere to have a moment.

In the cafe we found each other,
I held her trembling hands across table as she told me that she loved me,
I told her she was my life and she smiled.
Coffee unfinished,
I carried her home, knowing that I loved her,
And in the heat of the bed and tangled in the twisted sheets, I knew that I loved her more and still more throughout the night.
In the morning when I woke, just for a moment, I tried to remember her face,
But there it was, in front of my own.
I lay then, in complete stillness, in the hope that somehow I might spend the rest of my days within the confines of that bed,
As I closed my eyes to listen to her breathing.

Autumn
Winter
Spring
Summer
Autumn

In the cafe I lost her,
She pulled her trembling hands away across the table as she told me she was leaving,
I told her she was my life but she winced.
Coffee unfinished,
I carried myself home, knowing that I loved her,
And in the heat of the bed and tangled in the twisted sheets, I knew that I loved her more and still more throughout the night.
In the morning when I woke, I spent every moment just trying to forget her face,
But there it was, in front of my own.
I lay then, in complete stillness, in the hope that somehow I might spend the rest of my days within the confines of that bed,
As I closed my eyes and wished I could stop breathing.

Now the love has left me,
And you're nothing more than human,
(Though I would not call you any less),
You're nothing more than human.

And now the charm has gone,
He too was nothing but distraction,
And faith would never come...

Now the hope is gone,
And even depression,
Obsession,
And desperation have left me.

Since my future never existed,
And faith would never come.

Now I have no calling,
Hardly knowing what to call myself.

Now I have nothing to wait for,
Now I have no meaning,
Now that I long for nothing,

I cannot call myself an artist,
And hardly call myself a student,
Now I am no poet, no dancer or musician,
For I have no substance
from which to build from.

Now that tears have left me,
Both from joy and from sadness,
I am nothing but a human.

And never before have I felt so lost.

Autumn night drive
we follow country lanes,
Singing Queen.
As, in the condensation
on the windows,
We write words
and draw shapes.

And through the lines
we have made
we glimpse
tree after, silhouetted tree
passing on by
when the sky,
Dark as it is,
Still displays
the very faintest hues
of orange at its base.

And behind the words
we have written
we see
mysterious lights
drifting through some distant field.
And I find myself
made strangely aware
of the way in which
the world has always continued
to breathe
and move and live,
Each night and day,
Far beyond the enclosure
of my eyelids.

Behind our seat belts,
We are still,
While the world moves around us,
We're coming from somewhere,
And we're on our way home,
What does that mean?

When we were in the city,
In the town,
In the streets,
There was a plastic bag
caught on the plank of a bench,
And a ball stuck in a tree.
There was a man wheeling his bike in the twilight,
There were walls and walls and doors and floor...
And walls with yellow white squares on them
That got smaller as they reached the sky,

I saw life in the squares,
A family ate dinner,
A man was on the phone,
A woman read a book,
And a man drank alone.

The faster we moved,
I watched their bodies blur,
They do it everyday,
What does that mean?

Is my body a ghost to you?
Am I the icy breeze that stirs the air around you?
Only, it's as if you shiver when I pass you.
My eyes, you make such efforts to avoid,
It's as if they were a memory you wish to suppress.
More than I can help,
Each day my gaze falls upon you
and I can see it;
That my face has become like an unwelcome truth,
Such discomfort it brings you
as the light finds its surface.

Do flames rise from my skin?
Has the scent of my smoke
caused you such suffocation
that you must hold your breath when I am near?
Have you seen shame tangled within the curls of my hair?
Disappointment folded within the creases of my clothing?
I don't know what you have found in me,
Or how I have repulsed you so,
Only, that it seems as though you can hardly bare to look at me.

How is it that the beating of my heart has come to remind you
of a knife's edge?
And my very existence has come to cause you such pain.
Have I become nothing more than an empty echo to you?
A sound who's meaning erodes in it's clarity with every reminder
of what it once was?

My words
have always been gentle,
Yet now it seems you wince when I speak,
Have I hurt you?
What is this pain that I have caused you?
How is it that I have filled you with such disgust?

If my body were to fade to nothing,
And if my eyes were to become so well concealed
that they almost became like empty hollows,
If I were to paint my face in shadows,
Would you find your peace then, my love?

If I were to become cold,
With my skin drenched in water,
And If I were to become smooth like marble,
If I were to become an empty rock face,
with no foot holes and no rest space.
Would you find your peace then, my love?

If my heart were to melt,
And I were to exist only where you did not,
If my words were to plummet with the weight of silence,
Could I make you happy then, my love?

I feel sad today,
And I'm finding it quite different to being depressed,
I guess this is what normal people feel like
when they have a not particularly great day,
It's quite nice,
It's a feeling you are connected to,
A feeling that's actually part of you,
It's yours and you can do what you want with it.
It reminds you that you're alive
and that you're effected by the world
instead of dead
and numbed by it.

There are days in these persistent weeks of the year...
When the sky is a block of grey outside the window,
It takes its place with such certainty that even the raindrops will not take their time
to appear on the glass in an attempt to divide it,
Sprawled across the floor with music in my ears I come to the conclusion that
Tom Odell is the only person in this world who understands me.
I hold my legs and cry into my knees
but they never hold me back,
After a while I crawl to the corner of my room,
And sit with my back against the radiator;
Any warmth will do,
And despite my enjoyment of this warmth
I can feel the radiator making dents in my back,
It reminds me of the way each day dents the week with its appearance,
The way it reaches Sunday, battered, bruised and tortured,
But it never stops,
It just carries on
and carries on.
And so maybe the persistence of each week is something to be admired...
But it still hurts
and hurts.

You're so bright,
But your eyes look so tired.
Are you okay?
Who are you in there?

When there are people around you,
You're always smiling,
Always;
So you must cry alone.

If I could, I would share your tears,
Take half of your sadness;
We could share the burden
between us.

I see you hugging yourself
and biting your lip,
Like you're afraid that you might
fall to pieces
if you let go.

When you look away
can you see your troubles there in
the distance?
There outside the window?
There in the doorway?

Please stop crying,
And trying to hide.
Please stop hurting.
Please stop hurting.