You realise your gaze,
As you watch the grace of her footsteps,
While she sings your favourite tune,
Through the hollows of her teeth,
Under the blankets of her breath.

One, two and three,
The purity of a clear glistened pool,
Coins of the unknown faith,
With the leather-slippered angel,
And the acrylic colours of Rome.

The constant numbness,
Hitting straight to my bones,
And the only thing I can feel,
The heavy weight of emptiness.

The state of mind: allure,
A rainy day with hot summer Sun,
With tears of powdered sugar,
Unfinished songs of trance.

Can I fall out of my arms,
They're feeling ever so sore.
You see stars inside the sea,
And I want to swim with the moon.

Shall you discover that,
Her eyes are not as big as the moon,
Skin not golden but a tanned pink,
You could never tell woe and her apart.

By the passenger seat of her jaw,
A chipped tooth hidden behind a laugh,
The oddest tint of awe,
The asymmetry of the softest flesh.

As she strips off one by one,
The realisation of obscurity,
An alien to what you have perceived,
To be just another mediocre heart.

For she lingers around death,
And you are terrified of the dark,
A girl far from pretty,
The girl who radiates like the Sun.

And I shall write for what may be the future,
Or to the daughter of the night.

*As darkness eats you up,
And ruins the architecture of your bones,
******* your soul out of your heart.

A Tardis I do not own,
To enter your space time continuum,
To save your universe from falling apart.

Inside a dim lit room,
Shows a screen of the CCTV footage,
Of the robbery of innocence.

You are so far out of reach,
Anxious to the sense of touch,
Anxious for you to sleep.

I am outside this dark dark room,
I will not bang on the door,
I will not leave too soon.

Don't worry,
I will read you stories of the light,
And you will see the stars of the night.

As you read the words,
I have written about,
The circles under my eyes,
The bruises on my skin,
Oh, all these stories,
Of my cold, little heart.

I wonder what image of me,
Shows up on the screen,
At the back of your mind,
In greyscale or in the filter fade,
As your lips mouth out,
The words that could never slip off mine.

I wonder if you think,
Of the words you have read,
Written from the tip of my pen,
Typed out from the keys of the alphabet,
Sung along to a four chord strum,
As you pause yourself from the occupied.

I wonder if my words,
Ever made you look back through the pages,
Of the books you have read,
And had you started on something new,
For people had words as skin,
And you needed quotes for tattoos.

Because a glimpse of the world,
Cease to exist as I sit in despair,
The contrast of a disability,
Is how I stay aware.

I may not see the bright blue skies,
Or the glowing stars that shines at night,
I still hear the rain as it claps on the ground,
And the voice of a man singing in delight.

Like water shall fall as if I were a cascade,
I may not see where I set foot,
But I can touch the stones called walls,
The softness of my shoes that helps me stay put.

I may not see the colour of your lips,
As some would say pink or close to wine,
But I do not care,
As I feel love when our lips sync and arms intertwine.

I am not a blind man,
But if I could walk a mile,
The land discovered shall be cherished,
Shall it be a journey worthwhile.

The ends of my hair used to brush,
The lowest point of my back,
Yet the highest point of my cheeks.
Now it shall grow no longer than my wings.

As for the different pair of hands,
That shall linger through the strands of my hair,
With no worries of getting cuts,
From the razor-sharp tangles you have left behind.

I woke up early today,
Before the sun rays could kiss,
The surface of my eyelids.

A canvas painted with,
256 levels of the colour,
That fills my mind.

The sea consist of the,
Lightest hue named felicity,
And the darkest called melancholy.

I woke up early today,
To a colour that soothes my pain,
And the colour to causes it too.

I am the dark,
I am the sea,
I sit in silence,
Through the cinematic breeze.

Visions of the aesthetic,
The mentalism of fear,
A lovely lullaby,
The nyctophobia gear.

I am an art piece,
Painted in black, grey and white,
Kept in the archive of the dismissive,
On spacious 104-8C.

I am strong.
Eat, sleep and repeat this every morning.
A prescription given to me by the open platform of a screen.
I followed the instructions,
Of the innocence.

I had lived the day that was supposed to be,
Yesterday, today and tomorrow.
Lived, loved and laughed.
But I've been broken one too many times,
I'm still impaled by shots of arrows.

I can't hold myself anymore,
I'm nothing but debris.
I question "who the **** told me to take this prescription?"
Because I'm dying inside,
I'm dying for someone to save me.

I am strong.*
Words that shivers down my spine as I cry to sleep.
A deception of strength I have hammered,
Into my head
And onto my knees.

My eyes are sore
From the non-existent tears
I cry out in my dreams.
My heart pumps out
Black treacle yet my veins
Filled with tar.
In the back seat of
A four wheel drive,
Is just the same as
On the bed,
And another sleepless night.

The midnight sky is just another
         Curtain covering the window;
Hiding whatever is behind it.
        My fear of the dark is killing me,
                  Claustrophobia slowly eating my soul
        Out of the scarce source of light.

           I’m       
              F
                      A
                                   L
                                            L
                 ­                                   I
                            ­                                N
                               ­                                      G

                                                      Into the sand pit of voices,
                                                               Telling me the earth is round,
                                                      But all I see is a square.
                                                               All of six different faces that
                                                                        Can’t look at each other because
                                                               They are all stuck on edge, sleeping.

                                    I stand in front of those curtains,
                                    The adrenaline to scream the earth awake
                                    Is rushing through my blood stream.
                                    A grip onto the cloth of
                                    The elements of the universe
                                    Tearing it piece by piece.

                                                               Wake up, Earth.
                                                               There’s another world
                                                               Outside that window.

I remember sweet
Cotton candy moments,
But the taste of bitter
Coffee made me forget.
It’s been 5 months,
And I told myself you will be
Forgotten,
I promised myself you would.
But I still keep your
Picture in my wallet,
And use it to mark
The book you bought.