I'm most creative at my darkest,
The pain is what keeps me going,
Without it I would have no will no drive,
The smoke although slowly choking me,
Is elevating the stress,
Alcohol is numbing the pain,
Is this how i'm supposed to be?
Is this how i'm Supposed to live?
Live.
The word it has become funny,
As if it's my own personal joke,
As I don't feel alive.

I want to be an ebony lie,
one that's dark as oblivion,
one that pierces through skin once known.

I want to be your darkest secret,
the one that brings uneasiness
to your obscure and uncanny soul.

I want to be loved,
to be known that has a name
that fits with yours.

Everything's opaque,
yet one thing's always clear,

I want to be the risk,
the one that everybody's taking,

yet the one that you let go.

Stay the moon
Cloudless and glowing
In her naked splendour
With her silver-white light
Cutting shadows
With sudden edges
Sharp enough to shave a man's face
Let her alien ambience
And constant strangeness
Reshape perception

And how stars sparkle
Heavenly diamonds on velvet night
So very many to see
And more beyond numbers
That our eyes will never see
And every moving star
Holds it's clutch of planets
An uncountable number
Of unheard stories

                                    By Phil Roberts