Some days
Your eyes cry
At so much of what they see
And your heart is over full with sad memories
Feral thoughts tear at truths
And chew at hard-won confidence
Your twin lights
Of humour and humanity
Shall lead you back to your smile

                                          By Phil Roberts

Are you a
Narcissistic
Psychotic?
Few know
Themselves
So Well!

Will you build a paper town with me?

Not like a landmark on a copywrited map,
but like a haven for our transparent hearts.
We'll make armour out of discarded parts,
and I'll fight gallantly for your love.
We can fold the edges, and bend the lines;
we can race the shadows and chase the time,
sculpting refuge from the bitter cold
of a rigid, solemn, dreamless world.
At night, the moon will guard us,
with a jealous kind of grudge,
grieving when you handle me,
envious of your touch.
The sun will rise to mourn me,
and lay you down in fields of dust,
as we paint the town with every colour
of our infinite, utopian love.

the moon knows.

she has seen countless confessions in her light, watched life and death alike, and judged none of it. the moon is the one who will not whisper your secrets to the stars. she is just a reflection, after all. limited by her existence.

the sun is the one who will betray you, will turn his back on you, will scream everything you've done to everyone awake to hear. the sun shines and does not care if you burn beneath him.

the moon does not care, either, but she is not vindictive, and for that, we tell her things the sun will never know.

didn't anyone tell you that the moon can keep a secret?

she is not the sun.