''I'm not convinced that I am doing it right." the little girl said,
And she tilted the glass so the insides slipped out.
The moon gazed down and shook his head,
"No, no, not at all, my dear, my sweet."
She hung her arms low, so her fingers grazed the soil.
"I'm trying, I'm trying!" the little girl moaned.
And from the dirt appeared a worm,
"Not enough, not enough." was all that she heard.

And down she fell to the ground in a heap.

The problem with bright futures
Is that they grow as dull as everything else.
They too collect dust,
Hold every speck of dirt they can find -
Until you wake one morning and realise you are trapped.

See the walls have crept closer
And the ceilings leant down to hug the floor.
But they're only there to support you,
Because they love you so,
And they do not see their embrace can crush.

Do it. Why not?
Let her down, let her fall into endless voids,
Where the sadness is deeper than all the oceans we ever knew.
You, who she picked up so bruised and broken,
Full of sad thoughts and kind smiles,
She needn't be your burden anymore
Leave her to find her own way out
Regardless of who dragged who into whose mess.
And she has been trying;
trying to remember what it was to be happy,
trying to release the heaviness,
offering exits through pierced skin,
swallowing the provided medication.
Sometimes she forgets,
forgets which pill when,
forgets to eat,
forgets to get out of her bed-fortress.
But I can tell you most solemnly,
She never forgets what it was to have you.

Now,
It's been so long,
Arms branching out to you
Fossilise waiting to be filled.

The hair on the head has grown to the knee,
Changing its colours on the way down,
Bleached by the sun,
Stolen by the clock,
Left to grey.

Could the joints still move,
- if ever they wanted to?
So long frozen in commitment.

"I'll wait." - he said.

Aiming his arrow carefully,
So the two words would pierce though all barriers,
Exploding perfectly in the heart.

Shrapnel flies everywhere.
Duck and dodge the pieces of unworthy flesh!
She left. He waited.
Waiting for the time when she'd return from looking for something better.

Your face doesn't seem to belong there,
On your head.
A child supplied with glue,
You stuck it there.
I don't believe you when you say it was always there.

And all the dimensions of the universe have changed,
reversed,
In some kind of dream land
Where nothing can be trusted
Not your face nor your voice nor your scent.

Watch out! I say
They're coming closer,
What if they can tell.
And i study your face to see if you've heard me,
Did my voice sound out, or was it just in my head?

For now my mind has no limits
It is thrown about by a misplaced equilibrium,
Which has forgotten it's own limits
It's own basis of equality.

So I take your hand in mine,
And your hand becomes me, as I become You
and we try our best to run,
Although everything conspires against us,
And we laugh in our secret escaping.

I’m not sure if it’s a suicide attempt.
It seems all too plausible that my organs are trying to commit
They jump up, far too high, and cut off my breathing
Then fall down
Gathering their weight to slam themselves into the pit of my being
And up again to crush once more down
Up, down, up, down
My heart increases its beating to catch up
My fists clench
My fingernails dig into my skin
My hair stands on end
Surely you were sent to destroy.