Mama should I trust the Government?
Men in charge,
With suits and ties.
Mama, do they know whats best?
or are they selling
pre-packed lies.
Mama should i get a job?
sell my soul
to the money train.
Mama is it true in fact?
man can't live
of soil and rain?
Mama why do i feel sad?
kept cramped within
the city walls.
Mama how do i go on?
When all arounds me
crumbles, falls.

She's journeying they say;
Journeying.
They're too scared of the word
To simply say 'dying'
But it is all too clear.
I'm sure she knows,
Just us well as they,
Even though her mind is such a muddle.
She doesn't eat
Or leave her bed
And a machine outside her door
pumps air into her lungs for her.
When you try to talk to her
You get lifeless eyes,
As if she's already died
But her body kept on breathing.
Everyone can see it.
They stop what they are doing
To look into her room,
But they never stay for long
Even with all the curiosity in the world
It's not something you really want to witness.
The terribly slow
fading of a life.

and only now the sun arises,
he'd been hiding all day,
raising his head towards you
''are you happy now?'' he asks.
and you question yourself
and your two steps forward,
three steps back
lifestyle.
Are you happy now?
or were you then?
repeating mistakes,
time and again,
feet placed on the unsteady stone,
feel it rock beneath your weight,
and wonder to yourself
how cold the water
will be.
Colder than it looks.
for sure.
There had been an awful lot of waiting
around, and about.
And isn't it sad
that out stretched hands
cannot be trusted
to be there when you fall
off your unsteady rock,
your high horse,
your higher hopes.
"Hello sun." you say,
"nice to see you." you say,
"I'm not sure I know the answer just yet."
the sun closes his eyes and nods.
"I have seen your kind before."
he says.

I once lot myself to sadness.
I've been to that ledge
And I'm lucky to say I've not jumped off.
But I do understand
And I pull power from that comprehension.
It's almost impossible to believe it when you're there,
That this could ever be something you might survive.
Everything seems so concrete.
But I stand as proof that this is not so.
I once lost myself to sadness.
I do expect to again encounter it,
But I know now,
at least,
There is an end.

I hate it when they call me cute,
or pretty.
I am so much more.
So much ******* more.
I could destroy you.

I am an intelligent being,
capable of many things,
i carve my path in life;
I do not search for your approval.
I do not need your validation
of my outward appearance
to feel accepted.
I am aware of my own self,
and all that I possess,
so much more than 'cute'.

Save me from hearing
your stupid compliments
None of what you say to me,
has not been said
to every girl before.

surrounded by busy people
i sip at wine from a plastic cup
as my slow life creeps on.
satisfaction hasn't shown his head
in quite a long time,
much too long,
far too long.
i don't remember when i last saw him.
i last saw his face 36 hours ago
stubble grazed my cheek
and his sweat stuck him to my skin.
I wish i could feel
and love
and be settled.
only empty sentences fill me up,
but surely i'm close to reaching the brim.

Sliced from forehead to toe-tip
i am the naked
revealed.
what is seen cannot be reversed,
for all your scarves and blindfolds.
And I fear, sir,
That you have seen my soul.
In crowed rooms you hunted me,
singled out my tattered being for your prey.
I prayed like the mantis
to a mythical power for salvation,
but your eyes, relentless as your hands,
made me beneath you and before you,
to come undone.
If smite i could,
trust this; I would.
you are no kind soul
looking to help the weary traveler.
you are, as ever,
the vulture in disguise.
I am coming to believe
there exists nothing else.
I am only of worth
as long as i am of use.
And lately i only feel useless.