dawn chorus awakes
the tired mind revolts' groans
pillow over  ears

the small meaness of it
shocked me,  really in
this day and age
you would think
we had worked our way
past this sort of petty thinking

but no, apperently there are still
social neanderthals out there
who, when seeing some one different
have to poke fun at them,

before i could voice my outrage
at their actions my boy came
to the defense of his friend
standing up and calmly saying
difference is good, if we were all bullies
like you...then the world would be horrible
then taking the hand of his friend
he turned his back on the instigators
and walked back over to me

never have i been prouder

the irregular rhythm
of the wood windchimes
lulls me into a sort of sleep
one where dreams are based
on worried realities yet
magnified in a daliesque manner
all bent out of shape and pooling
at my feet, in garish coloured mists
whist in the background something whispers
"tis the gloaming upon us resist, resist!"

and the chorus line of purring cats
play with prawnheads and green tree frogs

i feel myself drowning in these mists, that
smell like fresh baked chocolate cake
and i try to care,
but sleep overcomes me
and the dreams slipside away
until  i awaken
in the cooler part of the day
and recall with haziness
the heat of earlier
and the swirl of the dreams .

the cat sits, staring at me, purring,
at its feet a toy mouse,
and i smell chocolate cake,
being baked by son and husband...
all apparently  is normal
with the exception of
the irregular rhythm
of the wood windchime.

father is at work
mother feels her hurt
father washes pain away with red smelling drinks
mother with her drugs
father is never here
mother is always here
the way the earth turns, they’re still both the light in my world.

chipping, chipping away are the corners of our lives
peeling off every day is the motion of the tides
biting and scratching and screeching is the sound of those in pain
my nails tell a story of earth, that’s it. simple and plain

Waiting, waiting, more and more waiting.
All I do is wait.
All this life is forming to is a list of things.
Things that make me wait.
Patience is key they said.
You'll be happy in the end they said.

Im still waiting.

Waiting for my crown,
my glory,
my fall
my failure.

All in good time.

sometimes my pain
is yelling at my family
not even remembering why
sometimes my anger
is crying in my room alone
being careful not to make a sound
sometimes my sadness
is standing in the rain
wishing it would wash me away
sometimes my depression
is lying in bed and wanting to get up
but not being able to lift the chains
sometimes my breath
is stolen from my lungs
feeling all of this at once
sometimes my mind
is numb and empty
feeling nothing at all
sometimes im just... there
not feeling anything
but not feeling nothing
and sometimes in those moments
i wish i was dead.