Porcelain skin,
white with rosy cheeks.
Lips sewn shut,
concealing her shrieks.
Knotted hair,
with pink pretty bows.
Smiling mouth,
lips red as a rose.
Eyes open,
staring at blank space.
Pretty dresses,
covered all in lace.
Broken teacups,
will soon fall apart.
Never revealing,
her lack of a heart.
Perfect girl,
with an alluring complexion.
Fails to see,
her and her reflection.
Flawless,
you can’t see her cracks.
Scarred,
only seeing whites and blacks.
Collecting dust,
sitting on a shelf.
Contemplating,
life itself.

The bath water
is the colour of my eyes;
yet, I don't know
which is wetter.

I once met a young bloke
Who went about life as everyone went about theirs
He was kind, gentle, and
a little bit different than everybody else
But a lot more the same as everyone else

One day, at the brink of dawn..
He said "I'm Dying to go to college!"
and when he did
He said "I'm dying to get to work and earn my own Money!"
and when it was so
He said "I dying to get married and have kids!"
and so he did, and when he did!
He said "I'm dying to get my kids grow, and have their own jobs!"
and he did make it happen.

But finally when he was too old to do the many things,
too frail to keep running and jumping like he used to,
He said "I'm dying to retire"

and when he finally did
He said "I'm dying..."
and at that moment ----
He realized that all those years ---
He had forgotten to live.

I am the poem
On the roof of your mouth
Caught in your throat,
I am whirring in your stomach
In the soles of your shoes
In the ground beneath you.
I am everything you wish to say
To bring to the surface
And make tangible.
The whiskey in your hand makes you brave
Maybe this time you'll let me loose?
Maybe this time you'll open my cage door
And be honest with yourself?
Maybe not.
Imagine what we would be like
If we knew how to be honest
Without being drunk first.