We are but chess peices,
      And the next move is
Never predetermined...


For we are a fluctuation of
      Random interactions.


Fate can't cage us,
for we are  always
                     two steps
That are never the same.


         Your move make it wisely.

Open a door
          and find it closed


on the other side...

But the window was locked
              but still you climbed


through..

I walked in the room,
            to find the grass plentiful.


But the flowers never blossomed.


And still I walk around even
                               though no steps
                               were ever taken.

Inclination is a contagion
         that affects the cerebral cortex.
Infecting other organs in a complex
                                method of defilement.

Once one has succumb to the influence
             of this pathogen, the following
                                 is woeful in its method

1. Heart rates do palpitate to an extreme beat
2. Part of mind isn't playing on the same spreadsheet.
3. All reactions of thought & heart aren't as discrete.
4. AWOL are the rationalities within every heartbeat.

But still those who fall foul of this moment,
                           do not wish for a cure even though
out of ten three prove semi-fatal for a time to these organs.
            They still live,
                       but singular,
                             alone,
                                desolate
                o­­f what made them in pain.



But they will once again look for one who is a carrier,
                        to be once again infected by this moment..
                        

I must confess that I have fell foul,
               and my clock ticks with not one
                      but another beat..


Infection isn't as bad as I once believed.
                I just hope that I contaminate her
                life with more than she infected me.

Every word we pen
             is an extension of self.
For we are a looking glass
                   on the world around us.
                                 Some times dark

others times woven in delight.

Never throw away your words,
           just change them.

Do not scrunch the paper up,
                 mould it to a paper aeroplane


and watch where your words soar too..

We're a  memory in a jar
              never getting full.

But those who think it
         is empty and worthless,

do not understand thought.

For it is fluid,
                and all liquid
             eventually  evaporates.


Causing a storm to rain
          down on us.

Refreshing what nearly ran dry..

Coffee is the antidote
          to my morning
                                  anger issues...


Unfortunately today
                         I ran out..

So the world can
           be quite,
     till I pop to the shops...

As I drown beneath your smiles,
                you hold my head static.
Smiles gasp for breath, even though
             on the outside I'm holding it in.


And  as I sink to the bottom
          I  hold my last gasp,
Even though it hurts to hold this pose.

                    My life was suffocating smiles,

Chocking on every memory of what
             we once swam in I now know..



                   that I'm drowning.

And your
                           gently suffocating me beneath
        your words..

And I cant swim on the surface,
            I'm drowning
within you.

She was the fire fly that I held
                        in a jar of frailty.

But no matter the temptation
              I kept her withheld.
The world that was concussively shallow
                                           without her brightness.

Could I contain the light that was needed,
               it gasped at  breath
                                       brightly before me.
  

There was too much oxygen to keep
            her kept.

                      For when the jar fractured,
her light shined brighter like a super nova
                                               of minimal proportions.

When I let her fly free of her shackles,
                       woven in the fabric of evanescence.


Life momentarily seemed to mean more than
                  when it was kept clasped in a jar
                                                 of visualised reflection..

And every rising sunrise burnt brighter
                      as lingering  fire flies kept
                          ignited within the vocal
                    message that light had rose once again.

My mind is like a full sink,
        sometime I just
                    need to empty it.

Because the words
                I washed up in,
            left a residue that needed
to cleaned out
                          every so often.

Malignant gazes warped the
the fabric of the air around me.
I couldn't do anything but tell
her that to wish upon a dying star
                          will never end well.

The atrocity that clung to the ships
hull, was no less human now than
    the artificial meat 3d printed..
It taste liked chicken,
but..
            there were no eggs in space.

Words like plasma cannons fired
around me bouncing off the walls.
Ok, ok listen I didn't do this to you!
Your the penny that could pay the price,
and this is your tarnished self pity.

I wasn't having any of her grief,
       though it could vacate me with ease.
Standing before her I said I could less
cure her than breath in space..

With that she raged in a language
of ferocious exasperation.
I knew that it was time to vacate her
need for some sort of vengeance.
I'd got the necklace on under my garments.

Pointing my pistol at her, she smirked,
             then a gargled laugh spat out.
That toy cant harm me, is this your last
stand what a pointless endeavour..

Now it was my turn to smirk,
        I don't know if it was panic
or confusion to why I was laughing.
            like a hyena knowing that the
pray had just cornered itself.

With that I shot past her, like a
random act, I still laughed loudly.
And then a buckling ache approached.
As the hull cleaved open like a piñata
hit feverishly by an excited child.  

As we where exhumed from our coffin,
suffocating in the emptiness of my actions.
I could see her fear, no matter her augmentations,
nothing could survive the vacuum of space.
I pressed upon my chest, my nanite suit
encompassing me.
            I was like a new born taking a first breath


Looking at this sorrowful figure, floating
in to the abyss. I knew I was partly to blame.
But now was not the time for respective thoughts.
This was about survival, and I used the small thrusters
to edge closely to the air lock.
                       Time to move on, time to breath deeply.

The diversity of ones
path, is a well
trodden one. But we
must sometimes try anew.

For without walking upon
other routes, we'll get
lost on the path
we've walked aimlessly on.

Though we may get
lost, we'll find our
footing. And then a
new scenery will awaken.

And through life we
may change our direction.
Each footstep will always
give us different perspectives.

Glutinous envy consumed
                         her features.

Once a creation of life's art.

Distortional envy cracked,
                               a fractured shell.
                      
                            Pieces fitting incorrectly.

The Devil never
          killed anyone,


              he let gods children

do that in his name...

Woman have
                  more ***** then men
most of the time.

       It's pity that

men are bigger *******
                      all the time...

If you want to walk in another's  
            footsteps,
           always tie the laces..

That way you can
                    feel the tightness,
  And the holes in there soul.

Afterwards,
            let them walk
with you for a while.

That way they know that
every path
                    isn't walked alone.

If some one stabs you in the back,

               see who pulls it out.

There the ones you have to be careful of.

Because if they saw who did it and didn't
stop it..
         they just wanted to see you in that pain.

If I always relived the same day.

                                  The only thing
that I'd never get fed up of seeing
                                                 is you.

I think more clearly when I sleep,

        its when I'm awake,

                                  
that I'm overly confused???

In a world of noise,

            you were my silence.

And I just listened to you all day.

I was never really
                 a me person,

                 but I was always

a you person..

We are all locks,
           that only a few keys
                          can unlock.

But you weren't like the
                                   others,
you picked mine and discarded it.

From then on, I was always open to you..

People think I'm just
an empty jar
                 with a lid on it.

But you took the lid off,
and looked underneath
                              it..

And it said!

"If your reading this
              then you know
             looks can be deceiving,

I wasn't ever empty,
                           I just didn't
                            show myself.

But you saw underneath the façade.

I was never really
         a book to read.

Most people understood
                me in a sentence.

The rest of me, was just doodles.
                And if you got to the next
                                                     page,
you didn't really know me at all.

I'll never be the petals.

                   I prefer to be the thorn.

That way when you bleed,
            at least you know
            what your holding is real.

Life
is
a
short
fuse...…..
so
never
light
it.

Walking
in
a
straight
line
never
gets
you
to
anywhere
              faster.

To
heal,
you
first
have
to
know
what
         cut you.

The price of love is
                       invaluable..

The currency of
                  heartache is

                  spare change.

But I'd rather
be broke,
              and have you.

I never looked both ways
             when I fell in love..

And was hit hard
                   bruised & cut
         I healed.

I looked both ways
              when I saw you
on the other side.

This time I waited.

       You asked me
               why I crossed this
road again?

And I said because if the
            chicken can do it..

With that she laughed.
      smiling she asked

"Would I cross any road,

I said, only yours to see what awaits
                                 on the other side

I was the needle and
        you the wool..

Before we were one,

                I was blunt and
you where unwoven..

But once we came together.

                         We where entwined
in the creation of what we became.

You where the binding of everything,
               that I sewed every effort into.

And together we created something
                                                  that lasted.

Sniffing her **** cloth,
                    so fresh..

Hanging in the wind..
            
The moon shows him,
               there like flags on
                        a hill top to capture...

She wakes up in the morning
             to find that her Frenches

have gone a miss...

Hearing the sneezes,
             from her next door
but one neighbour..


"You perv..
                "Watch out what you sniff,


Her ****** never went missing after that day,

                           but her eyes did water a few
                                                              da­ys later...

Forgetting that the itching sneezing  powder
                                      wasn't in only one..
  
           and she giggled as she gently scratched.

Every page that I wrote upon
                        scribbling words
                                 syllable features
of the faces I was trying to peel on
                            the pages.

But then I ******* each one up,
           reflections sewn on again.
blunt metaphors reattached
                                    that I had
           been able to remove where

one again back where they began.

All I needed was to remove this
                                 weight hanging
heavy upon my every façade.

Where just *******
               on a fire
  that
        isn't even  lit

Expecting to keep
                        us warm
           with smoke choking
                      our resolutions.

Gather me upon the wind,
       so I may whisper words
                                        of serenity.

Gather me upon the ground,
         so I may feel the footsteps of
                                  another's life.

Gather me upon the waters,
        so I may wash within the
               memories of teardrops.

Gather me upon the embers
            so that I may warm upon
                      the thoughts of others.

We may gather for many reasons,  
              different aspects of the same
                                                  wanting.

But we all have that moment in life
                   where each one will touch
                                             our lives.

I held the Stanley knife to
                          my wrist..

Holding on to the grip,
              trying to warm the

cold metal...


I was there for the whole of my
                                                 life..

But the blade was never within it..


I just needed to know that
                    I was strong
                            enough to not make the

mistake of giving in.


And this was a reminder,
                as the first time the metal was cold..

And the blood warm.


                   Now I  remind myself that
even though I hold a blunt instrument
                          its a reminder that given time
everything cuts...

They said my life was
                     just dead-ends..

So I just got out my car..


Walked over the fields,
                 and walked along
another path of life..

Just because some one says  your life  
                                        are dead ends..
That doesn't always mean you should
                                                              listen,

because after every dead end
                   is another journey,
                   just in a different direction.

Aloft starlight
                      shimmering in
  separation of its kin..

Not realising that everyone,
     is a pre-recording.
           A blink in time,
to tell them they where there..

Then darkness, and they
                 are more alone than
                                        

                      ­          before...

I could hear her words,
              faintly..
       like an echo through water.

But I want drowning.

  When I was in the womb
          I swam in darkness..

Now all I see is
            white heavy clouds,
            depriving me of breath...

The last thing I saw was my mother
                        crying,
as my father
        ran with me, then I saw blue..

And knew he'd never let me drown
                          in her arms..

As late snow fell,
              euthanising
                                    the buds.

                            Frozen foetus
           of spring,
                      never blossoming.

The lumber jack, was on his way
             home.
Driving through a woodland of
                                creaking trees.

They found his car, the rooftop
                                    crushed..
         gusts of wind blew through
                                     the tree tops...

And the coroner and police officer
                                shuddered
      as
           they gazed at each other..

Is it me or does the wind blowing
             through the leaves sound like

                                                 laughter..

And with that another branch fell
upon the already mangled wreckage..

             They had to make sure he was
                                  really felled,
                            there was no warning.

And as the breeze continued the noise
                turned to screams, whistling
                                                 around the pair..

Both cars where found later on
                                               the next afternoon..
                 hundreds of meters from each other with..

                                         Buckled rooftops..

Even there was no wind, the rustling leaves
                               sounded like far away laughter..
                                and the group just looked in confusion.
They where outnumbered and didn't even realise it.

The bruises where torn petals,
           that fell with every word.

The thorns cutting it to my mind.

And when I was adorned with the
                  blossom of your actions.

I would never rise to another sunrise.

In the morning we crawled
            in the afternoon we walked

In the evening we reminisced of
                                      early times.

When night fell we where silent,
                                   cradled in death.

But before it all began
                                   was the dawn.

Where we were just a thought,
       arising to a potential
                           no one knew about..

We are all hurricanes with a tight environment,
             Sometimes we pass each other..

                      Low pressure meets high pressure,
and all that happens is a storm within a tea cup..


                                       But even they overflow
and condensing emotions..
                      that don't descend causes a friction
that can  release a static discharge
                                      that doesn't only
hit once but twice...

             And all hit the ground with a failure of restriction.

Where all a weather system
               of contemplation.
Emotions either glide on the wind
                                   or release on the unwitting below.
No matter everyone will feel the brunt of a storm sometime

Though silk is upon silk,
          foolish people do not understand
that we glide upon each other.

We need not the roughness,
                               of sand paper elopes.

Fingertips dream upon the other,
                   never a rainbow drowning,
                but guiding me to the love of you.

We are the masculine of each others holdings,
                 tightly within the softness that
every kiss weaves between our bird nests..

                           And the song birds do whistle.

We where never ashamed to hold tightly to each other.
              For we are both Adam.. and we nibbled on
                                                   the rib of the other Adam.

We're all free to love who ever falls within our
                 heart beat,
                                    no matter who we are.

All love comes from a singular beat,
                               and you where the rhyme
that fell in to the arms of me.
                                    And together we found our worth.

Love is breath
                         that can be either kept in

or slowly exhales
till all that is left
           is a moment gasping
                         for what was before.


                                                          But.­.
if we can only hold our breath
                                    so many times,

Lets hope we can keep one in
                                  long enough
                        to last a life time.

Woven beneath my surface
                 are the impacts
that never left a crater..

But I still feel the repercussions  
                                     even now

flowing over the surface...


Shockwaves that every so
             often make me shudder.
                                Even though it was in the past
the impacts are still felt beneath me.

She'd asked for a teabag
                
                     one lump or two.

I asked casually??

But replied that she didn't need one
                at the moment!
and could
                   I drop them off later.

So as she slept, I edged closer..
            her mouth open..
         I asked did she want
                    one bag dipped
                                 or two..

She sheepishly said in tired mummers
                                                   two....

And believe me with her mouth ajar.
                   they fell into her warmth..
                          Swilling in here moistness
As  she gagged...
                ok may be I should have
                                              dipped one..

Because now my bags are swollen
                     and I'm not dipping them
                                       anywhere soon..