I drove the ***** like
     I'd stolen her..

Her gps all ****** up..

And afterwards as she
      lay fatigued.

Saying she'd been used
like a wheel spin
                             burn out.

He may swallow your sins,
                               but if he spits


there's hell to pay...

Were the pancakes,
       and corona

is the syrup

lets spread it like
we eating out..

And were lungs are burnt...

I'll never eat out...


But ill wash my hands
           every time your
  cough pops up...

I'm a pathological
                        liar..

prove me wrong..

I live for a world without,
                            dependency
on imaginary friends..

Because at the moment,


Twelve Thousand gods fight
        for ******* of your will...


To be hateful and **** for them...

I used to believe in the tooth fairy,
             and Santa...


But the reality is some mother *******
                grow the **** up.....


I read fairy tales but I don't,
                     ****, hate..
Morality of fallen morals
      in imaginary words..

People need to recognise,
      that every story is just
a third hand view..

Rewrote from the reflections of
           that time.

But some are sheep and some
      are wolves...

But the wolves never feed,
they
    just try to prune the wool
over others eyes to let them howl
                                     at the moon..

keep me in mind,
               show me your smile.

I'll show you my teeth..

My pen is my shield,


and my words
             my armour.

All wording not overly conveyed,
              I'm no dictionary.

My pen is my shield and my words
             my armour.

Sometimes dented, ridiculed,
            so not as lustrous as your

vocabulary giving,

but every symbolism
          I give in jest.

I can be a clown, watch my words prance on
              the page in fruitful

colouring of metaphor.

But other times I'm in the size seven
of another's outlook not my own,
emotion grazing my subconscious.

         For that fraction of eternity I'm them, you
I live there fears,  hopes wishes that die after I put the
                                                                ­             pen down.

Don't judge a piece of paper that has nothing on it,
           for will have a doodle, a thought..

A drawing of emotion entwined within its fabric.

   But you just ridicule, turn the page not knowing
                     the pain or joyful happiness
that went to create this...

Yes its not in your taste, but its there's, mine.

Were just artists of our own little world,
             and if you happen to land here.

Please be green..


   Recycle what you think,
and be positive,
    really do reflect on what others foresee.

We must first see what is the
achievable end  

     to first catch the glimmer of hope.


Of what started at the beginning
            and realise that to go forward
we must readjust.

But to change we must stare at the abyss
                           of our consequences,  
to realise that without diversity we'll
                            never transition beyond now.

This wasn't what he'd expected, since a wee little one,
       contorting the edges of fallen wood made thin.
What was rectangle became a triangle,
           what was just plain became more.

No fingers were used, a mind is a wonderous thing,
                                 Never wasted on this little one.
    
Creation, Imagination, as parchment clean crisp,
contorted to conception. But when it went wrong
            it rained snow flakes of ruptured imaginings,

Jagged and torn, papercutting those close.

Tears fell from his eyes as sorrow for skin bleed
not deep, but any more would have been a torment.

A thousand papercuts from a moment of
            frustration could turn paper crimson.

From that interim, knowing the power paper
had, be it words shapes, meaning.
       Learning that contours have potential and
wording on it was a powerful influence on others.

So began his journey as origami butterflies
             fluttering around him, calmness followed.
            Here child, as he handed a swan, and it swam
upon the innocence of there hand, and he walked onward.

Incandescent hues flutter around me,
          as nightfall's beauty graces
my  every sight.

This silhouette, a partner of illumination,
          still feeling the days touch even
                   though set beneath eventide.

Looking up the moonlight bathes
           my thoughts,

                                     and I'm at peace.

If we were the mirror of our creation
                and not made in perfect silhouettes.

Then we aren't the creation of perfection,
                           as were flawed beyond our sell by date.

Then that which made us is imperfect in its design.
                  So not omnipotent,
  flawed in its own blueprint.

And so just another pebble in
A dry pond where wishes die.

For he hurled  the stone,
                            casting it with anger...


And so the first sin was sewn..
                   For the wrath of another showed
that we were the picture of god,


If we were imperfect,
                then our creation was flawed
beyond the reflection of our birth.

The stone was never perfect but
                    flawed when created.

Hit & run..

The moment were surrounded
          by deep breaths of nothingness.

But we swear we
                    can feel it touching our neck..

                               was that you..

                               wait no ones here..
oh' ****...
                                         silence....

The tears that razor emotions bleed,
                  can we ever recover from

those momentary eclipses

that smother light from the darkest needing..
                                                               Silence...

Deeply suicidal
                                               and
momentarily insane.

for the need to drown
out the noise of depression.


I fall into the crest of every wave,
             hoping each will


wash my pain away.

But the reality is I



drown deeper.

When the hands motion words silent,
                               but full of forlorn grief.

They cry for love that was muted,
    but looks are glazed
   as there last breath whimpered silently.

And the words dead to ears,
                        "I love you,

As they walk out the door,
                                  crying at there loss.

Death is beauty,
               as the rose atop of death
feeds on the nourishment of
                                   an empty shell.


Even though its petals decay,
                              its reaches higher

than the tomb
                      to bring life crimson to the surface.

A kiss given when
                  the lips are

cold.

I stare into there void less  eyes,
           but my touch is warm.

Brisk bones bend in the wind,
           as frail memories
fall beneath me.

Every one in a moment of decay.

No longer apart of me,

  but a skeleton figure

                         of a past,
brighter and full of life.

My mind
a cadaver of
              reflections.
              Decomposing
within a coffin
                        of white..

I was the moon
      and you the earth.

Our children the oceans,
  ebbing and flowing between us.

We are the gravity of there actions.

  Teaching that every crest
will always collect on
                grains of knowledge.

If you were the breeze,
           I'd be the tree

swaying to your words..

And my tears would be
          leaves falling when
  

I couldn't feel you upon me.

I could live a thousand years,
         but the rain will always

have more stories in one droplet
        than the lifetime of humanity.

I shed a tear,
                              evaporating  

it joins the story,

          and then I die..

Solitary with you
                  was lonely.

I didn't really know

                   my cell mate.

An immigrant took our
                                    jobs.
        
                   I never saw it..  
  But It gave me a cough..

I'm so lit
you get a fake tan
             of my words.

                          But there so fake  
that it washes of quickly...

Woeful glazes sitting idle  
                       for is one meant to be burdening  another,
And when the idleness
                          breaks free then all shall falter

The smell of sulphate,
            emanating from that
accursed thing, its aura glistened,
                  seemingly smouldering .

But when the  breath of life
                    died beneath sunset,
A Spector of ill conceived retention
                                             contemplated.



Daybreak was mutilated upon the sight.
                                            established placidity..

An avalanche of empathy
             dislodged
covering me in suffocating
                                realisation.

That I wasn't the mountain,
       more the snow.
               Soft and delicate,
   sentiment never compacted enough.

Cradle song woven upon
a mothers arms,
                        no tears,
      no cries.

Just mothers tears,
         cuddling her baby.

No  fret just stillness,
                        she sings
           her to peace...

I looked out at the street,
      hoping for footsteps

coming up the path..

But all I heard was
            therapy sessions..

Plush knots tie delicately,
gentle around the neck..

   death never felt so soft,

                                               silence..

A masquerade of perpetual fear,
          for all steps were in unison.
For who would misstep with
         unkept flames catching
                        each indiscretion.

Hollow melodies capture the soul,
           bounding it with this dance
of the dead, neither a  choreography
         but a chain of resonance
        where bones scrunch in fatigue.

The hell fire ball, where all burn eventually,
        Singed gowns, and suits charred.
But the devil is in the details,
and we shall dance till we bleed of die.

           Perfection is a demon of fulfilment...

If spelling was a marathon,
       you tripped over on


the first step..

Find a penny pick it up,
       With this coin
I ran out of luck...

Bent down just as car drove past
            clipped me and
                           now I'm

Outtttttttttt…

Took a while but I'm back on
                                        my feet..

what are the chances a four leaf
   clover and a horse shoe neat..

No... the horse shoe was still
connected to the feet...

I shouted four as flew through
         the air....

then it licked my face before that
               shoe stood on my piece..

I'm out the hospital, and I saw a
           ladder, na I'm not having that.
On the outside,  but I never say the
                                           black cat..

I came to, and she was there,
             are you an angel..
        No love, You've just been served.

My luck is less my future short,
              but ill carry on as how
can it get worse, is that thunder
                               I can hear??

I was always moving around,
a step that stops isn't
meant to be moving anymore.
               Well I'm always being told.
So I carry on walking.

But in my line of
work, I'm on the road
more often than I'm not.
                    And some times I'm
in places just mere hours.

Could I stay, would I
want to ever settle down,
don't know really, I sigh.
If I were to quit
            my day job, I laugh..

Go on as you mean
to, tread faster than
the foot behind you.
I'm always on my toes,
          A trail of breadcrumbs.

That's all I leave them.
        Wish you were here's,
wrote in blooded pride.
       Silent but deadly, leaving odours.
A new man walks in pride..

The cover never tells the truth,
          for every story... has papercuts
when you've turned the page.
             Every fable can tell a tale,
some sweet as pie, but not all apples are
syrupy, some putrefy from the core.

For this cover shows her reading,
while rabbits playfully play.
   Not one for ill suspense..

The book was different ways to
          cook rabbit, she knew they
attended this spot.
              Know your pray,
          Remember that to be at ease
gives them a false sense of passivity.

Now when your ready, make your move..
  
The best practice is to scare, for a moment of
uncertainty will make then scatter in directions
                                                    not uniformed..

With that she slammed the books pages together,
    startled bunnies ran in all directions...
The ground around sewn with steel teeth
awaiting
        gentle steps to snap shut...

She stood up proud, that the book was true,
     not all tales are fairy tales some are truthful.
As a few were still squirming, she did an act
of kindness,  the book heavy as it came down.

The family will feed well tonight,
  she had to wipe off the fur
but there were plenty more stories
of  how to capture and create
                                          that fairy tale meal..

Oh my god,
    did you just..

He only said it as a joke...

No, no.. you, why you smiling...

(inaudible gurgling)

Well I did a joke..
  
    Knock, knock,

(silence)

      Ok ill fill in the blanks

Who's there..

Who lives forever?

Death...

Punch line was just ****** marvellous!

Marvellous, look at me swallowing a thesaurus .

Ok, he said he'd live forever,
                 I just got to the point we all die,
Be it before were birthed,
              crossing a road.

                             The last cheese burger..
                                    Flatline../\…./\….........

Sorry, but we all die some sooner,
        me not yet,
            you pair,

sorry yes.

I felt like the titanic,
  we're perfectly sailing along
       on our sea of dreams..

But I never looked below
            the surface.
We were about to crash
              upon the other..

Cutting me beneath
                 the surface.
Not immediately visible.

But you slowly sank me,
       my life boats of emotion
empty as I had nothing left..
.
my heart serenaded as it sank
    beneath the waves..
And all that was left.

The wreckage of my dreams,
        As I sank beneath the
surface.. I'm never sailing free...

I'm  missing some stiches,  
                         flawed genetic patterns

I'm a silently panicked individual,
on the outside  I'm calmer than
    the ocean on a windless tide.

But underneath I'm like a riptide of
trepidation,
             I wonder different scenarios.

What if's,
                when will I,
              why the hell are they
                                    not 6 feet away.

In my view, a cotton cloth isn't going
to stop anything, if a **** can get through,
                boxers, and Demin trousers.


How's a thin cloth going to stop it,
              P.s the rest of your face neck
hair is open for business.


Its absorbed, every breath, touch
cough, that travels much, much
further than you think.

With your vinyl gloves that spread more
than you realise..
             But what ever makes
                          you comfortable.. that's ok!!!

                             But don't touch anything
I want to pick up with your filthy hands.
Id rather trust unwashed digits to those
blue, white, finger puppets of falsehood.

I read the news, so many who help us,
          those in need thank goodness I'm
not one, not yet..
But they help the poorly,
                            the dying..
  I hate that word
                            DYING..
loneliness,
             of family unable morn you,
             to smile and wish you good journey.

You, we, them just die without a smile.
               a We Love You.
No they just gasp looking for comfort,
      but all they see is others gasping for
           just another day...

                      Flatline...…………………………………….

Some are like caged hens
banging there heads on the
        metal metaphors of desperations.

Non confirmative to the needs of seclusion,
as they were once free range.
           The eggs of doubt and walking in
secluded circles,
                 can drive one to
desperation!
or even to the moment of silence.

We all are meant to be free range,
             and now were battery hens,

running out of charge..