Luggage its all to much, the need is
Burning me up, the powder the liquid
It fills me with joy. The thought of looking
After these that i,ve started to ignore is
Getting to much, I have to choose what
Is right that which I want so much.

What is that my heart disires , what my
Heart wants so much, my love eroded by
The needle by each ******* it numbs
My feelings till there isnt much.
  
Just one more, then my feeling will be clear,
My head full of confusion this will make
It all clear. I think a thought as i fade in to
Bliss, that I wish for my children, but now
Realisation that this was one is one too much.

A body now slowing, feelings fading, a last
Thought not of the high. But the children
I have let down over this accursed white
Dust. Fading in to terror as I realise to late
That I wanted the children, as a tear rolls
Down a cold face, my last thought is
I will miss my children so much.

Whispers fall on the garden of eternity,
where eyes blossom gazing forth into nothing .

Petals  kiss with lips of pollen into the void,
sunny days extinct within a breath of moments.

Cute were the last cries of luminosity echoing intimately  
as they surrendered, like raindrops in the gardens of eternity.

She dwelled on thoughts looking at her love as
It was lacerated upon the walls, her wrists burdened
shackled with the wire of belief but now they bleed.

She was in need of extraction as this feeling hemorrhaging
Under her skin, tainted regrets blood turning from
Red to onyx crimson clogging her thoughts inside out.

A scalpel of truth buried in her chest, a glancing blow
On her throat cutting out words of maybes and I don't
Knows now silenced beyond reproach.

She was unresponsive, her insides were open but being
Sutured with untrusting sentiment. she had bled out, she
Felt cold inside. He had killed her, her love had now died.

They call me evil, but I am in you,
cocooned till I am released, the
trigger is in you. It just needs that
incident that something, to give
birth to me within you.

I am like a butterfly of darkness,
my wings are spreading releasing
the evil within. I couldn't do these
things with out you, but you are not
alone, everyday I am released to do
the unspeakable.

Some have regret with what was
done, while others soak it up and
use it as a strength within.

Those others do not understand
that I am evil within, for I may
sleep to the grave. But in most I
am in some ways released, and
the black butterfly will once again
spread its wings within.

They whisper incoherent visualizations upon yourself;
clinging upon you like spider webs, viscous  and transparent.

A wanting of cleanliness urges you to look away from
the apparent vocalization that is perceived with their
                         glaring pockets of empty sight...

*"A look speaks a volume of intentions,

Condolences to self,
    you don't know this
                but life is false.

Weaponized tears
      will solidify a heart,
      eyes will gaze coldly.

Condolences to self,
      for you were your
                  own enemy.

You never knew that your
         kindness was always
         a downfall to this place.

Condolence to self,
        but if your reading this,
        you only have yourself to blame.

Light above me which shines so
bright, the things you have seen
on your journey through the
cosmos of darkness and light.

You have traveled not wanting an
orbit, a lone traveler seeing the
sights. Your journey has been long,
but now it is time to rest, as you
shine brightly through the sky
and show others your here with
your tail behind you.

As you travel from the space ways
to your place of rest, nestled in the
earth a crater your bed, now sleep
space traveler you have now come
to rest...

In the deep fingers waved like seaweed,
hypnotically enticing those in shallow
borders where shadows like puppets
were seduced to touch upon its being.

Whispers of silence guided all to the
yearning that stemmed from this narcotic
enticement, hooked in hollow waving's.  

Warped cravings entangled and to ash
they swam in the waters,  and depleted
they sank unseen but relished upon.
Nightfall was eternal in there embrace.

Jambo did turn towards the camp site rooms when
in the distance could be heard be music from
Halloween but its only july said he, then a mask
and blade he saw too late to run but said you can’t
**** me as a voice heard said I disagree as a knife
plunged through his chest and straight through
the tree, the killer smiled through the mask now
try to disagree…

Lolly looked around after her portion from Charlie
as he rode off, Lolly thought where have the rest
of the camp gone, have they have left me. As
she walked around horror music could be heard
and blood soaked areas all around lolly did
scream.

She ran to the lake it was blood red
with bits of people floating around she could see,
in the woods she found more murdered people
in parts people stuck to trees. Then as she turned
around, you look tasty I'll eat your liver with
some fava beans and a nice Chianti, as
she awoke screaming as he cut open her skull,
as she died he said mmm.. Jellied brains anyone...


At that moment driving his moped called Clarabelle,
a late arrival Marc was going 32 in the 30 what
the hell, breaking the law echoing through the
woods he did yell. Little did he know what was in
store, for he looked around and saw a face smiling
back at him?


He picked up the pace; little did he
know his life was to coming to an end, as a wire
took off his head clearly off. The wire snapped
as his head did roll, Charlie Hunnam drove past
and saw a headless rider drive past, he screamed
like a girl and felt a bump in the road. Little did he
know he had just ran over Marc’s decapitated
head. Poor Marc’s didn’t even get to the camp,
he became the legend of the headless rider that’s
know to haunts camp forwards woods on his moped
Clarabelle still looking for his head no less.  

  
So the story does come to an end but the final
question remains what ever happened to Poetic T
was he the killer of all or could people write his end..

Perpetual desolation was my wondering,
I had succumb to the envalabilties of solitudes abandoned
breath,. And it was a bleak environment of reflection.

But in that moment of my absenteeism a beacon shone
first it was but a shade in obscurity, then weaving into
the eclipse of the soul I awoke to its beauty.

She shone in my eyes, yet I was not blinded but
awoken from my seclusion. And where I was forlorn,
now I was for the first time seeing the beauty of her.

It was a segment of me joined but never really there.
Having travelled on every footstep but it kept me
anchored below. But all things must at a time
become singular, it felt this time was now.

Time had past and this anchor had become
fainter, I felt weaker with its dispersal from
self. But it wanted independence from a form
feeling it was a servant not a part of the whole.

Awaking in agony as if I had been lacerated
to the core of myself, then I stood up and my
companion had divided its  substance from me.
But all was not as it should be for errors now seen.

Constitution had been unravelled, without this
coupling light had refracted its existence. And
where form was once, now it was devolving into
its basic form that of obscurity dispersing away.

Silent screams echoed through, as shade made a
depletion of actions. Never getting close to its
needed attachment. Instead greeting extinction of
form as they became wisps fading into oblivion.

Those that coalesced and became as singular became
as one. Knew the needing of a symbiotic joining.
They were separated by consciousness but lived
now as one. Inanimate and animate united in life.

*"Just because its beneath you never feel your higher,

I laughed and giggled I let out one
then two they were rather loud,
whoops I laughed out,  one more
followed they really stunk too.

I was in hysterics my friends thought
I was gross, but they laughed to, it
was like a baby ***** had exploded
in the room, the laughter was followed
by heaving that regurgitated smell
not leaving the room.

The laughter reached new levels, my
sides were hurting to, but then I
felt one brewing, and so I did push
to make it a special brew.

My laughter was short lived as a
wet guff came out, followed by
a wet feeling going down my leg.

My friends were laughing till a
brown patch appeared on my
trousers and a log dropped out
of my trousers and on to the floor.

Silence seemed like forever then
they laughed out louder than before
heaving and running for the door.

I was red faced, I couldn't move fast
enough to the toilet as another log
fell on the floor, I pulled down and
my  boxers were a brown stain,
where they were once sky blue before.

Never again would I push out a ****
for the crowd, for you never know
what may come a guff of putrid air,
or the embarrassing wetness down
your leg and on to somebody's floor...

The
World
Is
Fuelled
By laughter,
And today the world is just a little less funny..

We are all stitches in the cloth
                           of the universe,
each a moment holding
        the past & future together.

For without these
                   overlapping occasions
we would become frayed.
Undone not learning from one another.

But we are but one stitch among the
                    many colours that are
woven as far as the eye can see.
            patches that collected together.

Her beauty was not of the flesh but what was etched
Underneath for flesh can tell a thousand lies.

But what resides in bone never a distortion of what
Is meant, only true is engraved in cold white.

We wear a lie upon bone to hide the misgivings of
What is told and seen in needed truth.

If you want to know the truth of someone look, peal
Beneath and the bone never lies you only see truth.

Life bleeding from my view unheard is my pleading
Teeth seeding my skin in clotted drips where they feeding
I hive of onyx death, I face and uncertain last breath
A tattered drape hangs precariously my only escape.

I was the prey, not bled dry awaiting I was on display
Craving decayed my death moment now delayed
My sight began to fade, death was what I  portrayed
But as flesh torn and I wept rouge tears afresh.

Let me pass, let my life not torn, last thoughts of my wife
Her brunette hair her skin so soft I will never forget
I screamed in laughter,each weakened not what it seemed
Dead blood in my veins, only limited a moment remains.

Their folly of hunger as each faded, greed was now traded.
I reached out droplets rained, my movements strained.
Light eroded twilight as flesh tainted now slowly corroded
I myself now untainted I fell those now just an empty shell

Light shone through as a window opened to my delight
All was awash, charred ash fell like snow, I was still on guard
Scars were my honour all were expelled, now her necklace held.
She had feed on me, hunger had poisoned her soul now freed.

Distracted thoughts, unhinged
Realities of multiple soft whispers,
Unstable voices rattle in bone.

Within lagoons its sins did
feed upon its perception,
                  Churning in a vacuum
                   of malevolent damnation.
Its singular words corrupted
white satin, soiled by its pestilence.
                   Like lacerations upon the substance
                      it lingered like vines consuming.
A soul drowned within pools of scarlet death
Malignant smiles on a polluted husk.

Poetry isn't exclamation marks
            or full stops.
            its the words that's pour on
the page and mingle with emotion.

We all verbalize our words in ways
            that aren't to others contemplation
but the synergy of words doesn't need
            anything but the emotion of words.

If I gave you a flower for every time
you made me smile in happiness.
A garden would blossom in the
corners of my heart, as psychedelic
aromas of loves essence danced in the air.

You are a thousand butterflies released
in my mind every time you smile.
I would catch everyone in a jar, a thousand
colours that would paint a rainbow on my mind.
Woven imagery of you blossoming in my heart.

Were full of thought,
          but empty of
                 understanding.

A singular drop of knowledge
          can be lost within
a puddle of unknowns.

But a single droplet
            can still make ripples
that show us that waves

don't have to be big, to understand everything.

I cant help it I play with it
all of the time, Its starting to
smell funny, but I just have
not got the time.

I get funny looks when I walk
about, people saying I smell
like a CHEESE BOARD what the
hell they on about.

I cant help it,  I have an idle hand
down the trousers it goes and
away plays my hand.

I woke up one morning and some
thing I could smell, my hand
still down there I sniffed my fingers
HOLY CRAP what is that  awful smell.

I asked my dog to sniff, he hide in the
corner whimpering , it cant be that bad
so I had another smell. Like mouldy
cheese with sweaty ***** was this
god awful smell.

It was worse than stilton, at least
you can eat that well, this would bring
a girl to tears and no girl would
touch my stick. It would fall off
from lack of use so wash it
and wash it well.

I asked you when we were knee high
to a blade of grass would you look
after me, never to let me go..

I asked you when we were but a breath
of years if you'd always stand by my
side, two peas in a pod you and I.

I asked you when you were a kiss away
would I be your forever, as the rings eloped
on our fingers, we both said yes.

I asked you, I remembered that promise you
gave to be always here to be by myside.
now I'm asking you to relinquish that promise.

I asked you, with a tear falling like snowflakes.
You'll always be here, but now I need to release you.
Tears fell and peace woven like silk blanketed your eyes.

"You made a promise,
*"You stood by it, ill forever embrace you in my dreams.

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..

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 are all lucid
                   rainbows,

That follow the
path of our own
                     delusions.

Falling like sodden
                               ash.

No longer
                 vivid
but a blanket of
                  falsehoods

She was easy on the eyes
                       mesmerised
by her allure.

Momentarily we touched
                              delicately.
Stealing my heart
              as well as my wallet.

I fly released my arms
stretched out, my mind
is free, as I glide through
the air, I feel the breeze as
it brushes over my face
and through my hair.

The wind hits my clothes
I see the rain slowly pass
as it goes past my face, I
drift down to the place
that will finish my final
flight from this place.

I had a thought to fly one
more time, to let the world
pass by me, to see me fly
one last time.

Then before my moment of
flight is at an end, I regret that
this shouldn't have been done,
I don't want to fly anymore
regretting that step

But I flew and it is at an end,
fifteen stories up my flight
did begin. At the bottom did
it finish, my final flight regretting
what I did as this is my end.

Night winced at the luminous arising, parted,
lost, sulking back knowing Its time to envelope
Was clawing, burrowing slowly away.

Opposites never so much the
Same, one warmth, one cold
Each a measurable effect on
The other.

Heat melts cold, then steams
Of passion unfold, where once
was rage, now soothed upon
By cold calm words. That breath
Relief upon radiating heat, now
Cooled but not hot neither cold.

Difference is not always negative
Not always bad, from difference
A new respect can be had. one
Warmth, one cold, but never more
the same as when love unfolds.

Created in an image of you,
woven in the palms of creation.
But you made a broken puppet,
one that will never be real.

Sins of a father who wove wrong
stitches within, but called for us
not to sin. But why collect the coins
that you thrown within the pond?

Rippling within, you knew of its
calling yet sealed it in. Said that
we would fall from graces, but
the grace was already dimmed.

Then I realized that you weren't
what I was told, no father would
inherently seed you with this contempt,
just to know you'll fail no matter the ending

Sins of a father who isn't really there,
never would you have done this if
you wanted us beneath you chair.
I wash my thoughts of this distaste.

I know now that your just a sadness of
false words, for a fathers wish is to bring
you into a world pure. Who would want
to birth flaws if not for the purpose of failure.

Looking onward I'm my own decisions,
not flawed from birth, we all have our own
morality its human kindness, thought.
Sins of a father that never spoke any words.

My view of the world
           through rose tinted glasses.

I hope that we can pick up roses
      hand them to each other
rather than point weapons upon
                       brothers & sisters.
But a rose is a sour beauty
for even thorns can bleed
              deeper than a dull sword.

We must speak to each other find
             solace in others humanity.
For words can heal rifts that started
                 long before we were born.
But syllables latching on to the misgivings
                      of insecurities can wound.
Like papercuts on the mind,
        speaking to the shallow cradles swinging
        in a hateful wind of whispers flawed.

I wear glasses that I take of every now
          and then, I have a idealistically flawed
view seeing the potential of us.
But knowing we can fall harder
                                      than when can get up.

She wore her body like and image of
lustful intent, it said open all hours.
Except Sunday, a day for her kids innocence,
Every mother has to make a living, regrets.

If time is consious
      Are we
but a fleeting
          Thought.

Yet to fade into obscurity.

Or are we a
           conclusion
Of repeated ideas,
That just need
         to be tweaked.

Life is a journey
that is of many
steps, some steps
are harder to climb
than others, but are
worth the trouble
to climb, while
the ones that are
easy aren't a
challenge and
are climbed to
fast.

Entwined, sewn was life's moments I tripped
At awkward times never knowing that it was
Strings fate pulling me another way.

Can I pull this twine, knit upon its silks, and
Stitch a heart that I could hold close to me, but
A tread always lose an emotion coming undone.

I followed my thread through life's turns never
Did I let go, my string I found finished where I
Never wished, upon a stone it was meet.

A love I missed upon fates twists, still we are
Connected, a love displaced but love is eternal
And in the next life upon string we will meet.

My looks were never a van-gogh.

                   But more the


abstract version of a never
                     published child.

I'm not pretty, never said I was.

But my colours
                     vibrant..

Hopefully I may rub off
                                       on you.

Looks aren't everything you know .

Corrupt or guiltless he will prey for your passing
to clasp on the nucleus of your being.
His eyes see noting but he tastes the intentions
of every thought that passes.

As you transcend from sentience to necrosis
waiting patiently the binary crows linger above
you to  taste upon the vessels of the devouring
locks to the soul, only sockets bleed tears now.

He is the priest of eternal silence he utters no words,
only claps the essence of you and where it may decline.
How have you played in life which corner do you fall.