I want to laugh
I want to cry

I am aggressive
I am shy

I feel strong
I feel weak

I feel confident
I feel meek

I look pretty
I look bad

I feel happy
I feel sad

I am love
I am hate

I act crazy
I act straight

I feel soft
I feel tough

I feel ****
I feel rough

Many emotions amidst each day
Together with reason guide my way!

How lucky of the
Fork to have touched his lips,
I wish it was me.

The world is quiet, up here by the sky. The wind lingers, filling my nostrils with the smell of the mountain. The clouds wrap around me caging me in a thick white box. The cold misty air brushes over my bare skin sending shivers through me. The trees wave me to come closer and shade me from the whipping air. But I don’t go. The sudden gusts lift me off my feet and sway me back and forth like a feather in the breeze. The grass dances, brushing against its self, humming, singing. The stream slithers through the soft rocks crumpling as it brushes the earth. The rain starts to play as it runs through the field.  Then the dark falls on the mountain, and the moon blazes in the night, lighting up the stars. And the world is quiet, up here by the sky.

You ask me whats wrong,
well how the **** should I know?
maybe, just maybe,
its the overflowing abyss of emotion that I can never show,

You've taken all of my outlets,
you even walk me to the busstop,
like I'm four,
but hey, how would you know?
I'm talking about all the emotions I don't show,
because I don't want you to know,
because you'll think I'm screaming for attention,
no, thats the last thing I want,

No more love, no more affection,
because you give me too much,
only to rob me of what I've got left
when you scream at me until I cry,
for one little mistake,

I tell you I'm sorry,
but what difference does it make,
none,
because the cycle goes on,
and I don't know how much more I can take,
how many more times can you stab me in the heart,
before it finally breaks?
how many more times can you open my wounds,
with your words as the blade?

makes me grumpy,
no, not because I don't delight
in strings of coloured bulbs
and the flavor of lip chap and hot chocolate sticky,
and the bright eyes of young magickers
but because it seems that whatever the occasion,
any revelry that involves thousands of people
destroys the city, belches post-apocalyptic refuse,
and shoulder-shoves old men, knees small children.
The reason I don't like the Santa Claus Parade
is that once it's over
everything that happened
within the anonymity drug affect of invisible hordes
and the ambulances pulling away
is nobody's fault.
Merry Christmas.

I

meteor showers are not
very cleansing nor are
shooting stars much of
a threat

they pass over arms
raised and waving with
a hundred cries of
‘not yet’

by the time they
have passed the universe
might expand enough to
engulf Regret

and our arms will touch
our sides as we realise
the chances we may
have missed

and by then stars may
not exist and Never may
have already paid
its debt

and we’re left wondering
why we were left behind
and not chosen as hunks of
rock flew by

and though Ever After
has been stitched on
our minds dimensional
thread by thread

(and has with it what the
past cannot forget without
a vast sense of swoon)

Ever After will never
become Forever if it
speaks too late
or arrives too soon

II

if you were to ask Where when it would be
he would most definitely reply with ‘not now’

and if you were to ask Why exactly how
he would probably reply: ‘without me’

but if you were to question What with how it was
he would redirect you straight back to Why

so the last one to ask is the ever glum Was
(for he knows many things, most of all regret)

and Was also knows all you’ve done
and all you’ve done wrong he won’t let you forget

III

I’m about to begin work
on Forever but I don’t
know how long it will take

by the time I’m done
with Now who knows When
it will be

maybe by then North will
be South but true North
will be down somewhere
else

and clocks won’t have
numbers they’ll just
have words like ‘never’
and ‘too late’

it might take
a very long time

so it would be nice
to have someone here
just for having someone
here’s sake

it wouldn’t make Time
any less steady nor
pass it any quicker
or slower

but when the little hand
gets to ‘too late’ or
where ‘too late’ should
have been

I hope to have felt
and seen
everything