Death caught her young,
While a tumor grew in her head it felt as though one was growing in my heart,
A mere child let in eternal peril!
Her inevitable end brought my never ending damnation,
How dare the supposed god end a life before it began,
At only seven barely knowing the true horrors,
I watched as the life perished in her eyes,
As she became incapable of self-care I became incapable of tears,
Even in her demise I could not cry,
I was as cold as her purple lifeless body,
Her casket open while people in black shed tears,
As only a child I could not comprehend the hurt
But now I carry it with me everywhere,
A I watched her body put into the ground that pain the one I was uncapable of then now fills me,
Each visitation a constant reminder of the dear child lost,
I lost a friend,A mother lost her daughter and some just lost hope,
There became pain in my world once death entered
And though I could not shed tears for my beloved friend then I do now,
Because now I see all that I lost and all that could've been oh so different.

Echos expand the ice crystals in my mind
Coronas of galactic dust feed into my pupils
My eyes are moons leaking white fire
My heart explodes into a supernova for it cannot bear the things I did to you
The guilt kills the sun inside my chest
The guilt is Jupiter and my vision is a slave, for auspicious moons have not gravity to compete with astronomical planets
Here my limbs are constellations that drift from one another
Here my fingers bend into uncomprehendable wavelengths
Here I float, empty, into space.
When I saw  what could have been
what would have been
and what is now
I became an Earthen Absense.

My entire life I've had an interest in substances,
Psychedelics mainly.. and all it encompasses,
The idea of letting loose from this world,
and witnessing something truly absurd,
but my opinions on substances aren't always preferred.

I have always been a man of science,
A sceptic in every sense of the bias,
but there's a substances in the world called DMT.
Dimethyltryptamine to the science community,
It appears in every tested plant, mammal and tree,
and It's effects are a total MYSTERY,
I could spend hours trying to explain what it's like,
Like taking a tour of the another universe on the back of a bike,
Been guided through an uncomprehendable place,
With a character and culture of what seems like another race,
The standard laws of physics don't apply,
A tingling sensation, and off you go,
Leaving your ego to die.
coming out of it you laugh,
you cry,
totally lost for words,
again, “What's it like?” people ask,
but explaining it is an impossible task...

“Druggies” they say,
Tarring me with their cliché.
Judging me on this factor exclusively,
Foolishly, thinking that's what matters,
An image of a man with his life in tatters,
but delve a little deeper and hopefully that illusion shatters.

I'm just a stereotypical geek,
I love sci­fi, fantasy and Jonathan Creek,
Spend my week days programming and drinking tea,
moaning at how ******* footballers treat the referee,
or wondering if I should have gone back for my masters degree,

How can you have an opinion on something, you've never done?
A world in which you've never come,
and what initially seems scary,
can be enlightening or fun,
but it's natural to be scared of what could become.

This isn't me saying, I think everyone should take drugs,
They're DEFINITELY not for everyone.
But do you think you should be allowed to judge?
How I spend my own time, with my own body?

There's a common phrase “Drugs are bad”,
As if an inanimate object has a moral compass,
and can know the difference between unlawfulness and justice,
Chemicals have no objective opinion,
No way to tell their right or reason.

Go to the pharmacy, “Paracetamol please”
no one ever questions this need,
People portray this drug as accepted,
while others are shunned and rejected,
this judgement isn't made with logic,
and the papers will slander with no justification,
“YOUNG GIRL LOOSES LIFE!” the headlines shout,
those words in your face like a covonia clout,
no one cares about the coroner report,
All they see is a picture on the front page,
Of a poor girls mum distraught,

These are portrayed as the rule as opposed to the exception,
a perfect example of media deception,
then again we all know it's been that way since it's inception.

We all know drugs can have negative effects on lives,
I've experienced first hand the darker sides,
such as my friend Dave who tragically died,
an amazing person I'll never again be alongside.

****** abuse can be a ******* awful thing,
a cardinal sin,
it can change people....
make them a different person in the same skin

With no idea what it contains,
It is injected directly into their veins,
*** and Hepatitis C,
Collapsed Veins and crutches plain to see,
That's not how anyone should have to be.

But is it the substances which are to blame?
Is it helped by the way society, publicly shame,
People who have had lives I couldn't even BEGIN to explain.
Needing something to take away the pain.
but ending up with zero gain
and although it's not always the same
People often don't like what they became.

The aim of this poem isn't to force my view,
It's to hopefully make you see I'm not much different from you,
and to not shun what you don't understand, but listen with open ears, and potentially lend a hand.

Language is unrealistically beautiful,
Its captivating, the way only certain things can be expressed in one language and not the other
This means of communication, so much so like the concrete slab that you place over the gap to save yourself, revives the most insane parts of your mind. You begin to access your own psyche in such a way that is uncomprehendable because your perspective is so widely spread that the possibilities for anything is infinitely limitless. Language, communication, creation and our thoughts are the first and foremost foundations of our outlets, which without, we would cease to exist

When I was young
My mother painted
My grandmother as distant
And preoccupied with trivial matters.
A woman who could never
Even if she were interested
Understand me.
“That’s just Grandma Mary.”
We could roll our eyes together
After opening the pink dress or sewing kit
She had sent me in the mail.
“That’s just how she is.”
My mother would sigh.
But as I grew I came to realize,
I’m not distant and uncomprehendable.
The only thing that kept
My grandmother from understanding me
Was years of space.
The picture my mother had been painting
Was never of me and my grandma,
But instead of my mother
And her mother.

Your love
Is incomprehensible
Your sacrifice
Is massive
Especially
For a broken soul
Like mine

There you hung
In unimaginable pain
With spikes through your hands
And feet

Gravity pulled at you
Begging you to fall
Wanting you to collapse on the ground
But there you staid
With the muscles in your hands tearing
The bones grinding and crunching

You felt alone
As you hung there
With the bashing words
They spat at you

You could have come down
From the ******, hard cross
You didn't have to suffer
With blood in your eyes
And dried blood lacing your feet and hands

I imagine the wood was rough
Stabing you in the back and arms and legs
How did you do it

Only once did you cry out
Calling to your Father
Begging for our forgiveness

How could you do that
How did you not feel hate
Resentment
Anger
Towards the beings you were trying to save

What were you thinking
Did you feel all the sin
Of the imperfect human race
Of past, present, and future

Did you feel depression
Anger
Lust
Terror
Did the entire spectrum of human emotion run across your mind

Did you think of your mother
Or your father
Maybe you brothers and sisters
As you hung on the dried out tree

Did you think of the disciples
Of the one who sold you out
The one who disowned you
Did you feel anger towards them
Or pity

Did you want to scream out
Did you want to cry
Did the air in your lungs
Become forced
As your life slowed to a stop

When you died
Where did you go
Did you fall to Hell
To the hungry, firery flames

Did you continue to suffer
For me
For us
For the whole of humanity

What happened after death
When you were in the grips of Satan
Did he torture you
For three days

Where you finally relieved
When you rose from the dead
Or did you find annoyance instead
At the disbelief
Of mere humans

Did you lose your patience
Trying to help us
Understand your immaculate power

Were you upset
When you left the world
Especially knowing
How broken it is

Was it difficult to leave
When they all begged you to stay
When you knew of their pain
Of the trouble that lied ahead

It's uncomprehendable
To know what it was like
To understand why
You'd want to save humanity

Because humanity is destructive
Humanity is broken
Humanity is almost lost

Yet you choose to die for us
To save us
To protect us from the fires of Hell

I don't understand
Your desire to save us
To love us
To protect us

But thank you
Thank you for everything
Even if it doesn't make sense
And we don't deserve it
Thank you

dragonlit backpack
shining on my wet hands
i dipped in the river
of my dreams.
i felt them fading
swept away like dust in the wind-
i didn’t try to hold on because
i was living as i just woke up.
i lay there thinking
of new things
like kisses and hugs
and dreamy laughs and hair.
i wondered about nothing in particular
as i lay on my bed
slightly dizzy and waiting patiently
without words, only images
to wake up well.
so i woke up and i stumbled
as the blood dropped through my body
from my brain
and i felt awaker and forgetting
of the uncomfort just before,
after i had washed my face with
cold water.
some time later
a flash of silver and green
against a blue transparent
transpiring sea
still
with low thin clouds
and streams of blue reflection
glimmering gently and safely
against the beating of my heart
which i did not feel consciously.
i had just woke up
and i was thinking about my day.
what i have to do,
yet without stress.
harness
and live up
only the best stepping
when you’re not dizzily pushing
and scraped knees and elbows (unscarily)
past the high stems and bush flowers.
see, there are flowers
even there.
dragon
light,
be mine,
is mine.
is me.
i love my dragon spirit
and i’ll walk across these
stones this year even better.
even further, faster, harder work is my achievement to
be
me! oh what a feeling
and joy to live
and have
and experience
and see.
isn’t it great when your eyes don’t blur out
when you’re thinking
(it’s a cycle- i’m tired and i blur and get caught in my thoughts
then i waste time and sleep late and am tired again)
so this year i’m stepping with more skill
and like the still water i’m peaceful gentle and strong.
too beautiful to stare at too long because it’s uncomprehendable
beyond my comprehension and perhaps i shouldn’t waste time
trying to comprehend at all, not that i had.
yet it was some strange feeling to consciously know
something was out of my reach.
at least it is there, it is enough that i live with it.
i will slowly understand the fullness of it
of living
this is a metaphor perhaps.
dragonlike soul lionlike soul catlike soul
human soul

i’m living!