i was a daughter once, i know,
not so long ago, when i
had a mother
with all the answers
and skin that never bruised.

we were close; her
branches around mine,
we’d unravel stories,
in winter’s light, and lay,
in those old mornings
where i felt safe
but branches break.

i was a sister too, a child,
with siblings sleeping, side
by side, in a rose-wine
sea, me – so small, we –
looked-after,
daughters lost and losing
something, someone, sooner
than we thought.

these days, that girl
is gone: sometimes i find
the ghost of her in
photo albums, teddy
bears, bob dylan songs.

i’ve yet to ask my sisters
if they’ve seen her.

Late at night, or early morning:
The moon, a hollow reflection of day,
The blissfully ignorant lie alseep
And dream of the life they'd love to live.

The terribly knowledgeable, they lie awake,
Knowing that at night, demons come out
And howl at the souless reflection of the sun;
Knives and guns and hands.

The blissfully knowledgeable sit awake
For a time, looking and knowing the horrors
Which haunt the world but are content,
Because life is about death. And hope.

I don't want to crush the lost but beautiful juncture
They are a frame of melancholy but I still want to remember
Lke pricking my own shattered heart aiming to puncture
All these years for a once glowing but now rotten ember

Maybe I'm so used to the sweet pain of desolation
That it now all feels like mere momentary solitude
Sort of being addicted to the stench of the unbearable situation
Yet preferring to surf the fatal waves of self condemnation rather than intrude

Maybe I can walk away now,this very minute
I could develop large wings of freedom and flap away
Cause it ***** being in this cold dark cave and I mean it
I feel tired of trying to keep my monstrous passion at bay

Probably I'm the reason I haven't got any ground
Intentionally lost because I don't want to be found