I'm swimming all alone in a pool of darkness
and I feel like darkness is slowly pulling me under
I yell for help but no one is there to hear it
I begin to see the water at eye level
and I kick and flail
fighting to stay above the darkness
But the darkness won't let go of its hold on me
and I slowly begin to give in
to the feeling that lies below the water line
the waters starts to fill my lungs
the lungs that once held so much life
yet now they allow the murky water to replace that
I know that this path doesn't lead to happiness
But why doesn't someone grab my hand
pull me from darkness's grasp?
because no one knows I stand at the boundary
the boundary between light and dark
so I give in to the thing that holds me
All of the strength and all of the courage
that I once held in my heart
can't save me from the water
So I slowly slip below the world of conscientiousness
undetected by the occupants of that world
I don't want to fight anymore
I've given into darkness.

Even though it rises every day
somewhere, someplace in time.
On a day in the life of Jacob
the sun doesn’t often shine.

A shopping centre is bright and loud
and Jacob is sitting on the ground.
With his head buried in his hands
sensory overload of sight and sound.

People notice as he begins to shout
his Mother scared he’ll run away.  
Some think he’s badly behaved
but for him it’s just an Autism day.    

Later he escapes to his room
stressed and needing time alone.  
A meltdown at dinner hasn’t helped
but he’s calmer now, on his own.

Playing at length on his old guitar  
takes his mind to another place.      
Where the demons in his head        
for a while are not in his face.    
                  
Eventually he takes to his bed
and will rise, as soon as it’s light.
Probably won’t have much to eat
appetite dulled by a restless night.

People around him struggle to help
he tries to cope in his own way.
On a day in the life of Jacob
it’s always an Autism day.

But he deserves a chance in life
and we must strive to find a way.
For children like him, with future fears
to be able to seize the day.

Why are we here when
awareness cites through
the left and the right
Self questions self
There is no us and them
Just us
To effect our reality
we need to
become bigger than I

Laying up late, flipping through magazines,
Look at these beautiful people,
The bodies of angels who deserve to be seen,
Reading articles, thinking one day,
That could be me.
I just need to lose this waste of flesh, of fat,
Looking into a mirror of everything I hate.
Models can do it, they aren't just built like that.
Thinking one day, that could be me.

I'll skip lunch for a week, just speak
As if I'd eaten a lot before
No one will question me, I'm sure.
I'm quiet regardless, I started cutting down
On the other meals as they come around.
I've been a little dizzy and lightheaded
But I already lost 20 pounds,
One day I'll be beautiful,
Standing over a speechless crowd.

People are starting to take notice,
I'm nervous, making excuses.
I eat here and there so they know I've had enough
Then slip off to get it back up.
My chest hurts a little but I can reach my goal,
To be like the beautiful people, I would sell my soul
Even if I had to starve myself whole.

She was covered in fallen leaves and flowers

I  heard a  strange sound

and spotted the plastic bottles


I plucked the plastic off her

she left out another soft sigh of pain

and then, it rained

One day.
One day, there will be a rapture.
There will be a mighty roar and the Earth will rebel against the sky
And the floodgates of hell will open.
One day, our lives so small against the dawn of life itself
Breaks upon the night destruction and Death.
One day all will be broken as we have broken the bread
And our blood will stream into a mighty ocean
That covers the sun forever
Bringing Death in its wake and Death in its part
One day the line between life and death will blur
And all will be cast in the shadow of our own actions
One day.

Each day hundreds of cells die
And hundreds resurrect - those who
Compose my body, my self.
Thus, I change each moment, bit by bit
Without realisation - a continuous transformation.

Each cell that composes my body
-Living and Dying-
Is as much as heir of my existence
As any other.

A collection of all cells
Makes what I 'am'.
The thought that holds onto a desire of immortality-
Amidst a continuous flux of birth and death
Is perhaps what 'I' am.

When calories become evil,
When diets become starvation,
When 90 pounds becomes fat,
When the scale becomes a shrine,
When life doesn’t feel worth living,
When 3 hours of exercise becomes normal,
Someone starts dying