And the sun rises
On another nights wake.
and now the light has kissed my skin
I must close my eyes and feint
For hours of waking in the dark night
Have left my heart sore
And now with the suns warm love
I need to wake no more

My darling
Don't ever believe you're boring
My darling
My darling
Don't ever believe you're nothing
When you're everything
My darling
To me
Sleep soundly
My darling
My darling
I can see the parting of your lips in sleep
My darling
Never forget I'm thinking of you
Darling
You're everything to me

The ringing of a telephone
A simple knock when I’m alone.
Someone just calling my name
And screaming seem the same.
A loud noise when I am sleeping,
Someone throwing open my door,
A car backfiring close by home,
The sounds of steps across the floor.

These are the normal sounds
The symphony of people living.
These sounds don’t normally
Carry terror along with the giving
Like someone living in a war zone
A place with mass invading troops.
They are isolated common things
Unless they arrive in huge groups.

Yet these things still bring me
A painful pounding in my heart
And it goes on for too long
From the moment it starts.
It is the gift of abandonment
Of childhood neglect and abuse
And is viewed by most adults
As ridiculous and abstruse.

But many survivors of childhood
Of threat and pain and fear
Will tell you the horror remains
After the passage of many years.
It has to do with the inner self
Being robbed of a basic trust
Of life itself by their care givers,
By God himself, if you must.

Because there feels a solid knowing
That truly, deep inside the child
There is nobody to save them
From creatures near and wild.
Nobody will come to rescue us
When the bad things come to bite
And everybody knows they come
In the deepest part of the night.

He was just completing the drying up after tea when he heard a murmuring from the hallway. The sound of the voice made him listen over the chatter of the early evening radio. One of the girls read a story, a bedtime story. He listened. It was about two bears, part of the usual get ready for bed routine; pyjamas, supper, teeth, bed, story, prayers, nighty-night.

He went to the bottom step on the stairs. They were on the third page now. Mum sat on the stairs, knees up, hands under chin, elbows in lap. She smiled down at Dad while their fifteen year old daughter read, her voice became more animated as the story progressed.

They both listened to the end and made play by pretending to have fallen asleep. He was now sitting beside his wife as the story ended. It was now their other daughters turn to read one of her favourites. About a Tiger.

It had been a long time. A long time since those books were opened, a long time since they we're read aloud and that reading aloud unlocked memories, a warm sense of routine, familiarity and the safeness it brought at the end of a long day when everyone was ready to rest.

This was also a new time now. Their girls reading their old bedtime stories. It felt to him like an echo of that past, yet another stage had been reached; they were growing up too fast.

You're the first person I think about
When I wake up in the morning
You're the last person in my mind
Before I go to sleep
Thinking about you is where my nightmares have vanished
So my sweet dreams can begin

rock me gently into sleep
cradle my heart in your hands while I dream
keep me safe as I lay unaware
be my protector,
it shows you care
I've become so tired that I need rest
take me into your arms,
rock me gently,
you're the best.

The glass isn't broken, it's cracked and chipped and leaking everywhere

It's loosing volume and life unravels
Having good times, unwinding
It's become a time not worth
Remembering
It's not hide and seak

It's **** up or shut up


My fingers are going numb
Arm is falling asleep
Times to close my eyes