This world is dark wherein I roam,
often voiceless and all alone.
These things you think I cannot hear,
rest assured they're perfectly clear.

You see my friend there's something amiss,
and it's not unlike that very first kiss.
The event horizon breached by a meeting,
the most delightful of all the possible greetings.

Drifting and wading amongst so many souls,
aimlessly doubting they share the same goals.
Lamenting their woes and playing the fool,
never keeping in mind the golden rule.

It's in your nature to feel somewhat needed,
to serve a purpose many have pleaded.
To know that your death might bring them sorrow,
to know that sadness would visit their morrow.

Still though you stand there out in the rain,
thinking no others could know your pain.
Feeling alone and misunderstood,
I cannot help you I wish I could.

It is our tasks to wander this earth,
hoping and praying that time will give birth.
To a realization or an epiphany,
of knowing you are more than what you see.

The journey can **** and be rather daunting,
the spectre of loneliness forever haunting.
Fret not my friend upon looking you'll see,
there's to be no sorrow your will is free.

To love who you want with reckless abandon,
you may happen upon the right companion.
Someone who carest to ask about you,
to know of your fears or the size of your shoe.

Moments show up like scenes in a play,
some last for a while and some just a day.
Hold tight these firsts they may be your last,
before you join me as another outcast.

I only open my mouth, it seems,
To offend, by changing feet,
Born with foot in mouth disease,
Don't take any notice, please.

Moving through my head,
like I'm neck deep in mud.
eyes foggy & ears ringing,
losing feeling in my fingers...
'cause I'm gripping my head,
breathing air that's hot
--like fire
Did I close my eyes,
I never can tell.
trembling, I whisper important things.
~keep a hold of your head, PROTECT it~
I lower my head, my life, between my knees;
ragged puffs of air STING when they hit my legs
the floor drops, the mud gets thicker
'til I am encased in it,
in my head,
I'm stuck floating in this fuzzy sensation.

Somethings changed
& the space around me
is whisked away,  I fall
but only an inch or two.
dirt in my hair,
my body is now bare...
but I don't feel the need to cover myself.
My feet frozen,
but I stand, start to walk, then a little faster,
I run & all I hear is the sound of my feet
hitting the linoleum floor------
I know I'm in a narrow hall
even though I can't see.
Smell of disinfectant and stainless steel----
monitors beep and some flat line,
that's when I feel a breeze, more footsteps,
like mine but heavier, faster... w/more urgency.
I stop running, just before a door.
I see it only at the very edge of my vision,
it opens the moment I look away,
this room smells different
I take a step inside maybe two...
before I had the chance to close the door,
someone closes it for me...
I beat at the door 'til my hands bloodied------
I knew... but still I came... & the door never opened.

Tickle my feet they stink )()()()() my name is pickle

Dear diary,
Today I was inspired
See, for me they'd conspired
I've finally got the attention I'd desired!
And it's from that particularly dashingly gorgeously fabulous man!

I'd felt so alone
All I could do was moan
Even though I had a mirror-like clone
See, we weren't all that close except in physicality and proximity.

But now I could scream!
- with joy, I mean.
Oh I've been covered in cream!
Such beautiful, fabulous, marvellous and wonderful involvement as this!

His friends they remark
"Oh, what a lark!"
As we frollick in the park
And I haven't figured it all out, the why, the what,
It's not as if it bothers me one jot,
It's just,... well,
That dashingly gorgeously fabulous man,
They like to call him '******* Stan'.

Dear diary,
I'm forever lopsided.
It's as if one side of me has gone to market,
And the other side went all the way home
And the rest of me is all caught in the middle
Torn, divided, uncertain
And somehow this is all set to the smell of roast beaf.

I feel so far from everyone.
Isolated.
They are unaffected by my pungent aroma.
Perhaps I won't wash.
Then my smell might waft into their lives.
I'd be noticed for once.

Dear diary,
I get trodden on daily.
It makes it hard to get my feet from under me and find solid ground.
I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever be able to stand on my own two feet at all.