I want you to see
You who claim to love me
You who claim to save me
From that which I can't see
Ahead, but I know in my bones
I can't let bygones be bygones
Right now - I've worked a week for two
Or three, and I'm tired, and I have had too
Four weeks locked up through no fault of my own
And I am wearing close to the bone
And I'm dying on my own
I am not-crying on my own
I can't say I'm alone
When I'm out of the zone
Where the world is a stranger
And my sun turned from me in danger
As if I would **** him with my pallor
Because I asked for his light, in squalor
Or maybe just too young
And realising how much is wrong
And how much has been wrung
And how I have a limit to being strong
And how I loved too much
That I'm now sick of the loving, friendly, familial touch -
I did not realise how much I suffered
Until today's sweet sunny plans, by me, were scuppered.

Helmed by pilots
who maybe read the manual,
definitely loved the way
the hat looked in the mirror

nearer and nearer the nuclear button we inch
cheeks pinched in at random stupidity
with no desire to suspend our own flesh
over that particular fire

Is this sick feeling jealousy?

Watching those who clearly know no better
pretend otherwise and still succeed?
When they channel the brass
of someone smarter,
harder, sharper, more charming?

What do we do
with alarms that keep ringing these days,
but hit snooze?

"Happy New Year!" they say
as they sip their champagne.
Each bubble,
last year's sorrow,
to be lost in the new tomorrow

Let the new year ring out
as they kiss and laugh and shout.
Each balloon,
is a latex vessel for resilience,
feeding the emotion coloured chameleons.

As if the "new year, new me" attitude
should terminate the blues and
help us to forget the cold, harsh, truth.
No matter what the new year's resolution,
there will be no retribution.

Too bad, halfway through

my working day I am stuck --


with the word puzzle.

This heart filled with fury
that I feel ever so empty;
My mind was blurry,
while my fists are moving.