Tea taming the light
Misty magic
Crawls up the spine
Birds through the looking glass

She opened the book
Absorbing every page
Each chapter a gateway
Musing on those she knew;
Represented by numbers
Individual, yet all the same

Your days are a never ending struggle
Rare in and of themselves
Bringing trouble;
Dog eared rationale

We seekers of solace
Take refuge in books
Understanding
Demanding
The next installment;
Flooding our lives
with fantasies
Cocooned
In our chrysalis

Reading brings change
And knowledge
From page to page
We analyse
Plot, scene, age
Apply the theatre to our lives
And sit, thinking for a while

Read between the lines
Crime, thriller, romance
Happenstance

That could be our lives
Yet sky so grey
Overcast
Reprimanding
We sit, dreaming...

Some day.

There's a mansion that I know
Where many people come and go
The owner invites visitors each day
Then entertains them, let them stay

The guests are happy, they feel good
There are many free clothes and foods
They celebrate a party each night
They eat and dance until the first light

Since all the guests are good people
They're not selfish nor ungrateful
They work for free, they clean each part
Love the place from the bottom of their hearts

But the owner turns into someone
Who doesn't understands who's a free man
He starts treating each guest like a child
There comes a time he acts so wild

The rumors spread to all the guests
They start to observe, make their quests
Each day one of them finds something
That makes him leave on the next morning

There's a mansion that I know
Where many people come and go
Each door has a secret to unfold
Will you come to that place to find a gold?

All those laughters
Are not always real
All those faces in a park,
Wrinkled and weary,
Laugh in a circle,
Devoid of happiness,
No sign of a crinkle,
Eyes without light,
Devoid of life.

Their happy sadness echoes,
On the streets, in apartements,
The dismal vibes reach us
Yet they emanate the fake sentiments.

Stoop a little and evesdrop that circle,
They deceive emotions, black and purple,
All you hear is a shouting troop,
We know the truth of a laughing group.

Spent our days
With the freedom we're given
The boring days
Faded away
Just our group
And our stupidity
In this holiday we had
And the fun we shared
Until when will we do this again
Our friendship time

Leave us in a bedroom
a locked room
both bound by a fleeting veneration
but no tangible definition
and windows will fog up
with excess anxious laughter
and phlegmmed throats
til the glass transforms
transparent to translucent
so the outside world becomes
an informed guess about
which coloured shape is going
                   where.
The door handle will twist into the room’s
home grown central nervous system
backed by rising voices
rising pulses
assuring ourselves it is
everybody outside
who is trapped and not us
because ‘cosy’ has scribbled over
‘cramped’ between the sheets of peeling
wallpaper and bodies upon bodies upon
bodies only excites.
We will stay in bed
cocooned around this single duvet
and distracted into its folds because this
is how we choose to spend
free will. Don't
murmur about the locked door
and even when it opens for
lack of air or food
so we tentatively tread through into the
open, or perhaps closed,
I beg you to
grab my wrist and pull me back and whisper
tear yourself up
decrease with me
because this will always be the one place we’ll happily suffocate.