hitting myself in
the head with a chair leg i
sit on bathroom floor

This is where our course had led:
On your bed,
In my head,
Your errant thoughts were read:
Why is it we so dread
Joining ranks with deathless dead
When they their mortal cares have fled?:
These thoughts you gave to me unsaid
As our blood was shed
Beautiful, crimson red:
To new horizons tread

I craft my love
From words and dreams,
Forgotten, bygone memories.
And of this life, Real Love knows not.
I am to him a Time Forgot.
He left me picking pieces, changed
He lives in my mind, I lie deranged
Sobbing and writing all over the floor
You left too soon, Love. I need more.
I resurrect you from the dead
And spill my heart to the you in my head.

So I wrote you
But perilously;
For you, in your brilliance,
Unwrite me.

two syllables
never left your tongue
you sung it
like a song
stuck in your head

a constant reminder
that I was the one
you were talking to
when you followed
with three more words

it was never the way
you said my name
but the way
you never made me
forget it

My brain,
a mess, when u visually see;
it looks like a scrambled mess,
All the wires confused,
No messages seem to be getting through.
No sense is made, going backwards and forwards and everywhere inbetween.

I feel like my brain is full of wool,
tangled ball, a ball of wool.
Needs pulling through
Unwinding,
Writing,
Helps with this.

Enables a process.

Unwinds the tangled heaped mess.

As I write, the wool is being pulled out my head.
A finger on either side, carefully guiding it out,
Pulling the scramble from my brain, making it tidy again,
All the perfect colours are coming through; purple, pink orange and blue, these are the colours of the wool.

The colours of my heart come too, come oozing out in the wool.
It is being pulled so fast, I see pink, red, more red too.
It feels like I am bleeding for you.

Changes to Yellow bright in the sky, remembering all the beautiful times;
I hit a knot, then it turns black,
like being trapped in a dark scary spot.
The black continues, then its green, full of envy and jealousy, jealous of me, my friends and job. So sad, it really was.

I keep pulling at the wool;
the colours are coming, more sense is too;
unwinding the wool from between my ears.

Poetry such a beautiful art,
Feeling calmer now,
a sense of serene,
The feeling coming over me,
Thanks to my love of thee.