Thrum.
Undulating across the cyan, sea scented lagoon,
  I watch Venezia condense like an artist
  sketching grey lines in the mist.
Murano: thump, a deeper varum,
  static air fills with diesel vapour,
  smelling of engine, tasting of oil.
Thrum away.
My eyes wash the roofs and domes with terracotta,
  till I step into the canvas

It is quiet
It is 𝘲 𝘶 𝘪 𝘦 𝘵 and I cannot fight it
I stare the sandy void
In its 𝘦 𝘺 𝘦 𝘴 and I
And I
And I 𝘴 𝘤 𝘳 𝘦 𝘢 𝘮
At the endless dunes
The grit in my face and my teeth and my hair and I
And I
And I wait for a boon but it’s not coming soon
Who knew that the moon looks like a cartoon
When you 𝘨 𝘢 𝘻 𝘦 at it too long
I could write a song
About it but I’ve ran out of music
Choose it, I would have to choose it
But I can’t make decisions when I have this incision
Visions, they cut with surgical precision
The wind 𝘩 𝘰 𝘸 𝘭 𝘴 at me so I 𝘩 𝘰 𝘸 𝘭 back
And I’ve lost track
Of where I am
Of who I am
But I still
I still
I still must 𝘴 𝘵 𝘢 𝘳 𝘦 the void in its eyes…

Oh, but it’s just another desert night.

The mist clouded my sight
The dress I wore was white
I was lost I could tell
So, I followed the **** of the tower bell
The wind swooshed past my face
It was a mystifying maze
I was cold
All I had was the warmth of
your love                          
My hair was damp
You switched on the table
lamp
The branches creaked
Under my feet.
At some distance the water cascaded
The trees in front of me faded
The insects were buzzing
The paper on your nightstand were rustling
The woods whispered
The birds no longer chirped
I am still looking for peace.
Our photo frame on the mantelpiece.
You burned it down
I tripped on the frozen ground.
I knew I was losing you
I could no longer feel you.
The scratches on my elbow and knees
The frost on the leaves.
I feel like I’ve heard and seen this before
I cannot take it anymore.
These sounds are noise to my ears.
All I see are my fears.
They screamed at me monstrously
I can’t handle this cacophony.

Thy creative mind is Divine.
It's winding paths, all spread and
growing, remind me of a grape vine.

Each path leading to a new notion.
In the wonderful scheme that is your
head, there is always a commotion.

They wonder, but don't observe and
ponder, why you always think.
They can't understand, especially with
their thoughts dripping out like a leaky
faucet in a kitchen sink.

Drip...drip...drip
While your thoughts are a waterfall,
running fast and heavy, giving the dull
people the slip.

Somethings I do
Just for me
Paint this picture under my tree
Pull out all my drawers to find one tee

Drive the hammer
to hit the nail
Swing my car  
to set sail

Hit cruise control from my chair
Stare off until I get a cramp
Lay in by bed and make basecamp
Randomly run my fingers through my hair

But that’s fine for me
It’s not all for you
Some parts are lies
Some are true

I can’t have everything I want
So I’ll imagine the rest
Even when I drift off
I’m never at my best

I’ve never fully realized my
Potential
Never completely fulfilled my
Aim

If life is a game
I
Forfeit and forgive
All

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

My nails tap against the plastic of the desk. Waiting.

Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.

I scratch my shoulder awkwardly. Anxious.

A sudden movement. My heart sinks before thudding.

Thud.
Thud.
Thud.

I chew my lip, terrified of what’s waiting for me.

Taking a deep breath, I gather my courage and sigh.

I let myself fall.

Mishmak grak tak
fak shzak clack nak GRSHAK
rage **** Fak

shnk klnm fm ttmmmn
flnm shtum
jandmmm
frustration f'n

mrrrrow cow, SHOUT
now wow you dare, OW
how why please no
stop why now  go

I
want
peace
please

Stop with ease, I don't want angry
you
I want calm
you

There the same though aren't they?


pain.

Thud Thud, The Boots of Warriors thunder onto the Boat.
Crash, Waves bang against the mighty longship.
Boom Boom, under the Jarls orders the drums of war sound.
Bang Bang, The mighty ships land on scottish shores.
***** *****, Viking Mail and shields clash with the Claymores of Highlanders
Bam, Bam, The chieftain and the Jarl do battle.
Bounce, the Jarl deflects the massive sword with his steel shield.
Whoosh, the Jarl has fallen to the ground, Will a sword clash with the Chieftains or does the Jarls Saga end in Valhalla.

Have you ever noticed that when you do something brave–
Something rattling,
Something that makes your heart bounce,
Something that steals the breath right out of your lungs–
That the world keeps spinning?
Time doesn't stand still,
It ticks on,
Passing by,
Moment after moment.
The earth keeps the feeling of invincibility just out of reach
After you've tasted one drop.
People don't acknowledge it the way you think they will.
That moment is gone in a few whispering breaths,
And it is forgotten by all but you.