What makes something real?
To see, to smell, to touch it?
What if it's not something anyone can see
Or touch
But something you alone can feel, hear
Some, many
Barely hear it
Barely feel it
Some, others
Call it a voice
A nagging, clingy warble
Like a fly buzzing by my ear
Only when I swat at it
It grows louder
Deafening
Until it's all I can hear
Twisting my perception of the world
Taking what I see, hear, feel
And changing it into something worse
It makes the worst of every situation
It tells me what to think
It tells me what other people think
And sometimes, I even believe it
What if...
You can't...
You won't...
I didn't always know
That this voice lied to me
That a single failure
Wasn't the end of the world
That an unpleasant conversation
Wasn't the end of the world
That being rejected
Wasn't the end of the world
That really
There aren’t many things that would happen
That would be the end of the world
I learned
That this voice
This perturbed, apocalyptic voice
Isn't all-knowing
Or a fortune teller
Or a mind reader
No, it's just scared
Just like me
It is me
And it is real
And it's not going anywhere
But I don't want it to
I don't want to swat it away
I want to make peace with it
For it to perch in my mind
Like a sweet-tempered dove
It will still chirp, and chatter, and trill
But it's a part of me
And if I'm gentle, patient
If I treat it with kindness
Maybe it'll do the same

Time goes on and it
never stops only flashes
of memories live

inside our squidgy
minds where we cannot see our
brain only darkness

where whispers echo
sometimes sweetly sometimes harsh
It's a difficult one

to analyse is
to take up to much precious
time..not worth the try

Lavender travels
around the world together
Leaving a sweet taste

Mountains are climbed high
Achievements are made with warm smiles
Spring comes and then goes

Leopards gallop fast
Faster than summer breeze but
not faster then time

Time is clever and
time knows this , yet it never
listens to wishes

So in this big world
We live it the best we can
With strength love and smiles

my mind is a crimson sky.
stars hidden by the red hues of summer.
clouds cannot be seen beyond the stormy chaos that is free thought.

my hands hold crumbling wheat fields.
each plant destroyed by a sun that shines too bright.
the roots are torn up along my fingertips.

my eyes carry empty oceans.
once full of life, purpose.
the corpses of dreams lay scattered along the iris,
battered by flame.

my wrists are a crime scene,
life ripped away in a single, crisp action.
hanging from each violet vein is a rope of red intention.
skin pulled by string, a tightrope of regret.

my mind is a crimson sky.
stars hidden by the red hues of summer.
clouds cannot be seen beyond the stormy chaos that is free thought.

my body is...
a landscape of colour,
a sky of regret,
a sun that destroys everything in its path.

but my mind is a crimson sky,
a beautiful sunset,
masking the truth.