Enjoy the madness, its Mortemer's dance!
Swishing and turning its not wishy-washy,
Slashing and cutting the shapes! Oh lord the shapes!
Slicing and spinning then boom! Red confetti.
Look at him go in his marvelous trance!
Spinning and cutting the dance spins in circles as the audience cries 'now do the slip and slide!'
So he slides in real slow now he's in his mojo
He's feeling himself as he's breaking it down.
Its him and himself in his spotlight lit solo,
A pool of composure for his one final flourish;
A swish and a slit, moves never seen before.
The big grand finale and the crowd goes bananas!
There's roses on roses, they pile on the stage!
Mortemer's touched by such lovely affection from a crowd of individuals with no connection.
He'll lie on the stage and soak up the praise.
His roses smell sweet, and his roses are plenty.

I wish I could see how I
look behind the mirror...
without any light,
or surface.

How would I appear
without my reflection?

I wish to take the journey into
that vast expanse of formlessness
where nothing matters:
shapes, colours and even movements.

A trapped shadow
harbours a similar desire!

“All my roses like to go,”
He says looking outside.
“I am sure they’ll come again,
In the spring they’ll come out,
Wherever they do hide,
And I’ll be able to rest.”
    
    Something has eaten my flowers...again
    And I am not sure who to blame.
    I take such nice care of them
    But they never seem to grow.
    Maybe there is a mole…
    Yes feasting away my crop
    Or perhaps I am too early
    And the chill has made them stop.
    I say laments and I cry
    But all I ever do
    Is shrivel up and die.
    
    I will try something else,
    Roses always die too soon
    I will try something else!
    And then I do nothing.
    Weeds and vines grow about
    Clogging my drains as they sprout.
    My garden feels empty
    All I want is one thing
    But then I'm left with plenty.
    
    You once had a nice presence
    Here some time ago
    But then one day you stopped
    And left me all alone.
    Roses, they are telling me
    That I am not the one they want
    Somehow I’m not good enough
    And I should just stop.

    Barbous thing you tricked me
    Was it ever mine to want
That i gave you all the conditions
And you gave me naught.
So I look in puddles
And hear about others success
But all I do is wilt
And in it I regress.

I feel like gypsum
A minor step in between
    Stale and used
    Time has expired for me.
    Why are there so many vines,
    Why is there so many weeds,
    All vexing me in all directions
    I wish I could fall asleep.

    My face is cracking plaster
    As I start to weep
    I feel my mind sinking
    And I start to dream.
    You are the ****** one
    With little of success.
    I am the ****** one,
    They know what is best.

    I changed everything
    So i could be adequate
    I played the role they liked
    But in the end I am looked at
    In bitter thoughts and spite.

    There is a curious thing
growing in my garden.
The vines have blossomed
And the weeds bear fruit.
Is this the allure of sadness
Or just an unrealized truth
Because I sit and look
At the thing I ignored.

So here I take
What has been given
And we brush away
The mistake I’m living
So stop with all this fake peace
You should have been
Honest with me.

So find some sugar songbird,
You can bury me alive.
But I’m not the one
Having something to hide.

Here is my garden,
There is plenty of space
And i don’t want to live
Under your passive glance.

Here is my chance
I’ll try to let go.
But I am the memory of someone
They will always know.

Shadows dancing on the wall
They never fall
Conjuring shapes of all disguises
Elongated limbs
Faceless
Daylight
They run away
Night
They follow you
Every corner of every street
Waiting

The veins of my eyelids
a sharp toned red
transforms into a blinding white
my eyes swivel to peak at the sun

I want the light to seep into my bones
longing to instead be a plant
slowly photosynthesizing

It would be easier perhaps,  
to whisper sweet nothings
to the wind
rather than tightening my throat
strangled by my human body
the grief never quite leaving my lips

Shadows cross my bedside  
shapes of blowing leaves tumble over
as the sun turns her head west
I watch the flurries of colors pass by