Vegetarian sandpaper snake,
opaque as a back ache.
Tied into steam whipped air.

Needles and spokes,
rustled and restless,
concrete and wingless.

Following a Papel sideshow travelling into town
to form a claim of no coherent ambivalence.
With most moist avuncular symmetric denial.

Reclaiming such winkled names in claws.
Reptile claws of rainbow rhythm or
mindless meter.

Needles and spokes,
rustled and restless,
concrete and wingless.

Turning smile as screws eyes are bolts.
Locked out and locked in.

Is it deranged ?
Or better said strange
The chapter needs to end
Bliss behind the page

Too much thinking
Pills are peeking
Something's gotta change

Always trying to be our very best,
Always trying our very best to be something we aren't.

Trying to act different from who we actually are,
Is more like a chore that you get used to doing all the time,
And when you don't do your best pretending as someone else, you feel ashamed?

Telling lies now so you'll be liked,
Even though your not like that at all.

Trying to fit in, but your pretending and lying,
Just so you can be this thing called "normal".

Us human being's, we are so weird,
Shouldn't we feel more ashamed of acting and lying
About pretending to be someone else then the other way around?

love is a strange emotion,
it blesses the soul with wings..
giving it the right to fly free in the vastness of mid-night sky
while it keeps the heart prisoner ...
it touchs the soul like
September breeze caresses
the dew touched flowers
while setting heart ablaze !!

He was sitting on the stone cold step outside the Co-op
A thin blanket around his thin shoulders
His outstretched hand reached out to me
And touched my heart.
I gave him the cup of coffee I had been drinking
He seemed pleased, I felt good.

I saw him again on Saturday night, he looked thinner
His face hidden beneath a ***** grey hoodie.
Once more the outstretched hand reached out to me
I gave him a warm blanket, made of wool.
He grunted thanks, I felt good.

One week later I went looking for him on the stone cold step
outside the Co-op
He was sitting on the woollen blanket,
his eyes shrunken into his skull
I gave him my coat.

He gave an almost imperceptible nod of his covered head
And stretched his hand towards me again.
I fumbled in my purse, and gave him all I had – he grunted “Huh”
I felt I’d let him down.

My friends said I was losing weight, my clothes no longer fitted me.
I gave my sweater made of cashmere
To the hooded skeletal figure on the doorstep
outside the Co-op

His jeans were frayed and ***** from the streets
I gave him mine, they no longer fitted me.
He looked up, his broken teeth bared in a forbidding, dangerous smile.
I flinched. His outstretched hand pulled at my wrist,
I backed away, he held me.

I tried to run but his fingers tightened their grip, digging into my flesh
He pulled me in the direction of my home.
His grip on my wrist burning hot

I turned at my door to see him, he grinned, his eyes seeking my soul.
His face now no longer thin, his bony fingers now fleshy,
his rotted teeth Improved.

I looked at my hand. I saw my reflection in his eyes. My face skeletal
with shrunken cheeks,
My shadowed deep set eyes
haunted.
He laughed a croaking triumphant laugh as he entered my house
And pushed me out.


I turned and my feet took me back to the stone cold step
Where I crouched down outside the Co-op
A thin blanket appeared on my thin shoulders
I held my outstretched hand towards an approaching stranger
Who walked on by.

©AEB 14.05.16

do you know
that strange, inexplicable feeling?
the one where you did nothing wrong
yet you are filled with guilt?
or the one where you came back
after having the time of your life
and now everything feels
sad and lonely?
like our soul is trying to tell us something
that our logic hasn't quite figured out yet.
pay attention to that little feeling,
that little voice inside you,
that's always there but it never shouts
it is always soft and quiet, gently nudging
kindly reminding us of our untapped emotions,
if we learn to feel them deeply
we can begin to know ourselves.

Rain drops on the pavement.
The cold wind blows ahead.
Blank stare while I’m waiting,
for a fading memory.
Everyday’s the same thing,
but a little less of you.
My heavy heart is lifting,
for a thrill of something new.
You made me feel I’m falling
and then I guess I fell.
But down here on the ground
I guess it’s hard to tell.
But it’s strange when I remember,
and it’s strange when I don’t care.
It’s strange to think that
I think I’m over you.
It’s strange to feel not
to feel anything for you,
It’s a change of space, pace
Ways rearranged.
It’s a change of space, pace
Days not the same.
And we’re getting better
at being strangers.
So better that it’s strange.

Beaten Bitter Blood mouth.
Emo shutters through the walls.
Darkest dreams surface to reality.
Black eye
Strong guy
A club
And a kid.
All over
Here
In
This time
He pays
Price
$$
(Prison)
Sketchy motives
And a coffin
Left
For the
Morning
To clame

Choking in you clothes,
Tight; pretty as a tiger rose.
Wild claws, sharp point needle feet
Slightly reddened, in light of
Blood dead moon; resting on a
Salt grain littered sky
Hurry up n' drink the glass throne pond
Squander its delusion sup
Quickly now fresh prey is nearing
From unnatural light clearing
From the songs of the throng.

Your claws deep in;
Drawing his tin blood
All the wealth, of
Disease potential
Your groans of
Victory.
At the peak of flesh;
Lust referential.

Night; pretty in absence Of days clothes.
Glares darkness through home
Windows.
You prey is consumed withered
And fallen, twisted to a whim.
From snake to worm, birth
Blood stolen from him.
your Tiger rose left him
Sleeping in weakness.
Now hunger freed
Back to the daylight
Life you lead.