I get anxious.
I feel vacant.
I get random bouts of inspiration, but definitely not motivation.
My thoughts don't have the proper translation.
**** these moments of exasperation.
Maybe it's not meant for these situations to awaken.

You are my favorite unfinished song,
the jumble of words stuck inside my mind,
but whose chained melody I could not find
not when every lullaby has gone wrong.
This song of sorrow with nothing but flats
yearns for your voice to serenade my blues.
Let it all be for naught, you have your muse,
whilst I'm stuck in the echoes of our lasts.
Yet like a train of thought circling my mind,
soon you'll wither - an ephemeral phase,
without a hint, without another trace,
opts to leave, with me left bereft behind.
All the music and the lyrics are due,
but not today, not when I can't have you.


(k.p)

I will rise a pheonix from the ashes that you made of me.
My tounge will untangle itself from the knot in my stomach.
Wounds will weep from the lashing of my whip like tounge

Whip cracking, skin smacking, back lashing!

Let me paint a picture within your mind,

There is a picture on the wall with two bodies mid fall, they are positioned in a decaying building with widows just behind them, cascading then in a ominous light.

There is a mother and daughter, and a in training service dog with gold and black fur and a purple vest with poo bags on the left, the mother, short grayinh hair wearing a grey sweater, and pants to match, jots down information as the daughter, pink and blond hair wearing a black cardigan over a blue with white striped dress and a hat black with a variety of colored paw prints separated by hearts, recites information found on her phone.

Over a frozen lake, glides a white sail with a green rim, it's stands out against the pearlescent background caused by the haste of the setting winter sun.

Time is a concept I wish I'd never learned.
I can read 24hr clocks and map earths orbit around the sun.
Diurnal cycles remind my fleeting heart the inevitable will come.
Words of a genius echo in my ear but "time is relevant" can't dim my fear.

Today, I woke up to a flesh fair.
Dresses are getting shorter, sometimes there just not there.
More cleavage than ideas, more muscles than compassion.
More media coverage of 'age appropriate' than how to feed the world!

Our bodies are beautiful and nature has hardwired us to know this.
But, know that our bodies preceeded our existence, your ***** bone is not taboo!
You strip your clothes and strip yourself bare whilst you hide under a 1000 layers.
Let's shift focuss from what was always there!

Nakedness can save us, if only we were willing to face the cold.
Pull on your Wolly jumpers, open your mouth to bare your soul.
Weaver a fabric of intimacy, a patchwork connection of trust and honesty.
Shed all the ugliness of media gorged, superficial controversy.

hurt grows
in the dark un-monitored corners
of the most wonderful, wonderful people

grief is a seed
incubated in all of us
....
unexpectedly the jagged thorns
                        slash
the gentlest hands reaching out for you

You wont know
You don't notice