I watch myself
watch myself
watching their dance,
my action is actioned
by panel and plan

Significant thought
to trivial task,
I find myself missing
that which I've hatched

Impromptu I can do,
in scrutinies stare,
replayed ad infinitum
pretend I don't care

When waiting has waited
and I dare to break free,
will the watcher be waiting
or will I be free?

rainfall paints the car park with a darker hue, giving
depth to its once flat surface, so that headlights
drill down and refract, in its now mirrored facade.

the world slowly melts, as a thousand drummers beat
against my window, falling as a single sheet towards
the sill.

dark shapes, people, walk swiftly by: faceless,
beheaded by their own umbrellas, but, it is no different
from a sunny day, when stern faces, and frosty
indisposition, takes the place of covered face.

Time exploded,
Space expanded,
Gas turned into ***** of fire,
Suns,
Gravity made cosmic dirt into planets,
Oceans raised, life grew...
Swam and then walked,
Hunted then foraged,
Lived alone then lived together,
built villages then cities,
fought and then lived in peace,
lived and died,
all this so your auburn  eyes,
could make me feel like a kid,
again...
in a toy store.

If you ask me,
I'd say we got off cheap.

I walk with my head down
trying not to be seen
But I can feel them staring
their eyes boring into the back of my head
as I continue down the empty street
alone

Your eyes fixed on the screen
and mine on you.
You're watching a story
And I am, too.


F.Z.N

I'm the observer, an outsider to the world. I sit and  watch.
The small child, eyes like shinning beacons.
They play silently. I cannot hear. I'm the observer.
Without them I would fall into the oblivion, the dark pit of reality.
This frightens me.

I'm the observer. I see her grow up, I see animalistic instincts,
I see it all. I watch people pass, unwarranted and alone I sit.
I cannot help feel invisible, maybe I am.
My only friend a small pigeon
Who seems to share my woe and disgust for the world.

People pass. I'm the observer. Nothing more and nothing less. Expressions range, each one having their own story,
I can see it all.
I suppose that's the burden of the observer, as an outsider to the world, lost and forgotten in a thought, a flicker, a moment.
Forgotten. forgot. forget. for go. for. go.

You sick twisted person,
with your hands burning black,
from all of the ashes,
you've left in your tracks.

You and your friends,
you leave nothing but hurt.
Sweet promises made,
trampled in the dirt.

You left nothing good,
just one little thrill.
Not the thrill you want,
just one that makes us ****.

We hate who you are,
and there's nothing we can do.
You're not welcomed here anymore,
We say goodbye to you.

Take your ashes and your sick mind,
your pathetic rants and twisted lies.
Because we'd rather be dead than hear what you say,
We'd rather watch you wither day by day.