Looking for inspiration
In a desolate dreary wasteland
The same **** just different days spent
Hoping life will finally make sense
Cos I've got bored and aggravated
With the drama I know will unfold
Is this really the end of the road before me I behold?
So I form facts from fiction
To try avoid repetition
Of dreary events to which each week ends
But my yesterdays tomorrow
You know so my yesterday will follow today
A bit like Bill Murray
From that film Groundhog Day
But with a lot less adventure
Or comedic reflection
A script not to question
And no seams between scenes
I'm caught in a dream
I can't see me come free from
Those are the facts son
There's no lights camera action
No glitz and no glamour
Definitely no famous actor
With the hardest tasks keeping track of...
Straight from morning to night
In the flash of an eye
The same simple ending
A yawn then a sigh
Only to wake with a shudder
Butterflies inside flutter
Feeling nothing but gutted
No new day
No new dollar
It's the same as before
As I walk out the door
The same route to work
To live out another day stuck
in my white collar Call Centre curse

you were black when i was white;
you were the moon when i was the sun;
you were a one hit wonder when i was on repeat;

you were dark when i was light;
you were bleak when i was a silver lining;
you were a silent film when i was in living color;

darling, you were merely a crack in my armor that i filled myself.

I have to prove this tonight. Mind over matter. Thought is sharper than any knife, and moves faster than any bullet. Thought leaves the body at 10,000 signals per second, if propagated correctly it goes directly to who you send it to. It grabs friends along the way. Friends who want to **** for you. They will hang out around the target and then actually go into others and into the target. They can take over cells, thought, and well being. I am sending them tonight. In a few moments I will release these white stallions to trample and to bite the backs of the dark ones who travail in the shadows. No hiding. I know the routes to send them. There will be a lot of friends. The good spirits that are beaten down and awaiting their bodies to finish the dying process. They are in purgatory. I help them, and they are thankful for me, as I am thankful for them. I hope they are more gentle this time...I truly do.

pale sickness
you're white as a sheet

draining illness
your clammy white skin
rots

deathly light
the diseased white sun will bleach your bones
after the doves pick them clean

sickly white
your cracked teeth clatter out of your skull
dominos in a dead white jar


trembling hands the color of spoiling milk
carefully cradle an almost translucent infant
mother and child
both far too weak to feed

the only thing that grows here is decay
white mold thrives on your hoarded white bread
while outside the safety of the white picket fence
there is not a single soul who does not
recognize the white of an unburied skeleton
under a full moon

A sensitive
little white
flower,
opens
her
petals
by the
opening
of lunar
light,
seeking
to heal
others
as they
lie in their
dreams, she
whispers
to them
within
their
hearts,
“hear 
these
words, 
and 
allow 
me 
to take 
care 
of you, 
allow my 
petals to 
heal your 
wounds, 
I will gently 
touch your 
tears and 
dissolve 
them 
within 
my own
heart”
the soft
wind
tousles
her, the
butterfly
touched
upon the
flowers
heart,
“tell
me the
secret
to flight”
the fragile
one asked,
it flew
again
into the
nightly
hour,
she felt
a dew,
she
looked
up and saw
the florist,
who
sung
to her,
“the
secret
is love,
where
it is,
there
is flight”

little glowing flakes
blissful and divine
snow glistens into my bright blue eyes
the beauty of simplicity
of a simple blank white canvas
means winter is upon us

A million white balloons
cover the clouds
they hide the sunrise
away from her eyes
we’ve breathed nine hundred thousand
and ninety-nine lies
one among the many
hides in the cries
one as pure as any
among the heavy on high
for one day they'll turn
flip like an urn full of tears
and pour down
like a crying sky

china white suits you best
on some strange day, you’re stranded in a desert
and i’m proud, you're brave and tall, you in that shirt

neither of us is a believer,
but i put my faith in you

we both know:
god is in the branch of trees, god is in your flimsy blue veins
a tiny silver speck in the blue yonder, and there i'll be
i'll have my eye on you

you’re fighting aliens again, sweetheart,
like in starcraft, they're somber and green and gray,
isn’t it strange that we might share the same dream,
despite being miles away?
you’re stout-hearted, but i think

you don’t have to be there
right back there christopher ray
you don't have to be there

Knock knock, who’s that?
Glance through the peephole
****, I’ve missed you and that’s a fact
Here take my money and my soul

Can I ask you what your name is?
Oh, wow what a lovely name
Tina, I remember our very first kiss
You walked out and I’ve only myself to blame

It feels as if I cannot live without you
That I wouldn’t make it out alive
There’s an explanation that’s due
You keep me alive long enough to survive

My mind has many thoughts but mainly parasites
I can’t control the want because it has now become a need
Between my mind and surroundings I don’t know what the **** is right
I wish you never would have planted that first seed.