Her mind is a thicket, never once pruned,
her heart is in turmoil, weeping blood
she puts on thick makeup, artfully smiles
her mirror image laments,"Are you relevant?"

it is a day of sunshine,
yet i am chained
to a desk.
balancing budgets.
but oh! how the sun calls.

it whispers,
sweet, slices of
watermelon dreams,
in to my ears.
it murmurs, bubbling
brooks of tantalizingly,
****, homemade
lemon-limeade.
it talks, incessently
of mangos, eaten warm
and straight from
the skin...

it beckons me, to sin,
to walk barefoot, across
forbidden grass...
to the sand...to the sea


oh! how the
springtime sun
beckons me....

yet,
here i sit,
admist budget misery....

It's never quite right,
the way I feel upon waking.

It's never quite right,
at night when its time to sleep.

It’s a vicious cycle of dependence on
whatever the moment requires.

10 mg of this, 20 mg of that , 
  
my see-saw bloodstream
keeps me constantly in need
of something.

     It's like having Phantom Limb Syndrome,
      except you can't figure out
      which limb is missing.

          It's like driving a car on ice,
           constantly slipping and
           over correcting.

               It's like having PTSD,
                only the triggering incident
                hasn’t happened yet.

                    It's like mixing
                     red and blue paint,
                     in the end its always purple.


What’s left is a life of constant searching and
the frustrating inability to drive between the lines.

A life filled with debilitating fear and
an ever present sense of impending doom.

A lifetime sentence

in a land of purple fog nothingness.

when
the poison
is ported through my heart
and eventually arrives
on the slow boat
to its terminal
when
it does its designed job
while picking up side work
in other organs
when
the projector is shut down
and the reality
is walking beside me
within me
I will let you know how I am.

Love is a monster.
with huge scary teeth,
they're concealed behind a magnificent smile.
which, smiles indiscretion,
in the blink of an eye,
with a mischievous wink.

It hides in your heart,
but you'll never release it,
never again.

There's a corner at the end of your street,
It could almost be a Parisian walkway,
in a coffee shop,
pull up a seat,
take your coffee,
like a love affair,
make sure it's super hot,
May your eyes meet,
exchange glances,
Eyes fixed.
You know you want to beat that monster,
with all you're heart and all your mind.

But,the sirens are eternally alive,
they wail noisily,
as always,
just a beautiful diversion,
to steer you onto the rocks.
(c) Livvi

Beyond the line of high tide
the boat rests on tilted side

her rolled in sails hear dreamily
songs of winds from the high sea!