I’m ready to pick up the pace a bit now, I’ve become a bit lazy with my strides,
I need to re fuel my engine and get back out on the open roads.
They tell me the opportunities are along the straight crowded ones,
but I’m drawn to the lonely crooked dirt tracks beyond.
I might just wait until I get there
and decide as the mood takes me,
like I do.

The moment you emerge from the stagnant smoke, you instantly forget ever being there.

It’s what being zapped through a portal into another dimension would feel like.

one minute you’re choking for what feels like an eternity in toxic mist and the next minute you’re dancing on a glitter paved street.

“See you later alligator.”

“In a while crocodile.” She cheers back at him before he disappears out of the back door. He is the very essence of what it means to ‘Love thy neighbour.’ He’s a brilliant, kind, quick witted free spirit, living within the shell of an old man. He’s a sinner alright, he loves his whiskey and his cigarettes, he’s always reaching in that flannel pocket of his for his light.

The shelf must have been made with her in mind, to cope with the weight of her reluctance for so long.

The good thing about the shelf is, it’s high enough for her to view the magic of the birds and the bees, without the worry of impact wounds to her wings from the vultures which prey.

she’s not afraid to fly from its edge and
She loves the sights she sees from the comfort of her shelf. Its just that, she has the best of both worlds from where she sits, so, she waits for the one who wants to will her from the solitude of her shelf but one who is also happy to enjoy the splendid views with her too.

She wonders what she will write tonight. She rummages through her chest of thoughts, picking bits out one by one before she reaches into her heart for her string of pens.

“What have we got here then.” She says aloud, as she decides on her loyal companion for the evening. It will surely be a night of magic mixed with fierce and fury, just to be extra.

It’s getting harder for me to play the part with the ‘sleeping ones’ of the world.

I can feel myself becoming less tolerant for their pretentious conversations and feeble ways, which leave me screaming back into my shell of solitude.

Ego, judgment, nonsense and tales of utter insignificance. I cringe at the very words dripping from their superficial souls.

Rat a tat tat, the rats were hungry tonight.

She often thought about laying traps to snare the stinking vermin, but they could smell every brave thought in that determined imagination of hers and every hidden crevice  of her captive mind.

Scrounging, hungry, ***** rats, scratching their way through her walls of peace and tranquillity for another slice of her magic.

One day, one day those rats will surely die from the potency of her will for them to leave, or, she will simply remove their tails one by one when she’s sharpened herself up enough.

A rat with no tail is a comforting thought in the midst of it all.