Excuse me, have you seen my people?
They don’t all look like me or talk like me,
But when you see them you’ll know.
Because you know me.

Well, yes actually, I have lost something! My purpose.
It was here a minute ago with me on the dance floor; and then I seem to have misplaced it…
I guess I could retrace my steps but that sounds quite boring, even painful in places. Do you have any other advice for finding it?

Sorry! Didn’t see you there, I was too concentrated  on trying to figure out the source of my happiness. I’ve heard it comes from within, but I’ve only been taught how to look outwards…
Do you know? The outside can get ever so distracting with all these pressures and changes.

Hiya guys! I think I’ve found my personality, how are you?
Yes well, I was going to ask you actually if you thought I should change it… everybody needs an upgrade these days. Do you have any ideas?

Oh ****! I’ve only just clocked myself in the mirror! How long have I been looking like that much of a misfitted ***?!!

Unwashed saliva
Directly comes to mind
In an embrace
A new level of intimacy

Sometimes you can feel them
Softly throbbing under your arms
Or the smell detects them on the face
Rolling steadily down skin

Hearing is the worst.
Dealing is just as bad.
Some peoples cries so uncontainable,
Either one of you is mad

Are you inhuman to not react?
Are they putting on an act?

The difficulty about tears is that
None can ever truly be judged.

There’s a knot in my throat,
as I frown
These shakes could have another meaning.
My jaw clenches as I force myself
To reassemble dialogues in my head.
Self pity is despicable,
But not as threatening as the self doubt
That wraps around my clouded memory
And squeezes my chest, in shame.
Disgust at uninhibited reactions
Expressions of false confidence.
Although I wish for nothing more than
To retract, erase, repatch
Gauged open wounds;
I need nothing more than
those I fear I've hurt
To heal my shame.

Time is fleeting,
We spend half our lives sleeping,
Then only a quarter at most if we're lucky,
Living truly, and freely.
The best friends help us keep authenticity.

I was struck last night,
by a ghost from my travels.
Rushed, not myself,
with my mind occupied by the feelings of others.
As guilty as I felt, I saw more changed in him.
It wasn't just me or our continent.

The Golden Messiah, with bright childlike eyes,
and strongly spontaneous smiles;
Cut his sunshine locks,
Dimmed his infectious grin.
Limped the way he would run towards me.

Rushing to save him from boredom,
I had left him last on a beach;
With nothing but a loud kitten for company,
Alone to make palm leaf huts like Crusoe.
We had eaten and drunk and slept on that beach,
And did everything by the warmth of the biggest fire I'd ever seen.

Last night he needed saving but didn't ask.
he mentioned the fire with a smile I'd never seen him have.
In a buttoned up checkered skirt,
He materialised into the Portuguese
American Gothic.

The full weight of this transformation revealed itself
After the euphoria of this reunion wore off.
I bounce about and beamed at him
And said "Que louco!"
The way he had done,
The phrase had stuck with everyone he'd met.

He looked now like he'd achieved what he
Used to tell me in order to not worry
"Nada louco linda, tudo tranquilo"

Last night I was no longer staring up at him
And smiling in admiration.
The levels had changed to the point where
We just hugged tighter and tighter
To bring back the warmth of that huge fire,
and the feeling of having boredom as our only concern.

Green, long grass.
Fields tamed by stone walls
Fences twisted by stray twigs.
Breeze that brushes through
Cows' ears and lambs' wools
Strokes my hair as I stare
With glee knowing that we
Are joined by this same sensation.

Perhaps they avoid stepping on bluebells
And then regrettably flatten buttercups
like me.
Might they not step on the cracks
between stones,
As I do not step on cracks between drains?

We share the same fear as other
humans approach,
Ready to flee if they come too close.
For they could be the death of us
Or we the death of them.
Once this fearful distance is breached
What will happen then?

The day I realised the extraordinary
Power of the Universe
I began to take refuge in letting go.

First it was my possessions:
I took no pleasure in personal property
Felt lighter free from attachment.

Then it was my body:
I wanted nothing, but to share the little I had.
I esteemed each new person higher
Than the last and easily above myself.

Each event good or bad,
Was a gift so great because
I did not conceive it.
And when I did, I denied all liability.

Is this life just of the Universe
Or do I have a piece of power?
If each presence is a present to me,
How could I return the favour
While I'm busy falling into the flow of life?

Living through a series of passive actions
Can wear on your mind.
You become a shell.
Full of other people's opinions, actions....

Then stiff like a marionette,
Always performing for others pleasure
Saying only what they want to hear.
And when you realise these leers
Are as hollow as your actions,
You become heavy and possessive.

I saw my reflection and realised
I'd achieved the very opposite of my aim.
When I lost control I lost myself.
There was nothing new I'd gained.