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Spicy Digits Jan 2019
I climbed giant boulders
to gather wild berries for you
A heavenly golden lake stretched
across your vision.

Unfazed by my generous offering
Oblivious to the dragonfly hovering
You drowned yourself in screen-time, buffering
I waded out alone.

I picture wrapping my legs around you
the air full of scents of homely comfort
a long day lightened with sweet laughter
our minds rest, immersed in fictional realms

But online games take away our nights
Political trivialities and football highlights
I sit and dream of smoldering fires on campsites
While you fall asleep alone.

In darkness I wrestle with the devil
for my piece of present moment, untainted
I beg for black viscous sleep to drown me
to wake without feeling half of me is gone

And you wrap me in the soft fabric of your skin
And you chase away the sprites to let the light in
And you breathe for my lungs as the attack glows dim
And it's just you and me alone.
No relationship is perfect, but be with the one who will sit with you in your darkness.
Spicy Digits Jan 2019
I've grown cold
a close call
from a stone's throw
thrown from black souls
acid seeps from necrotic holes
in my resolve
worlds unfold
as I lose control
to the arseholes
who police and patrol
break me like a criminal
without parole
they pigeonhole
and troll like Interpol
I duck and crawl,
drop and roll
then with gall
stand tall
10 feet tall and sure
face the ****** brawl
despite the toll
scream till I'm sore
an immovable flesh wall
of colour bold

full of holes

yet whole
Spicy Digits Dec 2018
Where oh where
could my little sense of humour
have gone?

Oh where oh where
could it beeee?

Last time I saw it wandering
trying to find a big enough bin
to put my emotional baggage in

Lost among traumatic memories
It didn't enjoy my therapies
Dampened by big pharma remedies

Sedated, it traveled slowly but far
and despite its growing number of scars
Still searched for truth in the bizarre

I've been finding pieces among the trash
Funnier jokes asking to be rehashed
Of times of freedom, a big ol' stash

Where oh where
could my little sense of humour
have gone?

Oh where oh where
could it beeee?

Finally, happy to see me, we embraced all night
I laughed till I cried at it's clever insight
And now humour and I write
Depression and the healing power of humour
Spicy Digits Dec 2018
Compete never

Never worth that fight

Fight only for innocence

Innocence runs through you

You are alive

Alive, but not awake

Awake the dormant innocence

Innocence that runs through you

You fight only to compete

Compete never
Spicy Digits Dec 2018
And after all my vacant musings
And energy wasted in worry
I sit here, sorry.

For but a while I lay silent in my bath
Drowning in evaporating thoughts
Lamenting my stories.

He lets me ponder, flail, indulge my mind
And fill my soul with sand
On my self-made dry land.

Until a feather lays at my feet alone
And my little ones say my name
I suddenly understand.

The rays of sun wrap me in their love
And my stubborn perception is severed
Life opens, unfettered.

And after all my vacant musings
My weathered, jaded body
Returns again and remembers

Simple beauty,  
Simple acts,
Simple words,
Pure love is simple.
Spicy Digits Dec 2018
Put down the pizza
Put down your phone
You're now in Pisa
You're now in Rome

Blink once,  blink twice
Use your imagination
Secret agent in disguise
In Grand Central Station

You don't need to drink
To pretend you're free
Take your coat of mink
And ruminate with Dali

Put down your pen
Put down your fears
You are a hundred unique women
Separated only by years
Spicy Digits Dec 2018
Wish I were sunny and magnetic,
Energetic
And darkness was only at night
Not in my soul,
Black hole

Wish I were an inspiration to you
To me, just naturally
I would have an armour of titanium love,
Undreamed of

A phoenix rising in red hot embodiment,
A testament
A barefooted rebel of society
And the prison of tradition

The visions clear to me,
Patience flows, unceasing
Releasing

Wish I could uncover and set free
That little girl inside of me
But my heart is the heart
Of a tragedian
Obsidian
On disappointing the psychologist
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