I see a bluest sky soo blue.
Immaculate whitest clouds, they move.
Greenest trees dancing
on tune of singing wind.
While bright flowers gently waving,
Happiness is fulfilling me.
Cause I know my Creator lives,
watching over me.
And… I am falling.
Falling deeply in love with life.
Yes, it’s spring

Shell ✨🐚

I stood up from my chair in class
With anger and passion and pain in my eyes and my soul waiting to be let out and to be freed
To be seen
And heard
For ideas
For minds to be change
I stood up from my chair in English class
And I spoke from my soul

I said what wasn't fair
That we are so molded by our surroundings
That we should reform so much
That our minds are being filled with unnecessary knowledge and unbearable pain everyday
That we are looked down upon
That we are treated as possessions
But that we alive
All of us

I spoke of the fisher
Who killed the fish
So it would float and follow the stream
And of monsters in our minds that our peers are luring out every day

And the kids laughed
And I think I saw a tear in one eye
But I also heard the sounds of clapping hands from most

And my teacher simply said
"Liana, I can't do much and I know that
Buy I thank you
For trying to change the world"

I smiled

I am still in search of my place
in the world.

In hope,I start
then stop to ask:
Is this where I belong ?

Everything works fine at the start
then it falls apart .

So I move on ,
Start over ,
stop again to ask :
Do I really belong here?

I have started again
now I am afraid to stop and ask
once more :
Is this the place where I belong?

After all, I am only a speck of dust
amongst the galaxy of stars.

Another bottle down,
Hoping it can distort truth
Maybe if the mirror’s fogged, it can’t reflect
Can’t show him the middle-aged wreck.

Another chug of warm swill,
Hops molded, no bubbles, flat
Looking at baby pictures and a bag of teeth
Mummy left them, he feels the pain in his jaw
Maybe with another swig, he’ll be rid of it all.

Father watches from his sick bed,
Colostomy bag overflowing,
The excrement covers the scent of shame
As eyes barely raise to see his progeny

No he’s clicking the button to call the morphine
Drips entering to send him to a new dream,
Unable to stand the sight of his kindred,
As the boy that became a man, indigent.

Bryan takes another swig of clotted wine
A Merlot collecting dust upon his desk,
The keyboard is crusted over, white film, flaky
As he tends to his perversions, hoping a spark can awaken

On here he can be anyone,
But his lungs fail to inflate fully
And the liver shrivels to a freeze-dried remnant,
It’s only been minutes, but he shakes
Begging with forgiveness
Needing something to wash down the pittance
One more swig’ll do her!
Another drink to soothe.

As father watches on,
Glazed eyes and singing Aussie songs
He’s ******* post the catheter bag
Flowing yellow rivers down his bedside

Dreams fill his head,
Hoping Bryan dies,
So he could mend and heal,
Watching as he sips forever,
With jaundiced, glassed-over eyes.

If he could write it,
Or murmur sound
He’d say he was disappointed
But all he does is frown

While Bryan,
Consumed with trauma
Caught in his self-made prisons
Drowns in a sea of sick
And cheap bourbon.

Forever a child in a man’s husk
Daddy’s little burden.