She was 9.

Several steps to the right, she discovered the bolddboldepth of her constant sadness.

Those plastboldiboldc stars on the ceiling fought it out, using the plaster as a battlefield.

Shifting, every few seconds, blending cries and screams with glowing shapes.

Their pointed fiboldvboldes click-clacked as she gazed in awe.

Greenish-yellow geometry soaking up the tears.

Words she couldn't understand belted boldoboldut.

The anger was astonishingly real.

There was feaboldrbold, but also strange curiosity.

As she pondered, she drifted back to sleep.

"We must solve this puzzle before the sun finds us, this is our last boldcboldhance for hope"

And with that they disappeared.

From the skyline above her bed.

From the windows.

From hboldeboldr memory.

She was 9.

an enigma…
a line…
a dot…
or a shine?


Who are we?
a sum total of our illusions…
or the choices of our delusions…
a window to our mind…
an absentia…
a presence…
or total blind…

Who are we?
energy…
or mind…
body…
or spirit sublime…

a lung…
a heart.
an *****…
a gland.
or an invisible cast…

the ‘hold’
or the holder…
inane
or a super natural plast…

Who are we?
the question perpetual.

Who are we?
question which shows ‘void’.

Who are we?
the question itself, a void.
filling, is but our indulgence.

to live our mind
to play our mind
we locked our ‘self’
we chose to forget.

The ‘self’ is.
we chose sleep.
the reverie we love…
but enough we have seen
and lots we have been.

the inner self beckons.
the sound of beyond…
we hear but neglect,
we respond some,
then again forget.

the waking, the reverie.
the ebb and the tide.

we lesser mortals,
ignorant of our shine.

some of us have woken,
we can’t lie now…
we hear the silence,
we know the flow,
we know that space,
where death doth not show.

She was 9.

Several steps to the right, she discovered the depth of her constant sadness.

Those plastic stars on the ceiling fought it out, using the plaster as a battlefield.

Shifting, every few seconds, blending cries and screams with glowing shapes.

Their pointed fives click-clacked as she gazed in awe.

Greenish-yellow geometry soaking up the tears.

Words she couldn't understand beltedout.

The anger was astonishingly real.

There was fear, but also strange curiosity.

As she pondered, she drifted back to sleep.

"We must solve this puzzle before the sun finds us, this is our last chance for hope"

And with that they disappeared.

From the skyline above her bed.

From the windows.

From her memory.

She was 9.

Plomb this Hand to stamp Cotton to your Name
Is a Task too daunting for me to assume
Though embed, plast Sentiments to your Fame
Will allow the Charmer to bleed your Perfume
And why now? Ask this Soiled Agent bereft
Pleading when he is qualified to kiss
At least in-tune, break-saddle for such Theft
Sipping your Smile as he conquers your Bliss
But you type on - Busy - less a Bee's Stock
Yet ardent be the Pleasures you relay
When - snipping the Eight - rest-easy for Lock
Bid your Moment's hurry to cheer your day.
Yet such Smile remains. Which your Elder missed
Interprets a Choice; Yet a Choice sans Risk.

Claudia woke up early
While her punk lover was still
Asleep
She snooped around his appartment
And saw something other than
Pictures of rockstars
She saw pictures of Himalayan
Monasteries and scenes with beautiful
Coloured flags
And a shrine to a picture
Of some old
Creepy man in robes and glasses
With no hair.
That explains the wierd books
She thought but was creeped out.
What did she get herself into
And she was going to marry
This guy.
She wanted some answers
Claudia couldn’t wait
She gently rubbed him on the back
Morning love.
When he stirred
She asked him about the creepy shrine
Boris said that he had a plast life
And that she wouldn’t understand
“Try me,” she barked.
He said that he was the 6th Dalai Lama
In one life
And a normal monk in another
He said that he and Claudia
We’re meant for each other
Because their souls met
In his past lives.
Thinking creepy
Claudia
Left for the day
Thinking
If this creep comes to watch me teach
Or whatever great
If he doesn’t show up
Fantastic, it was good while it lasted.
She hung out with her
Friends
She hasn’t seen
Ever since with being
With Boris.

im sitting here
headphones in
music blasting
trying not to cry

you messaged
me today
telling me you
were sorry

and all i could
say was
goodbye

i cant sit here
everyday plast
a fake smile
on my face
and say everything
is okay

i cant do it any
longer i
need a release
i need to go
leave

it wont just
make me happy
but everyone
else too

not havening
to worry
about me
my pathetic
excuse of a
life ended

and everyone relieved