A mural of faint galaxies
behind my eyelids
vaguely sparkle
like the static of tv -
it isn't darkness
nor is it imagery...
It's nothing
but, what is nothing?
Like bedsheets pulled over
the pupil & iris
staring at a ceiling of
subtly glitching galaxies

It's raining
And I Want You

The rain makes me overly sentimental, adding its ten drops worth to my ocean...
Nostalgia swells up; a monolithic wave of sadness and fractured memories
The borders imposed on my heart rebounds the lapping tongues of melancholy and send them back towards the centre towards
Me
Me; the centre of my own world
The Centre of my ocean

Frail ratty rafts of values drift brokenly across my ocean
The cracks in my character screech like strained metal; shouting at me that I'm sinking them
I'm sinking the morals and values that merge to form
Me
Me; the centre of my own world
The Centre of my ocean

The aquatic depths house the monsters of my mind
The Subconscious apparitions so large that a stirring of their serrated spines change the flow of my polluted basement of an ocean
The flow of my subconcious stinks stagnantly
It results in the drifting away of me from
Me
Me; the centre of my world
The Centre of my ocean

It's drizzling
And I want you

If the truth
Were to be told
That sometimes
Everything i touch
Turns to mould

by Jemia

On my silent days,
I miss you a little louder.

dissecting the self for strangers;
an ugly kind of exhibition.
"too personal! too much!"
my inner self screams.
and yet it is something I need to do,
to purge these demons by commemorating them as art,
to make sure I remember to forget.