You may call it Sky.
I call it Blue Breeze.
You may call it Sun.
I call it Zen.
You may call it Rose.
I call it Reason.

Forgive this Father
I hear those angels speaking of providence
A weight on my shoulders reminding me I could be holy
This is all my mothers ever wanted for me
Bear witness Father
They whisper fire is the only way to cleanse
Ashes to ashes/ dust to dust
The trail of bodies left in the flames wake
Belong to no-one other then me
Hear this now Father
These sunset red lips are paradise to anyone
Who wishes to kiss them
The angels tell me I can use that to ease a sick soul
Trust in this father
I’m told I am only doing Gods work

He builds you a cage
making the walls out of honey and dew to lure you inside  
Putting in windows only to then glue them shut
He shouts “you can leave whenever you **** well please.”
Relishes in punishing you with black magic-
that leaves you dizzy for days whenever you try
Wilts the flowers you grow for company
Convincing you it’s your fault they always die to begin with
“If you would just be good maybe I wouldn’t have to do this.”
laces you up with ribbons and spider silk
Reworks you until you are docile just in his image
He’s a dead ***** necromancer and you're the best of both his worlds
always on the cusp of being half alive
He takes to gathering bouquets of your dead flowers
placing them on the windowsill
His voice renaming and whispering spells to them
every time he visits you
until they are gleaming once again
eventually you see this act for the warning it is
Sitting pretty and doe eyed
You now only shimmer and shine if it means he will let you stay

- You’ll learn one day that this is not  happiness

My Love
Your dreams are all made of war-
forged straight from your heart
You claim iron does not bend-
Only darling
I see you choking on the sulphur
Why do you give yourself to something so hateful?


My shining light
My dreams are all made of war-
forged straight from my soul
And it’s far easier to swing swords
never second guessing-
whose on the other end of the blade
If everyone is the enemy
then who do you have to mourn-
When you're standing alone on a killing field of your own making  
Dear heart
How could I not give it everything I have?

Days of pots and pans
ladles and bowls
sweet words have been
cut down
during the day
the habitual silence
can only be broken
with stainless steel forks and spoons
at night the bed routine
both tied back to back
snoring and buzzing of mosquitoes
intimate conversation happened
a long long time ago
this double bed
bigger than the endless night
the fatigue and exhaustion
they can only tell you the next morning
with a wry smile.

To net a butterfly takes time,
catch the states of mind with kindness.
From thoughts, emotions, opinions, belief,
ethereal dreams may seem out of reach.

The small pineal gland still stands tall,
even if we're concealing what is real.
Cold hard stone in hand,
a granite man can fracture.

Match the eye of sun gods,
appreciate your wider space in chorus.
Combined from our creative borderlands,
where we learn to understand and teach.

Factual fractals repetitively resonate,
so try to make the most of your ability.
As intuitions have a silent plan,
contemplate your future face.

This life can be deemed a dream,
where we're all here for a finite time.
You're born, you work and times pass by.
Then onto the next opportunity.