These dark walls of yours.

Black walls, that reach further than the eye.
covered in hateful vines,
Discarded whines,
And the blood of lost spirit.
No windows to let in the light,
No reason to stand up and fight,
Heavy clouds above your head,
Hateful words you’ve said,
With blood tinged spite,
a poor attempt at fright.
You have darkness in your soul, i’ve seen it, i know, this cage of deep, darkness, of bitter, spiteful words, is your cage, your rage, your darkness, your black walls, your vines. This cage is yours, not mine.


A trickle of sea.

Standing here,
Is like,
Standing at the very
Edge of my world.
No matter how big the wave
As it crashes in,
No matter how much white spray hits the sand,
Only a trickle hits my toes.
Only a trickle licks at my sole,
Only a trickle…

Satan tempts the weak, but why?

an oddity,
To my mind,
Such a similar
I wonder,
If i’m

I’ll ignore,
The similarities,
The likeness,
And the pull.

I’ll hold back,
stay on track,
Cos i have a

And perhaps i’ll
Wonder, or maybe regret
Never touching the threat,
And i know that i will,
And that, it could kill,
And that pain will spill,
But then i would know that
It was real.

But a sin
Is a sin,
There is no win.
This is my battle,
my demons galore,
Waiting for me
To land on the floor,
At Satan’s door.

Universal, golden silence.

If time, stopped right now,
For just a single moment,
If everything, stood perfectly still, i’d stop, to check what was real,
I’d look inside minds,
see who was kind,
Look for the words,
That are so hard to find.
I’d fix,
The broken bits,
So everyone saw what i see.
Set people free,
i’d whisper,
Kick out the dents,
and discover what was really meant.
i’d walk alone,
In a forest,
in the dark,
With only the moon
For company,
I’d climb the highest
And show the world what
I see.
If time stopped for just a moment,
I’d look for me.

Butterfly words.

Some day’s it feels like,
a million
Are in my mind,
Each one a strand,
A single thought,
A dream,
A fantasy,
A forgotten word.
They rush through my blood,
Leaving me tingling
With anticipation,
As i scribble them
On random scraps
of paper.
Envelopes, papers, letters diaries, journals, words are
They are me,
So i set them

Gluteus maximus.

I totally ache,
but pain i can take,
My muscles are sore,
a medium score,
my gluteus,
Makes me feel like
A wuss, my arms
are heavy, my hands
Feel broken,  but at
least today, my brain has woken. I should really
flop, but life doesn’t stop,
I’m in such a rush, to do so
Much. I’ll swallow down pills, and use all my will, till the aching subsides, and i can get back on the ride.

Forever in a mess.

When i was young,
And having fun,
I’d pour thick black dye,
Over my golden curls,
That fell to my thigh.
I’d watch it
As it hit,
The side of the bath,
And laugh,
At my messiness.
Later, as it dried,
i’d hear my dad curse,
as he scrubbed at the wall,
And the little black spots,
that wern’t playing ball.
Now, i’m an adult,
With a bottle of red,
and i remember the words that he said,
As i scrub at the walls, the floor and the tiles,
I can’t help, but smile,
My shoulders are red, my arms a delicate design of red vines that spread across my chest,
I’ve never known anyone,
Get in such a bloody mess!