Desolate Stars

Invisible mind's boxes, tied tightly with feathered bows,and treasured dreams kissed with a promise and written in distant symbols, scribbled in the backs of hands to remind me.
It's my favourite time of year, winter's Gold and summer's Blue skies at night, the sounds of my dreams like the pouring rain. I can feel the weight of the entire world, even the seas and it's glassy intricacy.
All the fire in my heart can't keep me warm, not tonight. Smoke rises and swirls around me, enveloping my skin in a wild texture. There's something strang in this dismal part of existence (I can't tell what)
I was on a mountain, in the middle of time with lightand stars that poured over my eyes. I saw my reflection through the glass, and it felt strange (the dicolouration of wax)and i sat on the rocks, by the sweet smoked sand. Nothing else to say then. Only to smile at the waves under the desolate stars.

I wish i could

Breathing seems hard, it makes me laugh, my mistakes under the
Ripe sun, marrying a life of love- staying for that first look,
Pulling back the curtains to bring in the light.
So bright is your light
And strong, eyes pour into mine, tears that I try to wipe away;
You pour your soul into me
With your thoughts and dreams. I wish I had.
It can't be so wrong
I swear I heard you say no, on that day of contentment
I wish me back to that;
Dry days in green
Golden skies with stars, fly with the wind
What does it mean to stand beside someone?
I can never tell, it confuses me till my ribs break
And I feel dizzy
These thoughts make me drunk.
Now my house Is full of water, they came through the door
When you showed up.
You wept on my shoulder and stopped running, I wish I could fly for the both of us.
But I can't, its not enough to just care

An open letter to you

My thoughts rattle in my brain, and thick knots tie around my eyes and my skin making breathing harder (like a speeded bullet)

So what if I’m a child whispering in the dark and reading aloud, till the endings rhyme…like a child under a kaleidoscope. You said dreamers lie and so you must never have seen a sunrise, my friend. I’m not the branded deceit, fumbling in a misguided ecstasy of winter gold and night-time teas, to hear screaming and laughter made by whom?

Who varnished this day-dream under the yellow-paged moon, and brought wordless nights of heated nothings? Fickle hearts can’t be alone and a lie is not a bad word when it comes from a stranger. Now it just makes me laugh to think of it… all those wasted teas

pointless petty war

Before you know, the moon divides across the skies
The shallow light blinding, asleep and deadened
Earthquake under the sea, dreams whistling in the air
What does it mean to be asleep? winding in the wind
I can see a different march, peaceful blues inside of grey-
choking up our lungs

My Silly Rant.

All the little emptiness of unspoken words just loiters through the capacity of my room, my world, whatever this imaginable ‘intricate’ is called. I hate the eerie, painstaking noise drumming in my ears with incessant contempt, so I close my door and let the world fall over me. With arms wide open.

The air holds my breath and breath carries words and all the little thoughts of the day and its reckonings; thinking things through and weighting its delicate weight on the palm of my hand, closing things over so I can go to sleep.

Outside is like a picture; the trees dance about the lilac skies and arch over the strong fences. It’s a silhouette in a mirror found in reels and reels of film only in skies and skies of the past; still hoarse and wavering like the surging river’s course.
At night its dark so company is nice, where I’m not so much alone as my dark walls. I pin pictures up and posters along my bedpost to paint my world with the things I love. My little dream-catcher works sometimes; glinting and swelling over me like the thick lavender air (it’ supposed to help you sleep).

Life sometimes makes me laugh, though in a detestable way, but it still humours me to some degree. It only makes me laugh because it’s stupid; the hateful things people say to each other, the injustice, just the pure recklessness of some poor soul who runs themselves over in their own dim-witted rants; the world is spoilt; though this is my rant. I allow it to myself.
Promises made are promises broken and sometimes it’s hard to look back. The embers of the past fires don’t glow, it doesn’t bid itself to, it accepts the reckonings and all the emptiness. But I don’t, and I cannot. I want to dream and sleep free. Like a bird to air. Like waves to wind.
I might open that little door of mine, but for now I will weigh my thoughts entirely. Before the end of the world.

start of an unfinished story

I don't know exactly how it all began, so it puts me in deadened position to clarify the matters of which I've been exposed to, so I'm not truly aware of them myself. I never got used to my life before it altered so readily, everything moved too fast, people moved in an act of aggression to get to and through, the lights were always too bright, and there was always some old bad news accumulating. But i never anticipated for this. I'd take back my Oh So Simple life, although before i found it hard to endure, but it had to be better than this.

Film- Candy

About Candy:

"Candy, a beautiful young painter, is in the first throes of love with Dan, a Some-time poet.Their love intoxicates, like paradise, like Eden: they care only for its increase, for the abandonment to pleasure. In Heroin they find the limitlessness they are seeking. Their future together is invincible and Candy believes that they will be together forever. But as their heroin habits gets the better of them and their money dwindles, the dark side of addition changes everything"

An extract fom Candy's poem:

Once upon a time, there was Candy and Dan.

Things were very hot that year.

All the wax was melting in the trees.

He would climb balconies, climb everywhere, do anything for

her, oh Danny boy.

Thousands of birds, the tiniest of birds, adorned her hair.

Everything was gold.

He was handsome and a very good criminal.

We lived on sunlight and chocolate bars.

It was the afternoon of extravagant delight.

We are a proper family now with cats and chickens and

runner beans.

Everywhere i looked

Sometimes i hate you.

Friday- i didnt mean that, mother of the blueness.

Angel of the storm.

You pointed at the sky, that one called sirius or dog star, but

on here on earth.

Fly away sun.

Ha ha fucking ha you are so funny Dan.

I broke your head on the back of the bed but the baby he died

in the morning.

I gave him a name.

His name was thomas.

Poor little god.

His heart beats like a voodoo drum.