Giant footsteps brings me close
To the running water of gold
An endless stream of choice
Where life can be brought and sold.
My face turned stagnant in the waves
Tell me, am I me still?
Drowning alive has withdrawn my face
My reflection sizing up the kill.
Sinking as a dropping stone
Forever laid alive and cold
Wash away the sins I’ve made
My saviour this running water of gold.
One minute I was falling
The next I was free
In an expanse of wonder
A place of my dreams
Parade through the valley
Breathe amongst the flowers
Living here is magical
A second lasts for hours
I love exploring the fields
Where the horses run
I’ve only just arrived
It’s feels I belong
I dance among the trees
Shake the fruit from above
I sing with the birds
The song is full of love
I lye down in the grass
I look up to the sky
An echo rings my ears
Of you saying goodbye
A life gone full circle
An innocence released
I’ll miss and be missed
Though my heart is at peace.
Squint the eyes so this contrast won’t last
Open your soul to accept the wonder full force
Reflections are distorted when viewed from darkness
In this case ripple the surroundings
Sort through the findings
That float to the surface
Reach out, eyes closed letting the feel guide you
Grab the gift and safely pull it to your chest
Breathe and let the heart solve the rest.
Free hand to write
On the edge of polite
To the mind and soul
Moods high or low
Circling the pain
That keeps me sane
Will I today survive
Hurt says I’m alive
Praying to the God enveloped my head
Why own thoughts are wishing me dead
Confined to the 4 corners of my room
Take me now, or take me soon
Heavy head with knees a bleeding
Nodding still, crouching and pleading
Babbling a language all of my own
Can’t find solitude, until I’m home
Various flashbacks of whom im calling
Above my eyes raising and falling
Swallowing my soul, my light to see
Who am I?, who will save me?
Answer now or forever stay silent
So I can walk peacefully
Into the twilight
Spiralling out of control towards armless hands of bones. Flexing finger tips grab to bore at my flesh.
A sunken fever brings false saviours. Hope built and collapsed in flashes of imagery, used to pollute the faith.
Out of nowhere I am caught. Is this reality or another method of torture? Part of the punishment of this realm. No this dream’s real, I am touched by substance wiping my brow, mowing away levels of uncertainty.
I am higher now, feeling cooler above the clouds. A burnt smell furrows my nostrils. Panic sets in as I scour my surroundings. It’s not me but my protector whose caught by the flames. Wings are singed, though the descent upwards doesn’t waver.
The climax wakes me cold. As my mind blinks to work through reality, a figure in front of me bows, and evaporates from existence. There was no expression, but this essence produced no fear. Now i know blind faith is real, as Angels have no face, just a presence of hope.
Sleeping on half a sofa
Trying to ignore the stink
Shutting out the noise
Of her throwing up in the sink,
That was last night
I came to help my mum
I’m scared now that she’ll die
she’s only sixty one,
A victim of a craving
A drunk slave all these years
And when she shows remorse
There’s vodka in her tears,
I fear it’s nearly the end
All alone, she will be found
And when she’s laid to rest
Alcohol shall pollute the ground.
The first draft of reflective imagery that invades my mind.
Sucked into an abyss of astronomical proportions, swirling downward feeling the heat on my feet. Relief would be to perish and never look back. But this would be too easy, they’d rather I suffocate in possession of the intrusive thoughts piercing my mind, leaving transparent holes of uncertainty and frozen whirlwinds harrowing at my reality and convictions.
Point the forks upwards, forcing the inside temptation to scream and surrender under the guilty burden, invisible shadows climbing on my back. The weight shrugs as a reminder not to proceed with the idea of liberation and freedom. It’s part of the torture, the false hope we feed on for survival is desired of course, but only left for balance, for sanity to stay before Hell is reached. Turning downward facing obscene flames which spit obscenities, hurting the soul and spouting the stench of foulness like a spike billowing the winds of heart strings.
Prying eyes look on as a devils intent. Look is a stab, a stab cutting the Flesh and swallowing entrails of red and gold. Flashes of yellow signals the explosion of the soul collapsing inward, shades of grey elope and revel in the mix of light. In my head a giant, but not necessary a tyrant, though the horns and hanging flesh give away past intentions, and deviance outgoings. Will his look spill towards me, igniting the hunger in the eyes. Or maybe I’ll be spared, increasing fear and anxiety of the soul. Part of the torment. Being flippant with lives. Being a false remorse, leering at me, the prey, the gift.
Spinning discs pass my neck with a flys width. Razors designated to maime and cause surrender. My face blanches, filling the bottle before it’s spilt…