Reflections

Sparks..
Floating hot
..like… embers…
..memories?..
Flit erratically … and
I remember..?
Separation.
Thought from mind.
Mind from thoughts.
Reality from …?
and then The Dance.
Floating.
I have found the fae-folk,
And they are angered.
My intrusion, unnatural,
Unwanted, unwelcome.
I step forward, but cannot.
You may not cross the barrier
In such a manner, I am told.
Go back, Human,
Even Death does not want you.

Feel the spin?

Do you feel it?
When you are down,
Down inside yourself?

Those deeper dives.

The separation and fear.
Silently Screaming
This isn’t me!

All the while,

Clinging desperately,
Tighter still,
To every failing fragment.

Tumbling between

The darkness of the void,
And the bright splintering light of insanity.
Feel that sickening

Sickening spin?

Dead before due

Around my house
They’re planting cemetery trees,
And there’s no breeze.
No bees,
Forth, or back,
As the flowers all bloom black,
In a garden such as no-one sees.
And the children play no more,
Where once they played before,
Outside my door
In the street.
Nobody can see me now,
At least, unless they choose,
Except the girl that lives in the house on fire
And pretends she has new shoes.
She says hello
From time to time.

Songs & forgotten daydreams

I’m older than this time yesterday,
But younger than seconds hence,
I feel there’s so much more time to spend
On the other side of that fence.

I know all the lyrics to my favourite songs,
But can never remember the tune,
While only the grace of borrowed light
Allows you to see the moon.

I’m surrounded by good looking daydreams,
Of who I want, or want to be.
I’m in love with my ego,
But my ego don’t love me.

That Hated London Sweater

How quickly happiness becomes
A devoured distant moment.
She looks at me, in essence, like
That hated London sweater,
Once gifted by her grandmother.
How she would burn every thread
If such an act could pass without remark.

Like the bright eyes of a Blackbird,
I too have brief, bright moments of hope.
And I hope, indicated by a nod from
The old chess player in the park,
That ‘Things Might Improve’.

Instead he said “things only get sadder.
Be it one lump or two, they all dissolve.
The way each of us dies,
Just..dissapearing..then swallowed
Back into the dark.’

“I’ll tell you plain, that you
Should have expected it by now.
It is as it will always be,
Like an icy dagger,
In her heart, and in her hand.’
He nodded as if I should understand.

But I can’t relax. I’m spinning like
Galaxies around a clock,
And when I chance upon the rarity of a dream,
It’s in white and endless days.
I walk alone, and I weep. Weep
For my Guardian Angel, perishing, always perishing.
Never knowing which pieces are her or me.
Never seeing the tiny bloodstained feathers.

ForNeverEver

Did you ever never
Stop and ponder whether
If forever is a never
that simply will not die?
Then maybe never is an ever
That was severed from forever
And will eternally endeavour
Wherever, whatsoever,
To reconnect together
From the tragically cut tether
That was in a manner clever,
Keeping ever, never and forever
From being ForNeverEver.

Sharp as a hammer

There may be those who think I’m just not that bright.
But I can find a door-frame in the dark,
I don’t need a light.

There’s no mail service here on any weekend day.
I know the letterbox is empty,
But I’ll go and check it anyway.

If the remote doesn’t work
I mash harder,
If there’s no food in fridge or in larder,
I’ll check two-dozen more times just to see,
If something appeared magically.

I can open those childproof caps,
But still the hot and cold taps
Confound me unless coloured or labelled,
Or why a tablespoon is not for the table.

And I still trust people,
I still open up my heart.
And I still can’t find myself
In the dark.