Falling is like flying.

I stand on the edge of rooftops,
Far weaker than I hoped to be.
I long to lean a little farther,
Help gravity to set me free.

Because falling is like flying,
If you’re not afraid of dying.
To wonder if you’ll hear the sound
As your body greets the ground.

I wish I had embraced deeper connections
To pieces of my life. Rejecting the rejections.
I’ve always felt displaced, alone.
So now I’m leaving on my own.

The view is such, that departing seems a shame.
I’m feel sorry for myself, there is no one else to blame.
I think I understand now, what mortality is for,
Insight sets me free from the fear I felt before.

And now.. I start to understand
Why nothing ever goes to plan.
And I realise after all..
It’s my choice if I’m flying as I fall.

death is..

I have seen alluring women in white
Anfractuous gowns, billowing on bridges in the breeze,
Standing stark against the night,
And I was afraid. Afraid of these.

Ever our obtuse disquietude of death
Has filled our mind like a crack, and in return,
In ignorance we have stained it black,
A symbol of our pitiful and vacuous lack
Of comprehension.

But would they witness what I have seen,
Deep within improbable realities of dream,
Death is not black, nor darkness, or night,
Death is women with eyes blue bright,
Standing on bridges
Dressed in white.

the leaky hooman

-for my cat. the only good thing left 💔

My hooman is leaky again. more than before, which I did not think possible.
(My hooman was already leaky a lot.)
it seems She is leaky from Her eyes Almost Always Now. are all hoomans so leaky?

Eats. Sleeps. Warms. these are Good Things.
maybe some hoomans too.
The Final Sleeps is not for worry. all breathers must Have their Final Sleeps, Some Time.

I worry she might run out of hooman jooces, so I generously Eats as many Treats as she tries to give me.
it seems to make her happy for a Short Time.
she Is worried about Me Having My Final Sleeps Soon.
I can feel It waiting, just like It has always waited, and will still wait until I Have It.

it is The Way Things Are.

it is The Way They Have Aways Been.

my hooman is finally having Sleeps.
I think I got an OK One, All Things Considered. I have Witnessed much worse hoomans.
I hope mine will be ok, I have looked after her All My Time Here.
what does my hooman call it ? ‘fortein yeers’
what is a ‘yeers’? silly hooman.

I will have Sleeps, Now, too. Some Time, Very Soon, I think, I will Have My Final Sleeps.
not Yet. but Soon.

Sleeps, hooman. try not to leak.

Dear Alice..

Dear Alice, I’m ‘fine’,
Hope this finds you in kind.
I’ve been writing some time
To you now, and I find you
Strange but the best friend of mine,
At least here in my mind.
Here inside of my mind, at least most the time.

Dear Alice, how are you?
If I am to stay true,
Then I have to confess
That I’m lonely and blue,
I don’t know what to do, but I couldn’t care less,
When the sky..The sky I swore would stay blue,
Is gangrenous in hue.

Dear Alice, I’m dying,
Lost and I’m crying,
No amount of applying
Myself
Really matters
Anymore.
And I know that we swore..

Dear Alice, I love you,
But I hate your guts too.
Everybody assumes
I suture up in my room.
With some string and old glue,
But I’m confessing to you,
There’s not much left I can do.

Dear Alice, I forgot,
To tell you just what
You really want me to not.
I sliced completely through our promise knot,
Along with my flesh, veins and a lot
That when I cut it apart,
All those stitches and knots,
Can’t put Humpty back up on top.

Dear Alice, don’t you
Feel the very same too?
It’s not just things I go through,
But all the things , all the things, all the things I’ll not do.

So I’m cold. On the floor bleeding out
In so many different ways,
And every wound is deeply laid
By every single wasted day,
The thoughtless things that people say.

And I don’t want to stay, no, don’t want to stay.
Not like this, not here anyway.
Hope you’ll forgive me some day.
My Dearest.

Love, Alice.

Falling With Autumn

I suppose the trees, in retrospect,
I should have attended, my neglect
Of time’s subtle scythe, and due respect
For their reminder; nature always calls,
And she who answers always falls.
A premonition of my future
Abandoned casually by trees
Crying red,
Dying, dead.
Autumn leaves, as they led
Falling echoes of my life,
Fleeting, fled. Underfoot
On which to tread, and I,
Despondent, sighing said:
‘There lies everything,
Don’t by it’s beauty, be misled.
The whole world and all within ends thus:
These dying leaves are us’.