Worth

 

The worth of all I thought I wanted holds no value

against  priceless things, now gone, I took for granted.

 

 

 

The boy who couldn't love


The boy who couldn't love, tried with all his might

But, much to his dismay, his efforts seemed not to be quite right

He travelled East and West and past the stars above

His longing never ceasing "Wont' someone show me how to love?"


He saw the bluest oceans, the sun's rise and the moon's crescent

He pained to see the beauty but alas, none, now love was absent


The people that he met there asked "Why this desperate want?"

The boy just shrugged his shoulders "I've tried to love but can’t"


Then for a single moment, the boy did think


"Alone, no longer shall I dwell,

as I still have life

and life is love 

and love is life, itself"

 

 




Nearly there


Feels like I'm neither here nor there

Am I getting close? Nearly there?

Quickly, forward, round the bend

I see my starting place again




Space and mirrors



Suffocated. No one understands. 

The energy put out to try and view from another stance

Another failed attempt at life. Seduction, by kitchen knife



No one sees the pain, so I take control and break a seal.

Let the pressure flood right out

It looks like dark, but I feel it like light



The sea it howls inside my head,

The cries of long forgotten dead.



Rotting from the inside out

I take control and let it out



By the way, what’s this universe about?


A brand new stranger with each day

Drains me of identity

There’s someone not knowing how to be,


He stares into space, and mirrors, glaring back at me.



 



 

Oh, my little toe


Oh, my little toe.  I've never really noticed you.

Only when I hurt you and you turn all black and blue

But, now I've cleared my mind, I realise that all this time

You've been busy keeping all my other toes in line


So, my little toe I'd like to let you know I care

and that I really do appreciate all the work you do down there.


The Excessive Horizontalist  


I’ve become vexed with lying down, it’s not what I’d choose to do
I’d like to run a marathon or dance all day in Honolulu.

I often dream my life’s a scene from some action packed movie
But I’m catatonic counting stripes upon my patterned duvet.

Fatigue? Fatigue? It’s not Fatigue! It’s lead inside my limbs!
With muscles aching night and day, a severe condition, grim.

I’d like to travel round the world: Sydney? Paris? Budapest?
But I’m trapped in this Inertia, an excessive horizontalist.

So, you think I’m looking well?
Thank you, but in return I’ll say.
My brain and nervous system are not usually on display.

Your uninformed speculation I have to reprimand.
As unless your own blood turns to glue you’ll never understand.

My bedroom ceiling is not quite appealing, as the one in the Sistine chapel

 

So with the passing of days, I hope with this malaise
I will no longer grapple.

The heartless beast


Impaled on the teeth of the heartless beast. I am dragged.  Kicking and screaming.  Into a dimension of undiluted torment.

 

Completely separate from the living.  Yet, somehow, not entirely dead.