Fingers tightly wound together and eyes screwed shut
Ours is not to reason why, ours is just to try to fly
I’ve been thinking too much about myself
And it’s playing havoc with my mental health
The sun sets, the dark rises, and my need for warmth
Goes unsatisfied.

Untitled

Him of the tall stature.

Of the sneaky smile

that slowly spreads across his face.

Him of the quick wry temper.

The slow moving anger that

grows and bubbles and bursts,

like a bush fire taking hold

and running rampage.

But more often

like a small contained coal fire...

that smokes and lies in wait.

The Space I Now Call Home

I feel the need, the need
for speed, or some other
kind of amphetamine.
I’m slowly going insane…
My days are numbered
the numbers are shifting -
don’t play their game.
My head, it rolls, the dice
are rattled, the rain, it comes
it only rains when it pours.
the city shifts, it calls, my name
I have to follow, I only
walk in the shadows of
tall buildings. To see
my name, in lights, I feel
the need, the need, for speed.
the rain it comes, it washes away
my aching head, the dice are
rolled, the game has started,
I feel the shift, the fall, the
rumour of new-impressive-beginnings,
my feet, they walk, they follow the
sidewalk through the city, my
footsteps, they fall, they echo
my name, across the space, the
space I now call home.

Riding the Train

Riding the train
The gentle purr of sleepers,
da dum, under my feet.
Peeling decrepit houses pass quickly,
flying past my scratched
murky window. Fast.
Stations with names like
musical tones, discordant
jarring vowels that roll. Hard,
around my tongue.
Factories reflecting the artists
of my time.

My train window, now a
modern gallery, as my eyes flicker,
beat by merciless beat, over
Angry. Sharp. Vibrant designs.
Trees - cut back - yearning
to be free, towards the light.
Branches. Imploring timidly
to reach beyond the rail fence.
Viciously.
Cut. Back.
Wounds smothered with
paint. Pain disregarded.
The train, a slumbering monster,
clanks forward. Uncaring, sightless.

Do you ever let a day escape you?
You could reach out and grasp it as it slowly
fades, but, you don’t. Instead you wait
and slowly, slowly life passes you by.

Dappled sunlight moves across your legs
Turning to night like the midnight blue of
your satin skirt.

As morning comes again you rise
but hesitate as the mist holds you back.
and all the while life passes you by.

Your grey eyes, they watch and falter
quickly shielded by your lashes a hint of
emerald green revealed.

Overcast, the evening of your day wanes
and recognises the existence
of the pulsing flow of vitality under your skin.

Your vision starts to clear
You reach out…
And slowly seize the day.

The Beginning

I've realised, after I took a poetry course last semester, that the poetry I've been writing all my life is pretty shite. It had potential, but no structure what-so-ever. I learnt a lot from that class, but what I learnt most is that other peoples input is indispensable. So, here it is. Enjoy, and let me know what you think. Be nice :)