out thus

windy summers
with rain pelting down
its a day for covers
over my heart
over my head
over my torso

back

just link your finger with mine
i miss that
comfortable.

im caught off
because your reflection
looks like someone else.

just give me that half smile again
i miss the way
it makes my tummy feel.

i guess i cant ask for more
i let the change drop louder
i didnt choose you


guess i didnt choose anything at all.

the coffee smells good in the morning
but i wish i could still see your skin
and bones
and ink splattered arm

new zealand

get your ass there

now that im older

Sometimes all I want to be
is in that

cigarette handed

coffee wrecking

havoc

taking

one and only


day

come alive old soul
when the memory is weak and you keep forgetting
come alive old soul
remember the sunshine on healthier bones
(yet even dead bones can rise from their sleep)
come alive old soul
your maker made you for better rather than worse
come alive old soul
see the picture is wonderful even if not so perfect
come alive old soul
life's not as dark as they've led you to believe
come alive old soul
the battle is won lest you think otherwise
come alive old soul
you are not worn and torn as you think
come alive old soul
because the spirit is willing
even if the flesh is weak.

in

cafe

flags causing shadows
fooling me
they are humans
moving across
distant walls

jumpin in broken

a tearing of the heart tissue
is supposed to be fatal
but im jumping in broken

pains in your chest
that make you wonder
if
this. is. it
but im jumping in broken

when most of you screams
stop
you wonder if you should
crawl up and sleep
but im jumping in broken

because broken
is more fixed
than anything you could offer me

through the cracks
in my facade
you will see
perfect power
thats not of me

so
im
jumping
in
broken.

i wish my heart was breaking for something
less selfish
for the poor
for the broken
for the homeless
for the victims
instead my tears are selfish
and out of my own selfish heart

i write
because i think i might
be able to pen down
why i try to take flight
when all in all
its a fear

a clutch

when i think
my ink wont mean that much

because i cant scribble down
the promise on my tongue
and i cant scribble down
what i have become

the difference
is a distance
and the distance is so far
that the past is what it was once
and future is amongst
us

its becoming
its becoming
what was written then
so maybe my inspiration
is not longer written with a pen
its typed
deleted
back forth and fro
its on the digital mindset
but this mind set doth flow

and the air is heavy
with the creative
or
the
creator

so to do it justice.

i
write

at the moment

it is as they warned me
but i
thought i was immune

here i am
battling with this
sickness
trying to take me down

it wont
and i know that
but its hard

i need medicine

the world isnt comfortable like it once seemed

you never know the extent of ache one heart can give untill you feel it break and then imagine it lasting forever.

music

remember the 90s?

and

also.

those who feel that tugging. that mingling, those who see the formation of words bleeding together.

why dont they acknowledge it.

so i know its not just me

smush

its an interruption of another soul. colliding.
but im not sure if the other
always feels the collision as much as i feel it.
to me, in that moment, things can slow down.
i notice this Being, i see their potential, a yearning rises up
ever so slightly.
to walk life with them.
yet i always wonder, do they feel that impact.

of two different

yet very much the same

worlds

meshing with words
pouring
flowing
imparting
creating

something that wasnt there before
but something that could become

to they feel that? sense that? know that?

or is it


just me?

me.

there is this raging
overwhelming
that is sitting
in my stomach

it attempted my throat
but i was not as bold
to let it scream out

i shook my head violently
but i only ended up
dizzy

and to stomp my feet
only lasts so
long
till they are aching

this thing in my stomach
like a hurricane
its stirring its stirring
emphatically

so i sit and i write
stamping out letters
with my finger tips
as i feel it
and i feel it

sometimes all
that can be done
is to sit
and feel
the ache for kingdom
come.

brains on holiday too

I had some sort of clarity of what I wanted to write before. but I soon got distracted and forgot it.

im simply so tired.

I have said it a million times over. but I can not face such late nights. I don’t spring back like others. last night my body was a brilliant wreck. I felt as though my arms looked like balloons. but alas the swelling is all on the inside. probably the same place that I should leave the complaining. however as of late that’s also been a struggle.

im genuinely worried that Damien rice is lost all faith in love

and that TIM Burton had a bad childhood

and that I will keep making the same odd little mistakes. like not writing. nor taking enough time.

nor simply being with Jesus

being too sociable

I am also concerned that the fairy lights will not turn off

be turned off

and i

I will be wrestles

but too half asleep to tumble down (bay) and turn them off.