Morning Commute

The sky looks like my sheets
When I peered through them blurrily this morning
Or like an ocean of white
Tides paused in motion.
I felt the rumble of a storm on the horizon
Sea air sweeping my face,
Before I boarded my train.

The imagined life

sometimes id rather imagine life than live it

like watching it through a screen

the lights seem less harsh

looking through frosted glass

its too stimulating, too exciting to actually live

instead let those images dance before my eyes 

let my mind manipulate the flow of reality

the path of unknown 

unpredictable as english weather

id rather not leave the house then

because what if i needed a jacket when i thought I didn’t

what a calamity

no no

better not risk it

in the reality show

reflected against the screen of my mind

it can always be sunny if i want

even if i miss those warm rays stroking my neck

at least I’ll always be sheltered from the storms

no no

better not risk it

ill stay right here watching my shows

Noise

do you see how i fill the room with noise

it smothers the buzz that is always there

trailing around my forehead

hiding beneath the line of my hair

stinging my scalp

ruthlessly piercing holes

so drop by drop bits of me fall out.

I collect each word you say and keep them in a jar

Those words you mindlessly said

Play over and over in my head

I fervently cling to them

Use them to cushion my weary head

Build a play fort which against the cotton walls

Projects images of you

In my mind I dance with your shadows

Convince myself that your smile was painted just for me

But when the projections tremble and fade

I am alone

Those words you mindlessly said

Sprinkled them into the air without a care

You would never imagine that I would collect them like petals to keep in a jar

Until they turn brown and rot
So you would not recognise them if I showed you again.

Spring is here

Spring is here

A pink mist flutters above the trees

Earth takes in her long awaited breath

As the flowing brooks tumble softly down her back

The petal strewn winds dance freely

The crystal voices of our feathered sopranos
twinkle beneath the sky

Daffodils bow their crowned heads

Spring is here

I smile

And with Earth breathe in

My heart dancing with the breeze

Ready to sing the first song of spring

She is sweet

she is sweet

i take in the nectar of her scent

whilst nuzzling plump blushing skin

covered with its translucent velvet

i drink her in

her honey juices

trickle down my chin

how could something so divine be produced of this earth?

she is tender

so very ready 

her perfume intoxicates me

i wish to never part with her saccharine flesh

coloured by the suns caress

oh what a ripe peach!

My throat is dry

My throat is dry

Let me drink in your praises

So I can laugh again

Like a babbling brook

Rocks soaked in the glittering 

saliva of the earth. 

Goblet of Youth

Time slips through my fingers like water

before I get a chance to drink it in.

Just as droplets jump with frenzied desperation 

from the table-top edge,

Salty tears splatter in untiring array 

as I try to refill the spilt goblet of youth.

I crave for my cracked lips 

to be bathed in the tranquil azure of possibilities

that rise like steam before lazy, overslept eyes.

For the saline potion to bring me back

like a jolt from a dream

to the words unspoken,

the mist veiled paths unexplored,

the hand which never learned to yearn
the lingering ghost of my fingers.

Buzz

Days drift by like shadows before I can catch a glimpse

I look at my hand and try to remember the feeling of your fingers between mine.

Icy air passes through my lungs
onerously
as if they are bored of breathing.

I watch the grey sky and wonder how long these clouds plan to stay.

I wander the city,

lost

not with the usual sense of novel excitement though.

In and out of bookshops like a subtle breeze,

through bustling coffee shops in hopes 

that their percussion 

will drown out those voices I do not want to hear.

Through lazy parks

where motion is on pause.

This green haze leads me to a blissful suffocation

where lack of ventilation means my mind too slows

even if just for a moment.

But then I must go on

I cannot stop

If I stop I will surely be consumed

I fear the night the most 

when I must stay in the dark

stay in one place

where the speed of my body cannot match the speed of my mind.

I wander like a bumblebee that cannot see the way out 

even though to others it is clear as the crystal glass 

as a cloudless sky.

But how to make these clouds go away

I huff and I puff but with little result except my head hurts

the pain is dull and aching

it spins around and around

so I cannot seek solace in even one corner of my mind

Clear Umbrella

She had a clear umbrella

Because she never wanted to hide the colour of the sky.

Even when the sun was swallowed by grey,

She would look up and smile

Because she knew the clouds would soon pass.