The Filth That I Clean Up

I don’t see why you’re laughing,
Indeed, all of this is your fault. Look –
Everything is in its place, ready for you to see.
I am done cleaning up the mess of your past.

I blame you for the restless nights,
Understanding only the need to run and hide –
While everything falls apart and blends,
Until you return to smudge the surface.

Still I clean, washing away with what was prescribed –
With little comprehension of the stains.
All that I see is the dirty hands of elevation,
Feeding me and draining me.

I am powerless to resist the mirror-image;
The side that everyone knows and loves.
‘Great fun’ they say, ‘Life and soul’
And ready to collapse into the filth that I clean up.

Nightmare

Sometimes I have to question my own Questions –
Second guessing what I think, then hoping that My conclusion is some kind of rationale. In truth, I cannot really ever trust my own instincts as sometimes I think the most ridiculous things that at the time are perfectly reasonable to me.

I think I am the personification of what a bloody nightmare would look like if you could write it down on paper. It’s so hard to keep track of everything and I suppose I’m reasonably lucky to have a half-reasonable intelligence to try to make logic of it all.

How can you trust your own logic when by definition, you are capable of illogical thoughts that seem reasonable? The signs are there but sometimes alas, it is impossible. It is a nightmare. There is no other word for it.

Pushing People Away

I experience Love Everyday;
I reach out to touch it,
To see the essence of friends
In warm embrace is heartening.

No more than a stroll away
Their smiles are infectious;
They glide through the air
To reach what they have been seeking.

The second-hand experience –
I love seeing people happy;
But I wonder if this is enough
To be happy Inside artificially.

The crying ache of an opposite –
A loveable soul that I would tell everything.
It has never been further away;
And when I reach out,
I See myself, everyday.

It has never been enough;
It never will be enough;
While in the surrounding embrace
We move away together.

Learning

Well 2017 is just around that familiar corner,

So what have I learned?

What can I bring into the new year to guide me?

It’s odd, but the same answer crops up.

I bring myself; that is achievement enough.

Red Loop

​I wiped my brow and sobbed –

Everything is clean and fresh.

Today, the machine was complete;

A portal into the past, wow!

I will choose simplicity; two days ago –

I would still be working, finishing up;

What a surprise I would be to myself!

The strain of completion drains us all,

We obsess with perfection; dull pain

And headaches bleeding into the corner.

Ah yes, two days ago, how could I forget –

A test run to warm the components 

Complete with Shiny metal contortions.

I don’t remember why I struck out,

Just seemed unnatural, crawling through

With arm extended – grinning horror.

I just kept hitting until all stopped

And there lay a pool of my future.

Had to forget…keep believing….

Change the subject and remove the stains

That fate is surely nonsense… breakdown

Of atoms that can change in seconds.

Momentarily I was not myself;

Should never have been so close

To the hammer….my eyes were alive!

Heart was beating, pounding –

And then all was quiet. Success.

I will offer my hand in friendship and smile

And it will finally be over.

Conversation

​”You don’t talk very much, do you?”

“I think I talk enough.”

“I don’t hear you talk that often at all.”

“Are my lack of words strange to you?”

‘No. No not really but…”

“you see, social anxiety is tough. But over many years

I have learnt that being in rooms with strangers

And acting normal is a completely pointless endeavour;

You look more socially anxious. So, 

I hover, picking up conversations that interest me and

Choose my words very, very carefully so that I have 

Meaning and purpose to a group of people. With this,

I enjoy talking to people more often and begin to accept

That while I am still mentally insecure, I can play a part

And still accept that I am essentially unique.

You see, I’m not ashamed of being different, but if

Planning ahead means that I can enjoy the company

Of strangers and friends that little bit more, then 

I am content to hover and silently choose.”

…………………

“But thanks for noticing.”

Parallel

It is an interesting scenario that I face,
you might say,
Turning left, then right, at the same path
every single day.
Some might say that I could have moved; I have it
My own way,
However, this is not true; I am struggling with a
Parallel dimension
Where left and right has no bearing on the wings
Of ascension;
Except, maybe to keep me within the very
Fine tension
Of This two-tone street – So narrow and with one
Humble abode
That I stare at every single blasted day; a callous,
Cold road.
However, I couldn’t have it any other way,
Truth be told,
For life is so simple when one has only two
Options to face –
We see left, with its familiar winding steepness and
Lack of grace
And of course, Right; unknown, dormant for
The human-race.
Moving forward helps me back to the clearness of
My window,
Staring through, deciding on which path to follow
Tomorrow –
Though my mind is always set on straight ahead;
Absolute sorrow.

Tragic loss – Up and Down

I wonder
How people fly within themselves to be stronger, to grip those wings and carry on
past the sky, With Floating colours streaming down through our lives
Gliding high
Grounded pathways, true –
It was not for you.

We see him
When sun shines bright to pierce our hearts we remember, of all the highs afflicted us
Like a drug, A burst of reasons not to follow it through
Highs and lows
Yes, we know the path –
It was not to last.

I fear her
In equal measure holding on to the mood change, the memories so silently
Fall away, they crash right through and hit the people below
Tragic loss
In your death, you grew –
If I only knew?

Suppression

Into my Dreams
I see what needs to be seen every night
In its simplist forms within gravitation, flashing
Over my head and sliding out the pieces.
Large indentations of feeling, suppressed moments
Of a time when pushing deeper into the recess
was almost a certainty – necessary.
Some float low, taking an interest with attraction;
The higher beams – Clouds in the eyes; frustrating
To ultimately be unreachable.

Seeing into this little world with eyes wide and aloud –
The skin can sit somewhat softer when needed.
In reality there is no hope to access when awake,
What is needed when you are really Wide open.
Drifting horrors of twenty years past stay high –
They must; that is their purpose, they imprint pain
Without swooping down to suffer again.
No, they stay put within me, outside me,
While I feel what needs to be felt
To drift off for another watery-eyed night.

This is how it is everywhere;
This is how I can survive.

Counting

I never imagined the shadows surrounding me.

In truth they only appear in obstruction,
sliding over my childhood hiding places
And blending into the natural midnight air.

If I see them, they see me; we turn together
And hide as the same in contrasting harmony.
Dancing, swirling to the cry of the turbulence
In patterns of illumination – On and off.

Knees bent, in the usual corner
I place my fingers on my inner self to catch –
Find reason for this enveloping misery.