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.

Waking levitation

I saw myself six months ago
In a dream that kept me awake;
So striking the resemblance
But really not me at all; at least
A person I will only hear about.

I simply will not go back
To the place that brings me home;
Six foot above the covers, looking down
To a motionless body; So beautiful
But something I will never see.

I know I will be back of course
Hopefully on my terms this time;
Asleep with my thoughts to myself
Alone; A world view in an eye
Searching for the answers.

Forever fantasising in Rhythm
With the noise firmly behind me;
Held back without force or effort
Into a tearful night; Crying out
From the waking levitation.

Lone

Empty house so full of light –
Breathing into every new day;
Open-plan demonstrations in twilight
With me and my bed in the middle.

Empty house take in the air for us –
Circulating freshness in channels;
Bitter fighting in the blind spots
As I try and hide with sound appreciation.

Empty house in the wooded clearing –
New life with every open window;
The yellow flames twinkle to white
With duck feathers all around me.

Empty house with it’s picture presentation –
A testament to well loved oak;
Standing tall as the lone warrior
Sipping in the morning air in waves.

In Memoriam.

Slow Drip

Dripping through the cavities
We see each other; hidden, obscured,
Yet very well aware of the decay.

The picture frame is hanging
Obviously at a slight edge, angled;
Unnerving all observers.

We are literally who people see us;
There are no cracks to cover at all.
The surface is bad enough to explore.

Everyday is a sweat-soaked trauma
Of keeping ourselves together;
We are all in this spiral mess.

The pains are imagined; universal.
Experience is the key to survival;
Understanding what pain actually is.

Two way

Keeping tabs on laughter
Holding on to purse strings
Limiting desire –
You know it’s all I want to do now,
You know it’s all I want to see –
How, making me feel easy
Blanking out with staring
Watching for the first hand –
We share exactly what we want now,
We share out memories and time –
Show, hiding all our good days
Beating up with talking
Hurting from the inside –
My struggle kills off my true feelings
My struggle ends my hopes and dreams –
Seems, hating all the movement
Shielded from the real life
Laying down and sleeping.

As We Set

Blue veil of promising warmth
Holding everything inside,
Beaming through the radiance
Searing lifeforce far and wide.

Red patterns of stained heat,
A mark of seasons length.
Sweeping down to strike you
For tagging on to strength.

The white air of day
Draws you in with light,
Seagulls know the true
Path – Try as they might.

Grey matter floating –
Blending into chalk
To create madness
Within careless talk.

Deep rouge without foundation
Blanketing the walls in silence.
Mixing everything in place
Within the compound balance.

And then we go to sleep,
To dream of merrier times –
Between the conscious.

I am awake

Alive and alone in my dimension
Staying up to exaggerate the time;
Clicking fingers to feel the frustration
The pressure is understandably mine.

I close my eyes with water caving in
My mind wishes to flicker lids about;
Body Quivering, goosebumps on the skin
Car head-lights place my body clock in doubt.

Twisting and turning to end the shaking
Rotating to Back, again to the front;
Racing thoughts that my Deep skull is making
Tears are racing down my face; waterfront.

The fear is being kept alive with sheets
Soft and fluffy, a Coffin of deep calm;
Wrapping into the darkness, it repeats
Then I lay there motionless – ticking bomb.

The spirit is contained within the clock
It rules night with an overbearing glare;
Any effort, you are met with a shock
Being forced to constantly check and stare.

So here I am as darkness turns to light
I lose again, each time worse than the last;
Lifting and rising; so try as I might
I worry about tonight; So downcast.