Wanna know about life?

Honest and upfront is what I do best. I’ve avoided blogging too much or connecting over the last few months because I’ve been hiding a lot of guilt and shame –

so I’ve been doing some thinking.

No stream of consciousness or poetry in this post…

Are you still with me?   ha ha

I write for myself first  and I always will.   When I write for an audience I lose my way easily.

Apologies if this is old news to the more evolved spirits reading this. 😁

Daisy has an epiphany.

I’ve been contemplating on the saying ‘dig deep’

 if you decide to use this quote to get you through an experience

Do you  know  why you need to dig deep?

My humble findings are what follows

Because whether  we become aware and conscious, in this life (or not) about my  proposed notion of  the meaning of the ‘dig deep’  quote

(that’s a bit wordy. ha ha)

here it is:

from our very conception into this life

-Our first breathe – we start to dig our  own grave.

We begin to design the lay out of where our  final resting place  or end will be.

It would epic and less stressful if from the moment we are born we knew  what we are  meant to be doing.

Many  people never figure it out or, if they do  its too late to ask them if they have for obvious reasons. 😞

Many  people decide to choose a saviour be it in the form of an icon – a god, a person , goals – money, love, careers, addictions , etc…

We strive to find something to focus  all of our seconds, minutes ,hours and years blatantly meandering about on this planet.

Be careful who you allow to support you – some people are so busy trying to save everyone else,  ( we all do  it at some point) we forget our first honour and duty is to save ourselves and know our own purpose.

It’s known in psycho babble terms as the dramatic triangle.
Most of use tend to flit between these roles depending on the situation we are in ,people we are around   etc.

To digress,

Many of us go on to  have children who rely on us – depend on us to teach them how to navigate their own path – how to create their own resting place – and to be conscious that each action,

each decision they make has a hand in determining how they will die.

Teaching others to rely on themselves is blessing not a curse.

Only when we are  faced with our own reflection and with no other help but our own resources that we have  collected along our journey in life ; will we know how we will get to the other side or to our end in this characteristic form.

Some off us  end up addicted, or come to  our end at the hands of illnesses like cancer or dementia , car accidents etc.

Many of us are not aware that from the moment we are given independent life we are consistently (for better or worse)  building our own coffins .

is it fair that we are not told this from our first breathe ?

I didn’t make up the rules in life or society.

We – I – can only govern myself and my actions.

Be wary who you try to help or who you accept help from.

Don’t get mad when people let you down

they are doing what they need to do – following their own purpose.

Some  people never find out what their purpose is.

Dig deep.

How comfortable and aware of your surrounding do you want to be  when you take your last breathe in this life.

We create our own Elysium  or heaven or utopia even –

sometimes it’s not what we want –

 but we won’t  know until we are swimming against the tide or even hanging ten and riding the wave.

 I do know that I want to be as conscious and aware of my choices ,limits  when the wave crashes .

My personal  chosen Gods have always been  tangible- in the form of fully crystallised human beings -flawed  just like me.

I think I chose human idols to put all my faith in to

 so  that I can have a go at someone  when “they” 😉 let me down. I want to face my own success and disappointments A-sap . Patience /Sabili is not a strength of mine.

 I need to look at a reflection of myself to determine I exist.

it’s not easy to figure out life- there is probably  more evidence for the saying that instead of trying to figure out life- it needs to be lived – consciously and with purpose.

We can live with purpose and not know if that purpose is right and we can live consciously and not know what out purpose is.

hopefully,  with the aid of  our experiences we can decide which of the  tools  or resources we need to use if/when  we have a “I’ve possibly hit the bottom of my pit”.

How do I bypass this mythical minotaur  I’ve read about?

We wonder  how or,

if we  can

or ,

are able to  crawl out  and up out of it to  place where we can find  some  sense of comfort.
We wonder if we have the endurance, courage and motivation to get out of coal mine

Whether it’s worth finding a running brook of water to wash the soot from  the I side out.

The alternative option is that our final resting place will be exactly where we decide to rest – in this case the bottom of a pit  . State the obvious 😂

Only we  can make our ending  a place where  we feel we have done everything in our power tosit amongst the angels or the gods of Olympus or whatever it is we believe in that will take us through from the beginning to the end, where we can  feel at peace with ourselves.

Some of us – most of us never get to that point.  Downerz 😁😁

I don’t know about reincarnation but I am aware.

Society  tells us it’s a selfish idea

‘ look after yourself’.

Human beings are wired to reach out  but how we do that and to know our boundaries and the boundaries of others is tricky and a part of the dance of life- the cha cha

one step forward backwards thing. I’m full of cliches in this post.

It’s scary to know we are ultimately alone – only we can change our selves – our emotions – our ideas – our path.

It’s hard not to resent others or life for making us so capable and resilient.

Damn  you life! How dare you 😂

it’s easier to choose to not see the bigger plan – the idea that yes we govern ourselves and we must govern our selves and own our actions and our lives.

and at the same time understand that every move /choice/thought we make – has that butterfly effect –

we cause the ripples .

science has come up with a terminology -a language to help us understand our position in this world, our make up , what and how much we are capable of – how much responsibility we all have

How significant just one body made up if molecules is :to the rest of planet balancing out or toppling over –

We have nature to compare ourselves to – an example of what happens when we fuck up our ecosystems – when we put element a somewhere  and take out element b from somewhere else.
It’s trial and error.

We repeat – the cycle continues.

The fear of being alone is a lot scarier than actually being alone

When I am alone left to decide -I choose to swim and come up for air.

I remember that I have walked the earth with legs , I’ve flown and seen the world from a bird’s eye perspective.

I’ve also stayed a rather unglamourous amphibian  thinking I’m in a vast sea surrounded by  a fellow  hybrid form of alluring sirens

I choose to live  another day. I don’t know if my choices are right or wrong – time is what it is.

People in my life , of my life

I love you but I don’t need any of you  In the way I have allowed myself to believe I do.

That’s it.

Do i  decide to fight the battle every day or  fall  back into walking state of  slumber

The lure of fascination 

Write to recover

Don’t underestimate the power of a few choice words from another.

Still the mind-frozen ice bar decline

Mountain conquest-The victory is in the scenic  songfest

Emotions sprayed in clouds of mist.

A place so far from  the abuse of the daily grit.

Fight to recover — remember hope strives in another day

Feed and nurture this seed-give it an opportunity-don’t let another life sit and decay.

Losing time — people fragmented in a hazy rhyme.

Distance double flips somersaults. Impressive only till the sun dims less radiantly  clocking off to snooze-lay down with others in benign.

Can only write when thoughts form a Congo – order, progress-the dance in this words come from a heart who usually expresses in mime.

Inflicted amoeba-exhaling indignant carbon monoxide. I despise seeking out for the one’s cued up at at destination  ‘one stop’,Integrity lost standing mid line.

Metamorphose into a grey lizard , eagal or indeed be reborn as the mighty phoenix.

Third degree  burns — death — ashes to ashes worth the pain to be reborn into the matrix.

The urge to sin imparts thoughts to defecate-all held sacred in the church of integrity.

Not enough to know the meaning-practice is what gives this value its credibility.

Walk the straight line — fight the inner hate crime.

Searching for a divine sign-reason dictates energy must endeavour with one’s moral  retuning — to refine. 

Speak up for the light that waivers-clinging on to its last breath

Inspired by an element with the capacity to cause devastation or provide a clear path leading to expulsion ending in

 relief.

One wish to formulate all the intelligence into an honest medium of communication

History teaches-not all understand the world on multiple levels of perception of another situation.

Courage to flush  the contents highlighting the spiral of organic destruction.

One day at a time — one moment to lie. Craving for the mythical Elysium.

Compulsive tics  create a house of pain-exhaling tension-contain the nuclear feteus-natures own opium.

Losing track of the words that stumble — imbibed drunks-hungover searching for  a quench of delirium.

Evade – This is the time when courage fails to conquer life’s illusive temptations — the bell tolls-the seekers contort to fits of tingling.

Invisible to the faithful patrons in full  stasis cycle. A burden

a cross —

communication interrupted by Manic pleas to bear Atlas boulder with herculean madness lingering.

Cross eyed staring at the lit up pyres, 

smell of human flesh disintegrate into a ritual released for those travelling the unknown path of death.

Reason can’t imprint enough ink — memories inclined to dementia bouts of forget.

Last nights shallow breathing ,shadows taunt — loom over until the inner eye seeks regret.

Promises made in a plea of  chaotic desperation

Only to be forgotten the day after  the congestion lifts —   arise the sleeping urge to  compete with this  peculiar fascination

 

 

 

 

Extra Extra- Tories mirror chicken

*photo credit Francesca Woodman*

the pen is indeed  mightier than the sword- The weak will draw blood first. 

Daisy Willows

Shame on who ?

Me?

for having an opinion,

a view

Of the outrageous Manchester bombings.

Killing off innocent lives of younger generations.

Who truly wants to show who has global  dominion?

Silent politician  — the most deadliest opposition.

Spin a Democide on the innocents who make up the majority of our citizenship.

Deplorable act.

Corbyn speaks for young hearts with his  Robin Hood mannerisms.

Noble enough to plant a feather in his cap.

The conservatives  make a come back with  hyper  sensationalist  plan-

What a way to react.

Theres a difference between responding to the people

and scaremongering those into a statement of hatred against immigrants

Western Tempers raised to look to the East for another insane bomber converted by the Quran.

A classic destabiliser move  to keep the people less equal.

Social media doing her rounds — vicious terrorists — chuck the unorthodox  bastards out.

Who funds the organised crime unit?

Who knocks another nail into societies faction,

sense of community to sustain a world clouded in doubt?

The injustice of this hypocrisy makes me want to fall to my knees.

Please,  open your eyes-look ,

see

The bigger picture is not to look to a country living in a refugee crisis— riding it rough trying to traverse to safe shores on the tremulous seas.

No person in their right mind want’s to leave their own home.

What would you do to protect your family when you are staring at all your belongings obliterated into another political stitch?

Woven into the conditioned mind-fabricated lies — bursts of walmarts own clothes wash-Iron fist scented smokescreen.

A white wash to cover up the Theresa May in a niquab to bypass border control — look to true snitch.

Jumping from a sinking ship.

Is it not  to enough to destabilise the economy?

Divide the minds of the people  to instil a state of dichotomy.

Don’t buy into this cycle

Don’t let  the  Imperialists continue this barbaric  rule.

Capitalise on the vulnerable  they choose to keep less insightful.

Fundamentalist terror is home grown.

18-25 year olds orgasmic  omnipotence   can  save the united kingdom.

not just this is England , with  welsh sheep murmurs whispered across clouds seemingly made out of foam

Venerable private pensioners ,I respect your views

Wake up from this nightmare.

 Giving up your unneeded winter fuel tax allowance isn’t helping to secure a strong future our children.

Let sinners repent . Let justice and humanity  reign.

Have mercy  on those who live in the world we  are yet to share.

The stench of politics arrests my heart.

Don’t desensitise now

When death is  imminent for your fresh start.

Elysium can exist in this world not just the next.

Divine heaven!

Look up by all means –  It’s all generic text.

Look around and see the plight the innocents in this have to wage.

Stop this merciless hunt to cull young voices — remember the wisdom  a child imparts with a mere smile.

They are truly the ones who are sage.

This is not a foreign terrotist ISIS attack

If it is-

It has been funded by the most conservative ,vicious Tory pack.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do or die

Sitting on the roof top trying to tell myself I’ve not misbehaved.

Blush rose hues creep up my cheeks and I know my hearts desire is unexplained.

I look at the stars — one always stands out brighter than the rest.

I say to myself — there goes my next conquest.

With liberal wings and green peace in my heart ,

I know for the sake of inhabiting my skin-unconfortable feelings will always play a part.

Forgive me for  being free spirited and seeking out a bon ami.

If I had testicles would  my new gender let me walk free ?

to be me?

It’s a plea.

I love what I desire .

I desire what I love .

I hate it when my sanity decides to imitate a neat whisky on the rocks.

Truth be told – I know I’m getting old .

Disambiguous feelings about the path I tread.

May my daughter’s laugh always bring me round to the sound of present day clocks.

Murmurs of hesitation .

Live my life, have a voice, and sail away

Where else do you think I would choose for a holiday destination?

The one I never have to come back from.

It’s me inside me.

Dare to take a part of me — feel my anticipation.

The specials-the after math.

Told  off for  my impulsive reaction.

The fact I’m conscious I am typing these words-

I feel inauthentic in how they roll out my mind with a hesitant tense formation

Words rise up ,around me – Jab me and a jeer me to dare say whats on my mind.

I’m not a child and I’m not venerable just yet .

So I swim against the tide of the alphabet soup.

Clarity I seek.

One tidal wave from forcing myself to write these words down;

If only to reinforce I have my own sound.

Sound as a pound

Scared of clowns .

That’s better-Socs — that’s my deal.

My contraband.

How I get from a-z- without reaching out for the  plan involving illegally, prescribed Ativan.

Banned from my perception of the elite.

Breached my licence to complete…

Should I hit delete?

This is my beat.

I won’t let me beat me down.

Self is the worst enemy-you know how it ages your reflection

scowling in a frown.

She’s back in business now . Wah da da da da — the song clearly has relevance in my sense of decline.

Fall 8 times — get up again.

Who am I to want merely blend in?

I was born to be a Bengal feline.

Character building — life coach ,I sense my patience won’t let me vote for your reality T.V. yoke.

It makes me sick.

Confession .

Watch one episode and I will mutate into just one more cockroach.

I’m on the down line with a mean upper hook.

Priorities in order.

House work infected by the pox — aren’t you glad you vaccinated your park life children?

Let my demon free to infiltrate the anti’s, confront them with the disease bitten book.

Have a say — what’s the worst that can happen?

Speak your mind — illegal aliens might just descend from that planet called Saturn.

Write to recover. Write to escape.

Shake up your mind , dare to continue —an inner ongoing live debate.

Not for hate — you make your own fate.

Feeling Anxiety. Too worried about what John Sax’s might reveal to his munchie  queen.

Know thyself and be true to yourself.

I’m not going to change my character to fit in with society’s latest heart melt.

Superstitious mind – I earned it in walking my path — did you see my black belt?

Stand up for who you are and what you believe in.

Some may consider me strange but have you had a look at your inner heathen?

The entity is back — no wheel-dealing with a bad batch of sugar coated crack.

6 million ways to die — choose one 

That came from a song – Who am I to sit around and hide?

 * DEADLINE  for EMA  Sunday night.  *

 

The song -contains  some cussing and may offend feminists …..  😉 Maybe not this song 😀  Idk.

The unsensational one dimensionals

 The pain inside me remains the real deal

It’s  a tragedy how I  only cruise on wordpress when I have tears dripping onto the steering wheel.

The journey that promotes me to tap away is always inspired by an ill gotten day.

Deal with the past. It’s too easy to blame.

I swear, I  look forward.

Stand up for where I  go wrong and who I  maim.

Revolving doors of asylum,  inpatient wannabe beauticians.

Incredulous  that  my  own mother

bipolar, institionalised,

beaten by her lovers and suffered her own ills.

Thinks its better to throw me behind the institution with E.C.T.  waves and the  barbed wire.

Jesus had a crown of thorns – aesthetically cruel in their Romanic decisions.

It’s  a loop on a loop.

more drama –

 Every.

Week.

It’s.

Something.

 New.

No.

every week its  the same song coming out in different shade of blue.

This won’t disappear by erasing my face from your mind.

My child is my glory.

You wonder why i can’t take this lying down?

 instead I give you the flamboyant, cussation  sign

 Call the crisis team.

We live in a Theresa May ,Tory sperm infested  government.

I’m not suicidal.

I’m not drinking

I’m not overdosing

 Not taking drugs.

Merely holding myself at a metaphorical  gunpoint.

I want to protect my family from the inner Iago in me.

Deceives and twists all the good my heart seeks to see.

A mighty herculean -blinded by rage.

Numbers  are his torment – he looks to  them like riches dripped in gold.

an obssesive compulsive disorder compells him to have less –

It  must be all light  and sage.

Alone , i wake up to the sound of silence.

No daughter to say good bye to ,

 no husband plodding about drinking coffee and watching QI on rinse.

In Africa I would be welcomed for my rise in weight.

I’m not in Africa.

I’m in a mind fed on media, with distorted ideas about what to look like.

Social media , I hate.

Insight is a curse -Ignorance is bliss.

Two weeks away from my deadline.

 Post graduate, Daisy willows , in the Humanities

I  should be riding out to the ocean to collect my sun’s kiss.

I feel like I’m there for everyone- I listen  to their woes.

I jump up and celebrate every time they make a success of their lives.

 They shine so bright – I call them my ‘little twinkle toes’.

I know I shouldn’t expect,

then I wouldn’t ‘t get disappointed.

I do,

 i do…

I do..

 life.

I keep up appearances until the night terrors pull me out of my bed, torture me under veiled sight.

 Days

 filled with  infected cuts and perceptions line up disjointed.

I’m not the only one who doesn’t have a family!

So, why do you get the hump when i have no other alternative but to call up the family intervention team?

I want my daughter to grow up without these bouts of fits & confusion.

the cycle of poorly managed mental health to skip a generation .

 Enough with another  ‘daughter following  in her mother’s  steps’ delusion.

There is more to the back lash of her tounge and callous remarks than plain  old wickedness.

We are a narrative of complex emotions bound up, in a body of flesh and bones.

look beyond your eye line fall.

Seek and you  will find a person who is not transparent -less.
Sick of seeking approval from social media one dimensional folk.

Cull the people who can’t see it for what it is.

 Fakery

 it’s  beyond a joke.

Cutting down on so called friends.

re catagorise my means to justify making  ethical ends.

 People see right through you

Unless your name is printed in black and white.

The best stars shine and go about unseen,

making wishes of hope seem bright.

Her rage tips over the sides – the current for those who get credit for being generico stereotype.

It’s all hype.

they barely even look alive.

I want justice.

I want the people who make a difference

 to get credit where its due.

I’ve had enough of this  fake bakery .

Diabetic shots brings out the bad assery in me.

I’m done with pretentious folk .

Emotional  vampires who expect.

Because they think they precribe the ideal look.

Its sad, a shame.

Don’t get caught up in the superficial.

Remember, reality goes way past the fantasy of this screen.

Cos we naturally wired to be a human being.

We need to communicate

 reciprocate.

Technology has purpose – it’s not for living life in a kumbaya state.

So many lies,

people all have ties

Issues-

That keep them  reaching out for 39p tissues.

I’m here for authenticity.

Denounce those who I see,

in all their duplicity.

I can’t be good and kind to all that seek attention.

selfish,

marred

 How tragic is this situation?

Goodbye to many of you.

who will never wake from your boggled  eyed fallacy.

I don’t do this out of spite or even maliciously .

I see clearly what and who holds me back.

My sole purpose is to stay on track.

So good bye to some of  those

I’ve met on my path

Good luck with your life and everything that comes with decisions aftermath.

I aint got no more energy for you.

My people, my life needs my attention. Arrears paid up –

Well overdue.

 Mini life update 14 days  until I  hand in my End Of Module assessment for year one of my Masters. 😛

I will have a post graduate certificate in the Humanities 😛🤓🤓

I have news….

A director (not name dropping) wants me  to send him my script about the homeless couple.

I don’t think Im going to……..

Or maybe I should …..

I don’t know.

I’ve never thought  I was a good enough writer to see my work brought to life.

It”s scary to think that success is possible.

Rejection is normal, but the more I distance myself from the people in my life who made/make me feel shit about myself, and my abilities, and my sense of belonging; the more I  meet  people who see the good in me .

 I don’t want to feel like shit around people.

So, I would rather be surrounded by a small number of those who are true and think I’m cool ish 😎😉.

Let the rest of world get their claws out in their need for attention, and to be heard.

 Be humble.

Life is a blessing already

One thing is for sure. I will never work for fame. I will always work for justice and what is right.

I’m struggling, but never will I give up or give in.

This heart beats.

These eyes have fire behind them

DAISY
Xxx

 

end of Nervosa beginning

She conceives words as they follow. Military soldiers conform to order.

Dissident few stutter in a withheld, race identity, chalk circle.

Her brain won’t allow her to move on.

Lamenting for  a trusted source.

until then,

Life halts.

Collapses onto hot tarmac. Too tired to alter.

Melt her heart.

Resuscitate the breathe that gives her corpse a reason to impart

A post

worthy

For a creative outlet,

Her own personal work of art.

Hands raking  through her hair. Grip  at the sides, pulls out a chunk,

Its cool,

She’s dating an alopecia hunk.

This funk makes junk.

Eyeball sockets sunk.

Maybe,

It would be better if she didn’t care if the words weren’t her own.

Maybe ,

It wouldn’t matter if the characters  didn’t continue to harass her.

Calling for their story to be heard.

Multiple attempts. She can’t cut out cardboard citizens.

Maybe in an empty space, yes.

Verbatim theatre could work.

She submits  to an elusive entity.

Virtual paper work-enough to bag a colostomy.

Not been on here much.

The guilt makes her turn her head away.

She gets it,

She needs to reciprocate.

Sincerest apologies for not being present.

She’s surfing the web.

Googling data  analysis and Lady bosses fine tuning their hold on her own grip.

She prefers to lie down  on green pastures than make love, on a bed,of  green bills any day!

Unfortunately, life says she has to pay in paper too  to make some headway.

It’s all right. It will pass.

Shivering from the inside. Lack of carbon dioxide.

Waiting for the critical to report how much recovery time she needs before Muse Goddess ups and leaves.

It’s a look of a person. Shrivelled  into crass.

train

Thought-rhyming is a pain in her  ass.

She’s laying it down in quick dry cement.

She’s  empathetic,

she knows we all want to be that portrait

Well, hung.

She’s a portrait too.

Has her needs

Open your eyes-reach out to touch her.

These layers of skin hide organs, bones ,

And a heart so tense-all it can do is wheeze.

“This is me. I can’t deny it.”

We all have a life.

Hers has become a familiar rendezvous with Alien Jackson sporting a mullet.

What does it matter if characters are Black, White or Hispanic?

Social realism settling on common ground upon its release.

Not for an escapist’s  palate.

What is the state of  theatrical politics, on the horizon, beyond that place we call-

a future?

Statement.

Not even two Bonds can be saved.

Edwardian era

high necklines

Pearl earrings engraved.

Cavities,

Her gums are in recession.

Blame the bank and the Tories.

Her feminist views will place blame on those next in succession.

Watermelon-shaped breasts

One larger – hangs limply from her chest.

Commit a mastectomy on  her femininity

Humans fight terminal illness, homelessness…

How dare she think her position is dire.

Utter profanity.

Disbelief that that her renegade words  follow in a Capitalist order.

Letters appear

She falls onto her  knees,

Thanks Ashanti for her daughters.

Time to shove a half pill down some pussies throat.

Its nasty ,

Its dirty,

Doubts whether deep throat works

She’s trying to  stay afloat.

Her illness-the chronic versus the opposite divide

Stereotyped bullshit

It’s her personal narrative that finds her  margined between this blank space on each side.

Calm and serene.

A  mother is  reborn.

Lost for 3 days — late – couldn’t rise,

Her mind was indeed full of scorn.

Today, she waits,

Wrings out her anxieties.

Maybe new teeth will  win her  virtual friends.

Give her more appraising  likes

Maybe, they will finally see that she is real,

vulnerable ,

rearranging her mask-unsure of what reflects back at her multiple ‘Me’s’ 

Discombobulated

Her reflection is divided  into  pieces.

Cant fathom out that there is a whole entire being  to examine

Jig saw puzzle unresolved ,

yet again  crippled to her knees.

No prayer.

Fervent  sweeping up of  shattered glass.

For a figment of a second she saw an outline

Perfectly crystallised.

Stories march in protest – for plot out lines, dramatic structure, scenes, reveal characters in lace

Just enough exposed  to show.

Three more weeks, one year down-more time for unadulterated fun.

If you don’t hear from her,

Know she weeps every night  into  a whisky soaked bun.

It’s a metaphor.

Let go and melt the sun.

Cool down its temper.   Versailles gardens make her think of France cut into a jambon quarter.

Carry on till the end.

All the books say she ought to.

Humming a song

Doing her  thing.

A mere whiff of failure invokes convulsions from within.

Weary, purged…

‘Write for myself ‘

Truth , integrity and courage is the only way she will let herself be heard.

If you can’t accept her-carry on peeking over at her life, not mentioning if cuckoo finally flew.

One day, you won’t be able to tighten Ids screw.

*Inspired by a kish kash,  Mish mash of nerve endings and beginnings .

Everyday churn

I’m having a nervous breakdown

No tear gas needed to see my features frown.

Give up, let go.

It doesn’t matter.

Give in , give away the words

I write from my inner chatter.

Pride may come before a fall.

This writer is mad and frenetic enough to bawl.

Sleeping alone with a furry bengal.

Live and breathing, nightmares shedding one too many a ghoul.

I live in fear of letting myself  fail.

It’s more innate stubbornness that leaves my face pale.

I’m sick of over achieving. I’m jaundiced from worry.

Projectile thoughts invade my space. illegal immigrants hide in my quarry.

Work so hard and see no results.

When I see the rainbows end -I may watch the blood seep from my wrists.

The mind won’t let me have a moment off.

Fatal escapism needed

a dose fit for a carcinoid cough.

Every moment – liquid drains  my lungs.

Torture

when talcum powder is  blown into organs.

Mop up creativities flow.

I can’t breathe in this dungeon.

Get out of my way ,don ‘t look at me – snarl and bite a portion out of your flesh.

Vegan turn rotten, core bound up with an unnerved bile uprise.

Human machine venting  for my inability to refresh.

Hold up my dignity

keep me in stents;

make sure I don’t end up in a coffin embellished with the last person buried alive.

A scene far too surreal and intense.

I’m spent.

I’m howling.

I’m a lunatic.

I’m prowling.

Injured.

You scare me but dammed if I will roll over and play dead.

Like sand through the hour glass

blink once and the deadline is almost head over arse.

I’m scared of failure

I want to be the man to pull out exacaliber.

Merit and knighted.

how shallow  glory is,

I’m far too short sighted.

Immobilized in a zombie fashion

Micheal Jackson thriller

Nearly forgot to yell ‘action’.

Take me to a planet fermenting in sushi.

I need a trip to find my very own mighty booshy.

Writing is my hoochie. 😁