Stained like a tea-pressed letter
Reminiscence, the enemy
Mould appears
Guided by the wrong sort of hand
And left blowing unattended

I wish I could erase this
darkness
Acceptance of a sort is present
But loss of a scrap of innocence is mourned
Grieved
No, it is yet undetermined if it has been lost

Naivety. It's scent l-
ingers
Broken, floating between two planets
This dirt though, is stuff-
(ocating)
               me!

There is no limit to this ever shrinking prison of ours

How easily you please yourself.
Your name might as well be conradiction.
Though without malicious intent how you look after yourself is outstanding
"Don't cherrypick" Dear.
Those were your words.
Contradiction
To starve 3 prisoners for a day
To limit their lives
You have the remote control
And you call yourself "Family"
Hours upon hours of my life are wasted by hours of your constant self-Obsession
Was it not enough to scar us all so deeply that there is possibly no-return
And then-
And then.
To waste your woes on us when you shout through ours
Your starve us now.
Through your own control, is your own child not enough?
Nothing is enough for you now
A black hole of consummation
Who is that?
Contradiction
You dont even realise you are rotting us while you bask within the warmth of others
And through the words of your undoubtedly biased mouth, with most certainty will they dislike us
We don't have a chance
Shout, SHOUT
SHOUT until the heavens hear you and even then you will not allow a word in edgeways as a reply
How deeply,
deeply
Oh how deep you disappoint me and you wonder why you receive resent?
Is it not enough now that I am almost at the point of no-return
You have stolen so much of our time
You can't choose to demand love when you feel like it
Isn't that right?
Thanks, for freezing us into stone
through your own selfish desires and you never understand why
Why?
Because you starve us
You
STARVE us
Starve us until we can't feel like we are wasting away anymore

We came into this world as we leave it,
A lonely soul with only a blank canvas in which to paint its colours on,
A being who begins a stumble which turns to a run, then a jump, a skip, a bounce, a run, a sprint
It is better, however; I find that by stumbling unsteadily through this giant calender which is our lives, we observe more,
You stay for longer in a certain place, and then, with uncertainty we move on to the next thing, all the while becoming the wiser
Fantasia drips throughout our minds, a flurry and a blur of reality, observation, opinion and thoughts-
A flurry of words streamlining this invisible book of ours, the ink, never running out to dry
Even a silent mind has a commentary
So, When it comes to that one day of the year when the bell tolls and the book's pages reveal themselves in snapshots, we realise how far we have stumbled
A what a joy stumbling is indeed
The ink will never dry, so just keep it running,
An illustration of culture fluttering through our minds should bring a dose of colour
So,
For this one day
Which has yet to end
Breathe in the memory of those brithday candles burning
And burn those around you into your mind and remember which pages you share,
Share the smiles and the crinkling of those surprises that await you in their own colourful shades of paper
Delight and rejoice with the ecstasy of memory, whether it is yet to come or not
And remember each second, is passed with a thought
A thought, as such is a suprise waiting to be opened by the revelation from the mind to mouth
Oh, and one more thing-
Don't forget to "Chink" the glasses of champagne held in many hands
Happy Birthday Mish,
Oh- Don't forget to dance

" I still don't know how to work out a poem"

"A poem needs understanding through the senses-
The point of diving in a lake, is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake...
To...Luxuriate in the sensation of, water.
You do not work the lake out-
It is an experience beyond thought,
Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery..."

"I love mystery"

"I found your fairy princess on the wall in my room"

"And you could make her out?"

"She wears a butterfly frock...Shall we continue?"

Fantasize, memorize and vulgarize this blessed spirit of mine
With this negative capability

They close against those sapphire shards
And the coffee begins to call
It beckons you with its homely smell
And you drink it to keep from falling under a spell
You continue on
And you realise something else is gone
Where is my friend?
My companion?
My "no-strings attatched"?
My boyfriend/girlfriend
My lover?
My husband?
My wife?
My partner
Then in dawns on with the sun rising for another day
These people do not exist for you
And you wish you had fallen under that spell
And not fallen for that ol' cup of coffee
Because you can't dream anymore
And your alone, Again, to wait for these people, YOU WON'T BLINK AN EYE!!!
So you force open your eyes again and hold on,
Until the next dawn comes,
When the coffee calls
And you have forgotten
But only to remember
And continue this lonely, never-ending Cycle
Of waiting for no-one...