nothing matters

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     It’s always been about the storm, the lightning destroying black skies,

the roar of my blood as it pumps, races, chases an acknowledged dependence,

and I let it catch me, limited as it is to your specific poison, to reach for the high of highs.

     Every hedonistic moment under your dominion is spent in subliminal bliss,

while your darkness delves deeper each time you pass through me,

     and I know time steals all away, that the fire now coursing through the night will peter out

into the ending of another badly written book, into yet another darkness,

but right now your madness is all that matters, nothing matters more than that.

Question is...

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I see you can feel eyes on you, the roll in your shoulders, you skim the room, a slight pause when you look me in the eyes. Your body shifts, turns, you hook your thumb in your pocket, let it drop, tap your fingers against your thigh, conversation forgotten, your face distant and intense. Walking towards the exit it's now me who feels eyes burning into my back. Question is, will you follow me?

Dreamers will dream

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Take me from this night eclipsing meaning, promises and dreams,

cleanse me of preconceived perceptions, beliefs and hate,

release me from what’s been written, by my existence ’cross history’s land,

and free me from the people and places which belong to me no more.

Let me walk barefoot down pathways, newly laid by time conceded,

let me sculpt with malleable heart as I feel your presence true,

let me love with the intensity of a soul who’s found your touch,

ingrained as it is in the night who leads the dreamers to full moon.

A Captured Dream

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A dream that is captured, is a powerful thing,

subjected to control by images the tangible cannot compete with.

They place your feet on the floor in the morning with expectations.

A purpose for certain things to be and to happen,

because if they didn’t it would mean you are going to miss things,

we value most things only once they are gone

or have been taken away….

The people you expect to see every day,

strangers of course, but also the one’s you dread seeing,

those you seek out, what if they weren’t there?

Your place of work, your desk, your domain in a maze much larger than you,

where would you go, what would you do, every day for how-many hours, if that changed?

You expect to meet a friend for coffee, pop into a shop to get your favourite chocolate,

but your friend isn't there, the aisle of chocolates has been moved,

and you drive home, where the light is ever so slightly different,

the remote in your hand is black, smells, recognisable yet changed.

Would you blink twice? What would do you think?

Might you think you’re mad? Might you think you’re dreaming?

Which leaves me with this:

Would you still do what you did today, say what you did, walked where you did, knowing you will miss some things, or would you do it because you wouldn't...

Let the darkness stroke your soul

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It’s hard to face the dark night, stare directly into its darkest corners, and without a trace of emotion, acknowledge every reality and hear every truth. Distortions are clear, cold the precision cut, leaves an echo, so vast is the emptiness. Lock that down tight. Breathe deep breaths, close your eyes, let the air around you fill you with your favourite song, and let the darkness stroke your soul tonight. "Don't die wondering".

Random nights

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He was a stranger, tapping his foot to an Underground tune,

she was the one who the beat vibrated through.

When she met his eyes on this timeless summer’s night,

their paths fused through sparkling lights and strings of sugar,

past the Carousel playing its favourite song,

and they rode on the hurtling roller-coaster,

where he accepted the invitation in her eyes.

The ride never ended,

did not slow its intoxicating pace,

they let the shadows pull them from the crowds and melted into a heady unknown.

She relished his reckless darkness,

tasted his wild desire,

he gifted her with his consuming presence,

she handed her body to him to own.

With New Moon’s rise barely a breath away they rose and parted ways.

He slipped towards the fading night humming an old Underground tune,

she smiled a smile of satisfaction,

then disappeared through deserted fairground tents towards the growing dawn.

New Moon's Night

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On this shore on New Moon’s night

reflections shimmer and silently shift.

Cool water melts into my skin, and I know,

I know without your thunder, there is no light,

without your breath, there is no life,

and I hear a murmur, it’s calling to me,

inflections from a soul who was shattered

by an ache ingrained, in her breath and in her blood,

so meet me in the depths of these dark waters,

don’t let me float out into the vast nowhere.

On the other side of the world

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    Awoken from its slumber, a streak of rebellion, a touch of self-destruction and let’s-see-what-will-happen-when. From a myriad of choices, my feet lead me to the dark alleyway of my choosing, without much resistance, because I don’t really want to… I slide.

   Self-control bows to the victor as I indulge in the familiar thrill that bubbles like water over rapids, formidable, yet I dare you to react, to sharpen, tighten, speed up, to see how far you can push me before my senses implode and I’m in a vacuum, and the wind, the wind, it carries me on cloudy fingers, until black overwrites…

   ...through the movie screen around me, I watch confusion through lifting smoke from fires not yet extinguished.  I see anger, tears and defeat, an empty treasure chest at the end of the rainbow, while I stand motionless, untouched by hand, untouched by emotions, silent and numb from my fall, and I wait for the light to assemble me once again, while the dark moves over to the other side of the world.

Seamless silence

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Your breath cools my skin while your eyes heat me up with their scorching rays.

Electricity connects, your skin with mine, a churning darkness erupts unstoppable,

its a fierce, demanding reaction, an instinct.

You strike deep and flawless, you feed me your tears, bleed into my being, wash away the debris of lost time,

and we mould for a while into perfect destruction, leaving the nations down below, gasping for their breath...... we collapse into seamless silence.

Next Stop: Hell

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We lose sight of our purpose and end up in a Cul-de-Sac.  We confuse responsibility with meaning, mindless distraction with living a dream, and we bleed empty hours to feed another's greed, whereas 8 – 5 should just be the means to reaching fulfillment.  Look at the Xanax face next to you, those racing high-speed through suburban streets, the frantic revelers intent on taking every social drug available to them on a Friday night… I cannot believe that to be anybody’s dream?  But then why are so many people doing it?