You twisted my words
How nicely you made it seem
As though I was the one
Who had turned to ice before your heart had melted
Sorry is a strange land
It lives somewhere between denial and acceptance
Is a truth worth the burdon of unhappiness
I will take back all that was mine
And hold my own face in my hands
Your palms were so warm for a while
against my tender skin
which beckoned for the touch of another
Tears fall
But im glad to be back in my own skin once more
I will turn the music up far too loud
And dance in my mind to the journey that will now begin
Never an ending to this madness
Thank you
Im not sure what ive learnt this time around
But thankyou all the same for
Spending a little time
Drinking a little wine
Dancing beneath the sheets
To the uncurable desire
Known as lust
When the dust settles
You may understand
But I doubt it ...

Let me tell you,
A story.
I'm going to spell
This out to you,
Plain and clear.

In a hazy but pleasant dream,
A crying man turned to me.
He told me, in an impromptu elegy
For the forgotten worlds,
About the repetition.
I vowed to him, I will change that.
The state of constant confusion.
Birthed by evolution, can take a hike.
I will push forward, letting my wrists bleed
From the serrated edges of the shackles
that bind them.

I will remain safe.
Hidden away from the chains.
Supported by my knowledge.

That premonition will be my spur,
To let loose everyday.
That I will blow down
Their paper shelters, tirelessly.
I refuse, to identify
With the hollow, false, self-deluding face,
That they throw at me.
Without reason.
Without care.

Vine of the soul
Releasing of the animal from within
Eyes burning ****** red
Gyrating around the fire
A depraved vision quest
Wandering in the desert
Seeing what was left of who I was
And the animal that I’ve become
Armageddon was here
And gone

from the inside
I look out of,
the frosted windows 
of my eyes

I'm swimming 
in my own skin.
in the same way one 
might swim in a shirt 
three sizes too large

I'm cold but, 
I don't seem to care. 
actually I do, 
it sparks curiosity in me,
my own discomfort
comforts me

I'm more interested 
in the sensation of the smooth glass
underneath my fingertips 
than the discussion around me

I'm calm. movement 
makes me sad.
I'm content just not moving,
my back bent and 
frozen against the cold metal 
of the locker,
my foot falling asleep 
from the awkward bend of my leg,
my *** quickly losing 
sensation, unnerves me

I'm not happy and
I don't know why.
I'm disconnected from the world 
but I have not retreated into a fantasy.
still half asleep 
but not yet dreaming.
an observer to my own body, 
my sensations and the world around me