LocoMotive


 

 

you drift me into a cannon
of locoMotive breathes
screams of brakes strip away
my tracks
injecting steel blue eyes
into my vain
pinned against your skin
you claim my flight
I let go of my wings
naked you are the mirror
the image of me
no longer blind
I see myself
for the very first time

i am butterfly
my wings are unseen
my flight fear
of who i might be
this is the last stop
of who i wasn’t
when looking for me
was always hiding from myself

 

 

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In the Cutting Room


Image
medications of pain
Take 1 Take 2 Take 3 4 5 6 … Take
The drama plays out
always the same every day

Till the Cut

n fer a while the cut relieves the pain

and she sits alone in the cutting room watching mesmerised by the real of her life, dropping all over the floor.
Cut cut cut
she romanticises the unfurling of a red bud, a droplet that first forms between the smile she has open on her skin, that suddenly grows a multitude of buds too many to count. The buds grow full bloom n start to fall
The cutting of the real softens her pain with pain

She blinks with the slap of pain felt as she does that final cut. It wraps around and throughout her like a bandage of pain over the pain

Something sharp catches her eye as it falls into a pool of strange liquid its colour like a mix of iodine and ruby claret
She wonders to herself if she is drunk feeling oddly numb and complete at the same time

Like all things this sensation starts to fade
She stares at her bleeding heart there on the floor such a bloody mess

It’s time to wrap it up

The Queen of Drama.
This is my part on this Earthly Stage I have always played this part with heart as long as I can remember.
Now I can play it by heart

Just sometimes you know, I wish
I cod have been given other parts
Even though “they” tell me … You are given in life what God knows you can handle … Everything happens fer a reason … n There is Always a positive from the negatives in our life A lifetime of learning Means we are all teachers of very specific things
Still I wish I hadn’t been given this part
The pain
It hurts It always hurts It never goes away
No matter how many Takes

Cut
Thats a wrap
My bleeding Heart

When I was Twelve a Horse with Wings


 

Image

my mane
tangled in a wind of storms lets loose
hooves kick hard swirling a hurricane of dust across the valley
flecked with gold the black iris now in full bloom
my eyes fierce for flight
rearing to the skies
I nay screaming
for the wings of a raven
burning blades of tumbleweed
spin the skies to an unearthly colour
showering ashen snow
specks of silver shine like a million stars against the darkness of my nightshade hide

In the very centre of my forehead
a perfect star silver white
I am only twelve
twelve years old and suddenly I have wings
Beautiful shiny velvet black feathered wings
of a raven that span to the tip of the moon
and I a stallion
spread these wings
as darkness falls upon me
and take flight
#flight #escape #childabuse