Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
Why do I keep myself hidden in layers of self-control
Afraid of the dark whilst summer lines my curtains
Choking back these haunting fears, and numb
Is the only feeling that's certain
What joy can be felt today? Frozen yet
In feigned sensibility, I ask myself...
What joy can be felt today? Frozen yet
In feigned sensibility, I ask myself...
Tuesday, 28th September 2021
My reality is shaped in colours; a painting blurred in depths of hues, brushed by a wandering silence.
Thursday, 23rd September 2021
We are captured by a subconscious searching for recognition and a meaning that is found beating through everything - like the arteries and veins twisting along the ground where walks our feet.
Tuesday, 21st September 2021
I am a sucker for self-sabotage. My words, all of my own creation, fool me every time. Layers and layers of veiled truths that blind me--but I guess I am not looking at the signs.
Thursday, 26th August 2021
I haven't left but the spiders are already moving in
I find them in my bed, my curtains, dead and coiled in an old blanket fort
They ring the chimes that hang from my ceiling light
And find space among the creaking boards
I had a dream of this once, spiders hung in every corner and footfall
Taking over my life, my memories, as they crawl into the space left before
It is only when I know I am leaving, that I see the dust in the corner
And the tide coming in from the far away shore
Friday, 23rd July 2021
The moon was swallowed in a throbbing light
As the thunder began its climbing flight
And in the dawn of a swelling tide
She saw inside the world dressed in spite
Wednesday, 28th July 2021
Love is more than the dream wistfully painted across torn pages in dripping ink and meadows of wildflowers, by writers and poets huddled by candlelight seeing love written in beloved faces. Seeing love in yearning clouds slowly chasing after the sun's fragile rays. Love is heartache and hurt and pain - a climbing river pushing back against everything you know. It inspires and challenges, it breathes life and ends it. It is everything we want and everything we do not dare to have. Love can bring just as much destruction to the harmony it creates. But it’s never about what love is or what it is not - it is how we shape its destiny within our own lives that counts. Love will always be with you, but will you let it stay? And sometimes we know that we just have to chase it away.
Tuesday, 20th July 2021
At night in quiet solitude of the passing day
I turn the yellowing pages of the waxing moon
Molten in a burning light to show its age
And cast in pooling stains of inky blue
It glows in flickers of a dying candle light
Wrapped in a purple wreath, delicately crowned
An encroaching darkness consuming the night
It dims its eyes to rest amongst the drowned
Monday, 19th July 2021
I have scars on my knees from when I was six, hopeful of the days that I could run free from the tangled branches enclosing my mind. They wrapped me in with faces whose eyes always slipped across mine. And then they found my legs and let me slip, numb again from yesterday's wound. I would run, all limitations abandoned, chasing the friends I wasn't close to, always branches apart from the world I was already consumed by. But I was happy. And then I would fall. It happened again and again until I saw the danger in falling, now white stretching marks across the bottom of my knees. I saw the danger in everything.
Thursday, 8th July 2021
There is freedom in the shadowed storm as the veil-wrapped sky billows in a climbing release. I lay here on the rough strewn ground, a wilderness of rain-kissed grass, tumbled yarn, and loose cut threads. Find me in the running lake carving eyes into the overgrown path, lost to the planted sky now curling into a silver smile.
Freedom is more than just running through the rain on Thursday afternoons.
Wednesday, 7th July 2021
As the thunder roars in such tumultuous pain, the sun singes the rim of every cloud until the whole sky is cloaked in a brightened sadness, a softening grey. And the world will sit in shallow wine while the teardrops of the encroaching night play in ripples across the sun's sleeping face, waiting for the moon blank and ghostly behind the starless sky. It is new tonight but hidden from sight, it bows in heavenly patience.