Circles

Sparking fire, 

And the engrossing fire, 

Yet the clauatrophobia, 

Yet the free air,

I'm running in circles, 

Finding no corners, 

No Doors, 

That I could choose, 

To jump out, 

Or shut out. 

hidden

Flowers bloom hidden, 

When the goodbyes were bidden, 

I thronged the gallery of despair,

When the roof was lit by care, 

Benevolence hung from the ceiling, 

Warmth is where I seek feeling, 

Embers from the homely coal,

I hug the dainty sunshine,

Climbing into my soul, 

At a steep slow incline.

downhill

Deeper runs the night, 

Deeper goes the knife, 

Its all serene,

Monochrome screen, 

Nothing blinds me, 

But I can't see the stairs of hope, 

I rummage for feeling, 

But its a slippery downhill slope. 

fences

 void in life

you pull apart fences

and rearrange

for less sunlight

but you miss the warmth

you wished for the steel horizon

but the lack of running

keeps you numb

scratching for the light

but progress happens in dark

frolic searches for warmth

on demand

Freckles falling like rain

The mist that fogs the pain

Smiles are on demand

But projected on the face

Spell of the societal wand

The actual humour is beneath the surface

Prick you can, dig you can

Sit in the sun with me

Get a sun tan

Make this visage be free

But I can flash my teeth on request

Pretend as well you can manifest

porcelain

Split into two

Me and you

The nights fit in our shoe

Now the love is just a strands few

You painted me in porcelain

Shattered drenches of rain

I went back to the soil

The spotlight of love was lost

I had loved for the warmth

But you made me fine

Yet porcelain

the spectator curtain

 the night rushes on

the chaos settles on my breath

the curtain flutters in melancholy

dreaming about the rhythms of footsteps

words, and just silences

the curtain wants to let the air in

as it does with sunshine

but the cold makes me spread its wings

it cuts me off from traffic

and the curtain watches alone

as the road dies down slowly

only for the cars to rush in

with the coming sun

and horns blooming and basking in cacaphony

that puts the chaos from my breath

back on the road

tinted fog

tinted fog

clasps the air

and yet we run

beyond the fair

cling to the milestones

but hold the relics carefully

some could have faded to a stain

tinting it all

and making the feet stone

sanity

fleeting sanity

fly around and fall

i feel for gravity

it feels legs are to stall

racing ahead eyes

peace is plucked out for consideration

deliberated dissected

headlines next day

and remains ink to paper

while i search for a hook

to hold and stare back

for a long breath

floating ink

 I pulled out the flowers

were meant to be ours

we set it on a lie

and now that black night towers

it was love

but the roots were trust

i had to know

its raining 

yet i'm leaving the warm home

to forge stronger bonds

not a life that has just floating ink

and no paper

my doorstep

 parcels i left on the porch

they got cold

but the names though inked

were smeared years back

be it christmas

but I untangle the air with heartfeltness

with warmth that makes me smile

not just a glitter pen exchanged box

charity is not on my doorstep

pillow

 phone booths are gone

when they slip in our pockets

but you take the excuse even now

to slip out

your reluctance to take in the pocket

fogged my vision

if I saw 

I would see through the whispers

and the pillow of marriage I was sleeping on

would turn into bricks

on the chair, upright

 its the eyes only

the air keeps circling my face

keeping me upright

but only in the spine

hands on the chair

tears fall as thunder booms

in the other room

its the belt again

for the smile i brought home

but the lips are caked with dust

and life has concreted the tongue

i ring the bell

and a glare stares out of the door

i try and give a glare back

he smiles

and the belt it is again

malice on my shoulder

 malice stays on my shoulder

i let it reach my tongue

then chew it till the snow falls

and I spit it out back into my shoulder

there is a gusto for spitting on the visage

the crimson splitting visage

the visage that presumes closets to be my existence

i'm being polite

but the malice on my shoulder

is being bitterer day after day

i better spit it on the visage

before the hemlock flies me away

for being too polite

your hand, please?

 lofty ceilings of your warmth

promised was love

pamperings caressed me instead

i asked for a hand

not floating cages

blinding me

when life snaps this seat

it shall be a ditch

so just give me your hand

not your entirety

i want to throw pebbles in the pond too

pondering at the sky