Ideas Draft 3 I'm pretty sure i used to be ok I'm sure someone used to keep me safe Maybe it was never there Sure, that's gotta be the reason But there has gotta be a time When, presumably, I thought it all worthwhile If she always needed me, Why fall apart now? Just how much could one girl give? And just how much can one boy take? It hurt me as i watched her legs buckle As she continued to try hard to smile Perhaps it was really worthwhile .

You Make Me Sick (Draft) The panic reminds me of sick dizzy confusion, Old migraine vomit and pain The fear holds me tight as my eyes widen in horror And I realise I cannot refrain From recalling the times when everything turned to hate It's all coming back to me now The cuts and the scars, your caring abuse The bullshit I somehow allowed I knew it was coming, as my body fell over Sick from the smell of stale piss My stomach screaming at me, I wish to be numb And hate my continued weakness Those old metal bowls, in the public toilets They're the places i hate to see most Through tear soaked eyes there's a face wretching bile Puke pouring all over my clothes And i'm wishing to stop, let go of this life That you beat into shape just for me End this right now, pick off the old scabs Start with a new memory But the endless stream flows and my back's buckling now I can't hold myself up for much longer Thank you so fucking much for the twisted disease You never knew you were feeding your daughter .

Madelline (Draft) She starts her day thinking "Is this all there is?" And falls asleep knowing the answer The pills were meant to fill up the void But only made things clearer Whatever follows will never matter What came before mattered just as little She considers how horribly sad she would be If only she could feel In a short space of time everything she has done Will all be completely pointless All she can hope for is that when it does come It will be relatively painless "Make what you can of the time you have" She lies to all who come near her 'Cause every single flower dies Even plastic ones eventually wither .

mirror eyes (Draft) She likes to watch the people, as they pass her by. She likes to see their eyes flicker to each others, she likes to watch them breathe. She likes to see them smile, and hug, and kiss, she likes the contact and the comfort. She likes to see when he buys her flowers, and when she kisses him back, and he's happy. She likes to watch the people. Her only wish, she tells herself, is to get out there, with all those pretty people. Breathing with them, moving with them, being with them. She wants to meet the people who will kiss her cheeks in greeting, and the other people who will give her Beautiful smelling flowers and creamy, soft chocolates. She wants to feel the warmth of each person as they brush past her skin. But she can't. She shouldn't, she knows she can't. Tonight then, she prays. Prays to be with the others, to be part of it all. Prays to be involved, to be unified. Prays to be able to touch them. Because, That's all she really wants. Morning comes, she hopes she is free. She hopes to be able to reach out to all of them. She hopes that hope is enough. She proceeds. And, for the briefest of moments She is able, She feels her soul lift up high into the clouds, with them all, and finally feels unified. But then she notices something strange, something unusual, something she's never noticed before, through her mirror eyes. She notices the tears of the people, she notices the hurt on their expressions. She notices the aimlessness of their wanderings, And no longer is the drip-drip-dripping of each tiny raindrop so exciting anymore, no longer does she stand in awe. She looks harder, but only seems to push her people even more from forms of beauty to objects of selfish flesh and blood. She realises how free she truly was before. And all she can do is stand. Night falls, and the groups disappear, leaving the select few rushing In and out of doors, refraining to hesitate, or even establish eye contact. Waiting for someone to bring her the flowers, to kiss her, to greet her; Waiting for nobody, her tears fall from her cheek, devouring her entity, and no-one will stop to save her, to help her, to comfort her. The sun makes it's return, drying her icy tears, hardening them against her flesh. As dawn breaks, her very own wish casts her into a stone casket of solid sorrow, and she becomes another statue, another centre-piece to brighten up their self indulgent lives. *Originally written 2005 for the journal 'everybody' .

Bedazzled It was the most striking sculpture he'd ever seen, curved to natural perfection, encrusted with dazzling jewels that lit up like tiny suns and mirror eyes that reflected the sorrow in his soul. He stood and stared in the middle of the street, captivated by this amazing figure of an immaculate person. It was so flawless it seemed alien, almost too attractive to be human. It stood proud like the most gorgeous of all heaven's angels, upon its pedestal and taking centre stage. The bewildering thing about it was that it could only have been crafted by the hands of peasants. There were no more artists in his world, only common folk who could never have poured into it the love that had shaped in such a splendid way... So how could it be so radiant? It was an irrelevant mystery. What mattered was that she was beautiful. At first the boy paid short, infrequent visits, since he had other errands to attend to - commitments to friends and family, and a well-paying job - but as time progressed his passing-bys became sit-ins, as the rest of the world faded away and this incredible piece of art became everything to him. The world seemed different now that she was in it. Unlike in movies and story books, where everything becomes bright and glowing when a character falls in love, his experience of life became grey and mundane beyond her. He'd started out as a little distracted, but gradually, as his obsession grew, he became trapped in a downward spiral of self sacrifice and new scars. friends gradually merged into the fog that was his world beyond her. By the 3rd month of fantasy he'd stopped returning their calls, so they'd stopped making the effort of attempting contact. They could no longer connect with the dazed, absent boy they thought they once knew. His work faded away, he was fired after a week of no appearances, but he didn't care. He didn't even realise. One night his need grew too strong, and he stole the statue away in the night. It seemed that nobody would notice, they never even paid attention to her. Now he was able to spend hours and hours at a time with his woman. Sometimes she was warm to his touch, and he felt she loved him back. He could slide his hands across her curves and feel the connection between man and marble. Her warmth was a solace to him, it lifted him up and filled him with colour and life. But the longer he spent with her, the cooler she became. He thought to give her space, and left her, sometimes for weeks at a time, but when he returned she was colder than before. Soon it pained him to touch her, her frozen icy surface burning his skin. His hands became scabbed and scarred. But he refused to give up hope, and over the next month built a huge incubator for her. It was almost equal to her in it's exquisiteness, and he was very proud of himself when he completed her gift. He wrapped it around her, his great huge warming hug machine, but when he returned to her the next day he found, once again, she had not changed. She was not warmer. Puzzled, he decided his creation was surely faulty. He proceeded to craft an incubator that would be larger, better, and flawless. This task would take him years, building on what he'd already made until the hug machine dwarfed his object of worship. And for all his efforts he would suffer. But still it made no difference, no matter how much he tried. He spent the rest of his life trying to warm her up, eventually dying in the process from exhaustion and malnutrition. It never once occurred to him that the cold was not coming from outside, that his own creation only served as a wall between him and the truth, and that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to keep her warm, he could never change what she was. .

Ideas draft 2 You wil be hesitant and i'll want to leave You'll start the chorus and i will fall soon As you pull me up to the surface to breathe I'll drag you right down to drown with me too I'm not really sure how to deal with this Everything's slowly falling apart Should she be hated or should she be missed? What do i feel now, where do i start? She curls back in disbelief and shock horror, for what she thought was there appears to have grown Does she know, at a time i did love her? Before the blood dried up and the stitches were sewn?

Mother's Day Fond memories of playparks And theme parks and fun larks And high times and hard times That pushed away or helped to bind And everything that helped to build Or helped lift up or helped to heal The moments that make up a life Never forgotten, they keep us alive

Idea 1 Left on the edge where Obsession lead to lust and resentment with dependancy your endless misplaced trust and lies And what do you have to offer but sin, on a plate Gilded with the nectar of pearls and crimes Is it alright if i hide and go Leave it alone when all gets too much When the gun feels loaded Is it ok if i cry When you cut it again After the punch .

Dolphin Dreams (draft) Dolphin dreams of walking with people It's on his to-do list, high up there, with befriend a shark start a business and write an autobiography There's a fair bit to put into it: he once dated a French girl, and saw King Neptune in a restaurant. Even knew Ariel before she sold out to Disney He reckons he's had a good life Few regrets Still misses his French girl - she left him for another European But hey, plenty more fish in the sea

Momentum Amounts to Memories (draft) Dirty fingernails and twelve sweaty feet Torn-up clothes, three cuts that weep Quietly outspoken, the Man with the Plan The night crashes down and falls asleep She laughed so hard her make-up ran I cried when she sighed and held my hand Just so very happy, it was beautiful She leant in close and said "everybody can"

Reading Hour In pen and in pencil Expertly arranged Colourful monochrome Drips from the page Words and wisdom Prose and rhyme Climb inside someone's skin Or a portal through time

floating (draft) the image of desire painted slightly over sky borrows sorrow from the memories scatered lightly over time obsessions over silver skin and times when you were mine but all that's left remaining is a self-destructive lie the frantically demolished lie silent, cold and still god cries out for all our pain but still allows us to feel the beauty of destruction is the only thing that's real truth is dead and bloodied while our scars will never heal once upon a time was bliss but now we long to follow across the oceans of embrace to meet again tomorrow the distance is dust vapour and the heart is a black hollow an empty sac of sadness that we're aching to just swallow seduced at first by the promise of new life the rebirth of old faces and a fresh will to survive but all is lost when we slip up and no hope is left tothrive now all that's left remaining is a self-destructive lie

Crib death (draft) Wanting to be everything that she could Knowing she's not, that she misunderstood And all that she was is now left behind And all she can do is crawl back and hide Filling her warmth with left over spite Giving her all in every last fight It shouldn't be, shouldn't end up this way Thought it was clear but she's been led astray Cycles of doubt and furious rage Blood splatters drip over her rusted cage Never leave me again, she says to the next Ignoring new holes on her aging neck Sometimes she remembers what she used to dream That one day she'd see all that she could be But she'll disappear with no idea who she was With nothing nothing to gain, nothing can be lost [wrote on whichever meds came before depakote but after citilopram, explaining the lack of real passion]

Restraint Your head feels bust And your mouth tastes of rust From blood gargled and spat out last night And you want to cry Feel so messed up inside But everyone says it'll all be alright It's hard to believe When you're on your knees And the faith and the hope have dried up But you try to smile In blatant denial Of the fact that your heart feels tied up A faint old tune plays As you sleep through each day In a bed made of ash, built for one The drug is right there But you feel too scared Of twhat they'll say when they see what you've done The pills should've helped Instead you just felt Like everything had become so much clearer Waking each day To suffer in vain And ending it knowing the answer Spontaneous thoughts Outline in white chalk The person they thought you could be Inconsitency bends Your image of strength Always brings you back down to your knees If you could just feel If your wounds would just heal Then it might disappear this time 'round But dreams are all lies And everyone dies Nothing matters when you're underground

Congratulatory Poem for Helen A moose sat upon a tall mountain and laughed As if antlers and fur were the current new style For although he was far from the trees and the grass He heard you're getting married and there's reason to smile!

Savage Romance (draft) The mechanics of desire never considered That you may be required to be beaten down And force-fed a farce of spit, spite and blood Split into halves by a sick diseaseased clown You were once a saint among so many black hearts Looked so young as you waited in your tainted armour So she argued with haste as you fell apart An expectation misplaced by a misinformed father After scripts burnt out and an awkward silence Came a history of bouts in gloves dusted with dry ice Your anxiety prevailed as the days turned into months And your honesty soon failed as she lusted for those fights A cruel kid with a penchant for misery and scars But seductively painted with a face of fake charm You shed your true tears for tragic circumstance And built brand new fears for her own false harm She was once taught like a child in a cast People can be fought until they break or bend Manipulation is the word that brings life to ugly masks But if cannoot be heard and it cannot be read An invalid arrangement so she'd feel strong Mood swings and blind rage beat your ego to pulp You can't deny you betrayed her 'cause she's never wrong And all of her hurt was always your fault (6th draft, 1st poem i've ever been proud of)

the invincible spongeboy! (draft) Departue is the only resolve. Nonetheless, persist to repair Make all the effort, undergo and reform Regardless of what seems just or fair Counselling or therapy might change your state She must do nothing, since you are the cause She can scream and lash out, or spit in your face You must be calm, silent and absorb Act on her every impulsive whim But not to such an extent as you do Cause that would make you a coward and a wimp Judge which was anger and which was true Fury's a resort which serves well indeed Although not for you, it's not your place You should be worm and she should be queen You should be grace and she can be hate (built 22Mar08 from notes taken 28.05.04)

The All-Natural Orchestra! (draft) We extemd to your person a grand invitation To get down and boogie and dance to the rythm Of a handcrafted mirrorball mosaic drum So join in with us or take your well-urned turn To entice all others and lead by the hand A mish-mash of merrymen, an exciting new band Of flip-flops and castles and sparkling glitters And cherry-topped sundaes and pineapple fritters And everyone smiley or with rugged hair Dance in the streets and let others stare Wear the robes of a queen, a monkey or a clown And turn all those frowns right upside down! (unfinished: complete version due for upload)

Just a Phone Call Away (draft) You lean close and question, are you ok? The first time you've asked in over a week I'm quite fine i lie, and turn away I feel bruised and ignored, i don't want to speak I'm here if you need me, you quietly say I look through you and ask you politely to leave So i'm left alone, for another day You can no longer offer the comfort i seek [reconfiguration of previous poem written 2003]

Smiles (draft) The stare at you with Shattered window headlight eyes In the shape of pig hearts, Hands bloody with white lies That they feed you and say, "Might just hurt, but never kill" Dripping cold, thick slime From their fake scaled gills And screaming orders the others Shut up and obeyed Pushing you to your knees In the blood pools they've made Faking reasons and excuses That are born with no feet And spitting through their teeth, "Unique just means weak"