Desctrlaltdel

Pass one another everyday, And remain reticent. Longing to speak, Tell of ambivalence. The rage which makes me weep, When I think your heart is lent. The smile I cannot hide, When you appear as I have dreamt. I wish we could pass this reticence, Maddening compliance. Then end this evermore, Because it is deafeningly silent.

Who do you think you are? Introspection seems bizarre! If you sat for a minute, I think you could win it; This battle against your thoughts. Think about the the world. This blue planet you claim to live on? Because it's not about you! *Gasp* I'm telling the truth. That tingling in your brain, Isn't a plain old migraine. It is thought trying to break free, Shackled by consumerism and aesthetics. Trying to conform to an ever changing standard, Eternal metamorphosis of body, mind, spirit.

People leave behind clues, Which remain when they are no longer alive. Objects fused with memory and emotion, No posthumous object could contrive. Fill the gaps in a tapestry, Of days easy to forget. Longing for the past, Mingled with regret. The pillow on which they slept, And dreamt of days to follow. Their gentle scent in every fibre, Savour it - it cannot be kept. But there are things which objects do not inspire - A hug or kiss, Yes...these are the things you shall surely miss.

                                you                           when     have                         scary        made                       only             other                       is                                                          f                       d                  r                       e                  i                       a                  e                       t                  n                       h                  d                                          s.

For the world to be your oyster, You must first assent to be its pearl.

Walk away. You know you aren't worth it. This moment was reserved for a girl like...not you. Didn't it occur to you? After all the bullying, The slammed doors and grimaces. That this world was made for you revolve around. To hang on the edge, The fringe. No-one will pull you up, You'll inevitably drag them down. Just keep your head bowed, And don't let the world know what you have. What is only revealed when you hear the embodiment of your soul, In the expression that is music. The music that extracts repressed emotions. Sends ripples through your fabric, Your make up. Every moment of sadness compounded, Through one word

Close our eyes and drift away, Falling into night's domain. The place where logic no longer applies, Where your most intimate thoughts can come alive. No-one to hear you, And no-one to watch. Fabricated people, You can't even touch. Risking a nightmare, For a meeting or a talk. Bring together memories; temporary emotions wrought. When we are awake, We are not dreaming. When we are not dreaming, There is no escape.

Legs that do not work. An expressionless face. Children laugh openly, At his sudden outbursts. He tries to hold people, To love. Instead they are hurt, By the raw emotion, Unbound by society's rules. I stare at the face, Which people prefer to avoid (they don't want to be rude!) I wonder about his mind, Which ages in leap years. This does not inhibit imagination, For age is just a shackle. Tighter each year, Until untamed thoughts cannot exist. What else has he to smile about? We can walk and he cannot. We can talk and he should not! Perhaps in his dreams, He is one of us. He can run, give meaning and learn, But his re