What I see

A little smirk a sharp edge of a cynic
A wanderer an observer a bona fide critic
A sigh- exhausted chuckles
Cleaning old blood from blistered knuckles…
What do you fight for what do you believe
When the truth is a bubble made of personal satisfactory
So hush my child don’t speak so loudly
They’re watching they’re judging
Hiding behind what keeps them safe
Blindly seeking truth within misplaced faith…

Photoed not synthesised

He stood unsure in her garden
A piece of litter among beauty
The scent of flowers made him hate himself more, built up sorrow–mortified to the core…Such an innocent thing, fragile–when bones decay to rust. Their hearts like petals in the grip of a powerful gust. Apologies aren’t fertilisers my friends, they don’t bring forth beauty, regrettably only shame. Though unsure he knew what was to blame. To him she was pristine– to her he was a dream. Now a bitter stream more or less so was the inkling. Yes, apologies aren’t fertilisers they don’t bring forth beauty they’re only for regret…And beauty fell apart once his cancer began to spread…

Finally alone

There’s a little spot between your thighs that brings great pleasure to arise. From your thighs to your toes all the way up to your nose. Tingling sensations of flirtatious engagements, leaves one to ponder further arrangements. Little drops of lustful incantation, brings forth a fire of blissful elation. Intimation turns to action and action turns to a teasing smirk–if this moment should continue then oops there goes the skirt.

No Cheese

There’s a little mousey who runs passed your door…More cheese he needs more cheese he wants, running from corner to corner as the cat starts it’s hunt. Faint gnawing sounds emitted by little dwarf teeth, gouging away at your edibles like you wouldn’t believe. Mom has had enough mom wants it dead.”Send in the pink death”. That’s what she said. Big men with canisters filled to the top, stormed into the house as my heart-strings collapsed into a knot. “Mom you can’t! Mom!”. I pleaded. My heart fell to the floor as I felt defeated. The men sprayed the house from corner to corner, roof to floor. Is there really any place left where they can spray any more… I watched as they left like the plague they came–so much arsenal was brought for this little mousey they wanted to maim… No more gnawing was heard at night no more shadows of big ears to give me a fright… What mom didn’t know what the men could not see, was they all decided to take a friend from me. Yes it ate my chocolate but in truth I would’ve shared. Why mom did you go this far when I couldn’t have cared. So no little mousey running passed my door no more cheese–because it needs no more…