I can feel her hands rest calmly on my shaking shoulders The tension taking twists and turns under my skin She softens the swirling subtleties of storms fluttering against my ribs It’s a weightless warmth working itself into my breath, out and in Who is she? She is you. She is comfort, she is compassion,…
So unfamiliar with this feeling – It’s got no name, no colour, no sound, But it’s under my skin; Creeping, scratching, gnawing around. I see the way their entitlement lifts them, To do what they want with disregard, The paralysis of the trigger they’ve hit Without any intent, I’m completely disarmed; I can’t move to…
The mirror shard glistens Calling to my inner darkness As a whole, the cause of so many questions As a part, the subduing of so much pain The silver shimmers Calling to my inner darkness As a whole, it consumes and overwhelms As a part, it causes distrust and shame The darkness echoes Calling to…
Seeing people who don’t hear you Fading out as soon as other start to hit their stride Your heart beat deafening you With the agony of passing time Talking with a voice that won’t carry Dissolving into the air as soon as they’re formed Lungs as flighty as a hummingbird When you feel constricted and…
When the message comes from the shadow From the antithesis, from your fear, How do you respond? How do you fight the tears? When they’ve taken your voice and your hope By ignoring the plea and your tears How do you respond? And hide your fear? When they ignored your statement of “no” By taking…
A silence so heavy and hollow It can wrap it’s fingers around your heart Reaching through the inner shouts And tormented voices A silence so thick and empty It can wrap itself around your mind Reaching through to highlight the doubts And question all your choices The difference between lonely and alone Is that silence…
Sometimes it’s the small things The beat The moment The suspension of attention When a screen is more interesting than you When the laugh is somehow disconnected The look is skips a beat and no longer lingers When the fondness is still there but distracted And those small things Combined with a name A glance…
Scribbles of an insomniac 