The banging of doors, thump
Clicking of locks of feet
and the nagging and the fussing
Like the chorus of a choir or
the beat of a drum enclosing your
ears escalating your senses.
Stop being so overbearing, but no;
that's not what I had to say
You see this is a letter to you that
depicts my racing thoughts. You can
read it or wrip it, hide it or kill it but
I'll know it was there.
I'm sitting in a room; it's got four
walls but no corners. It's shrinking in on itself
Are you happy to know that?
I'm trying to push it back. Day by day,
Inch by inch, it's slowly receding
Pin up the official notices, let the engine die.
Honey up the tongue, a bee waiting to sting
but you won't lose your life. Oh no you
won't lose your life.
It's a conspiracy; don't know. It's a
chill that's true. It freezing my
Strange how just by stepping
out this warm cosy room into the
garden chills me to the core.
There's a gentle breeze swimming
and I'm slowly swinging, lost in the
freedom of the fresh air.
It's a clear night that'll turn
to day. Then turn to night and carry on
Catching the first pinprick of a tiny star
I wonder at the freedom.
The colour-coded lines depicting all of my life
What truly is freedom? For if I'm not
a slave to you, I'm a slave to my senses.
It's like that moth over there, you see
how it flies? Soaring in the air like the
Brush of these leaves. The grass feels
cool under my bare feet, prickly yet softened
sweet. Cloaking the earth in its
Moths flock to the burning, bristling light
as a drowner reaches the air.
My quest for tonight question their
Don't just sit there contrite
and write it off as the evil and the
Look deeper into the sea and find the clues.