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

and decreasing.


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

that way.


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.