Now Deeply rooted in my grey matter, emotions stem from a flower that never leaves. I lay there, mired in thought, wondering how different my plot would be, if her seeds were never sown… If she had never grown on me…

Her petals shine like gold medals, on my podium of pandemonium, cropping up ever more awesome with each blossom…implanted in my dreams, almost magically…

Tragically, She radically soils my clarity…
I work tirelessly to harvest reality, supersede her from train of thought, weed her from my memories…an endless lobotomy, aimed at this enigmatic botany… My efforts are fruitless…

But the truth is, she is not to blame for this matter, It was I who plowed my grey matter, till it was conducive, exclusively for… my flower

Fire fighter 

She felt it and It burnt. It burnt like an open flame as She fled her own cremation… They had warned her not to play with fire, so she couldn’t help but feel like, the very smoke that choked her, and made her eyes water, was a thing of her own creation… she ran, and ran, and ran, until she was no longer affixed to her asphyxiation. finally she stopped at the top of a long trail of ashy footprints, and pondered how she was going to fix her situation…
She hadn’t escaped unscathed, her heart was covered in burns of the third degree. Lost, she retraced her steps and began to sift through the charred debris… Inadvertently rekindling the experience. The flames were gone, but not extinguished, she missed his spark, his warmth, his light… They had made fear and joy too hard for her to distinguish, fuelling a fascination in her that was too fierce to relinquish…she would use all her will, and all her might, to cool her passion, in fright it might reignite… She was not about to let that happen, never again… She had felt it. And it burnt.


The mission 

I embark on a mission comprising the daily repetition of seemingly pointless acts, that might attract the formation of beautiful facts, and maybe allow me to extract, information from within. A natural selection, I force, in my chosen direction. My evolution, from a problem to a solution.
As I feel this change begin, I spare no expense to escape the pretence that is ignorance. I Live to enhance the remembrance, of wealth acquired through experience, so I may one day advance from the trance that was yesterday. Leaving as little to chance as I possibly can.
As I become more Lust in this lostful romance, I give myself no choice but to dance, adopting the systematic steps pre prescribed. In the hope that one day, my own choreography is described, by those who saw my vision. The ones who followed me on my mission.


An inert volcano, on the brink of eruption. A righteous man’s morals, plugged into a system of intrinsic corruption. A lustful virgin, experiencing an unwanted  seduction.
The mind in a mine field. Striving to Turn a blind eye, for fear of the explosions exposure might yield.

The snow flake under the Suns radiation. The high IQ, in a bad education. The comfortless courter, perceiving their own infatuation. A heart on a fish hook, straining to overcome times own temptation.



Dreams down the drain. Wasted away

Play down the pain. Bleed everyday

Move down the lane. Into the grey

Cry out for help. Hope and then pray.

Break down the chains. Cast them away

Dreams down the drain. it’s a new day

Play down the pain. smile for a change

Move down the lane. Connect with the strange

Cry out for help. I’ll be on my way

We can break down the chains


Oblivious in their attempts to guide us, they fail to realize that, the advice provided on our vices, only demises the life inside us, dims the brightness of light inside us. Until there is only ice where warmth once resided, until they loose their vises and tend to grow violent…. and vice versa.

We all break free from Inertia, and act out. rapidly illuminating all the negativity we both blacked out.

Presented only with what they perceive to be shallow adolescents, desperate to circumvent actuality. They have no prescience of what our impertinence actually represents.

The repercussions of our actions is judgement and punishment. they attempt to suppress our individuality. Their perspective is now stained with precedence of position and vanity,

 we longer see where their intentions lie actually…we see only lies

and they see… only the subversive 


Queen mother 

She rises before the sun, wiser and older. Each passing day adds weight onto her already burdened shoulders. Even as her knights grow colder, she stands in the front line with her soldiers, waging a never ending war against the harsh realities of life.

She represses all the pain she posses.  In attempts to adorn the ones under her dominion, yet they scorn her with their misplaced opinions, and although they occasionally trigger her wrath, they do not deter her from the path, she was always destined to be on.

An anomaly in her colony. Both the junta and the labour force of her economy. With an open heart and an iron fist, through whatever anarchy afflicts her monarchy, she persists.

Unconditionally kind, not only to her kind, graceful in humility, adept at the art of empathy, and undeterred in her loyalty. These are the elements of her eminence and royalty.

Although she is not perfect by any means, she is and always will be a queen.