I Wait

They tell me my words were good.

They whisper “Where are you now?

You are not who you used to be

You are not right

You are not...”

I am me.

I am where I was meant to be.

This path was one I chose to walk on

And I shan't regret not following the herd

They tell me I'm strange

And wrong

And ask me to fight.

They tell me to hold my head high

To smile and accept all fury

To suck in my belly and hold the noose tight

Be right

Be right

I am not right.

I am anything but straight neat and sheer perfection

I am anything but confidence and strict beliefs

I am anything but the box they're trying to fit me in

They frown

They walk away

Anger. Fury. How dare she give up?

How dare she not try,

They whisper in menace

And I merely look up to say

It's not the right time

As the world explodes around me

In a spray of blood, sweat and agony

I wait

I wait for the tide to calm

For a breath of fresh air

I wait

I wait for my muse

As she takes my hand

And gently shows me the yellow path

That is when I wake up

That is when I let the anger loose

That is when I let my heart explode

Leaving tears and gasps in my wake

Fragments of my soul touching theirs

Stirring the still, calming the panicked

As I lie still in the dust

Finally smiling.

Dreams in a Box

Snipets in the snow
Crackling under our feet
As we tred lightly
Over the plain marshland
And I open my eyes
To the cracked paint on the ceiling
Dry, dull, flaking nothingness
And shut them again
Blocking the brick walls
And breaking through the window
Into the late winter sunlight
Face to the sky
A snowflake on my lower lip
Ice melting onto hot skin
Wind scraping past frozen cheeks
That peek exposed beyond the
Thick wooly jacket
Beneath the lifeless eyes
Suddenly breathing colour
Soaking into the crinkles
Seeping through the skull
Strange as it sounds
A whistling
Between branches
And we tred
I'm surrounded
By many a soul struck in awe
At this world
Could it be real?
If only...
I've waited twenty five  years
To open my eyes
To paint flaking off the ceiling
Dreaming into boxes
And sinking them into the vast hopeless ocean
Could it be?
Could it ever be?