Vanishing Hours

You’re hiding from the daylight,
living within the shadows,
adoring the stars and the moon,
living life how you choose.

Wired into new technology,
typing your life away,
delaying reproduction,
sipping on coffee slavery.

“When we were younger
life was so much simpler”,
you hear the words again
through disappointed lips.

“Be more like X”, “Do more
of Y”, “why are you so odd?”,
“You live a strange lifestyle”,
“How did you come to this?”

In the early vanishing hours,
you play the songs you love,
write your truth in words, and
you crush their expectations.

Little Tragedies

The Blue Window by James Spell (Akyra)

You move through life
weathering the pain and suffering
of many little tragedies.

Misunderstood at work,
you suffer for the sake of a wage,
never to see a promotion.

Held in broad daylight,
your bag ripped from your shoulder
while people are watching;
Grandma’s heirloom was lost forever.

Walking in the afternoon,
the beautiful park full of fluffy animals,
you never had a chance;
bitten by a naughty dog off the leash.

Unfairness at your home,
never fully appreciated and adored,
you sit up into the night,
escaping into other worlds, fantasy.

When the big tragedies
begin, you wonder about the little
tragedies you suffered.
Looking back, you realise the little
tragedies prepared you for this.

Bitter Night

holysockpuppetbatman on deviant art – Seer, Scapulamancy

Dewdrops to some, sweat beads to others; this is her reality.

Dreams and visions of depravity, horror, and the current, past, and future human perspectives flood her mind.

Dripping and soggy in the atrocities of her fellow human beings, the seer sees what others do not want to see.

Dreaming through the bitter night, to be restored and tired in the morning; a lofty price paid to see what others cannot see

Daylight doesn’t stop the lingering images of what has or may come, yet who is a seer to change what cannot be undone?

Decurro journey through a difficult test, watching the world fall apart and remaining grateful, kind, and courageous.

January Dawn

Last night we whispered, ‘Happy New Year’.
No dancing and singing; no festive food, wine, and sparklers glittering.

We sipped and read quietly at home, contemplating another year gone and looking forward to the new one to come.

Almost another year older. I feel a bit jaded, perhaps wiser, and I feel like I’ve aged, and I’m so much older.

I sit thinking about all the people I have not seen. No hugs and kisses unless they are through a screen. Friends down the road I have not seen, and a longing to do so much with so little time, sometimes I’m searching for the words to say what I mean.

The January Dawn passed us by as we slept in late. Whatever this year brings, I hope we come together, become closer, and learn to embrace love and not hate.

Life is not lived by the rich and the few. Life is lived by smallfolk: by me, you.

At times like this, I feel the pull of that longing place. The place with a door leading me to somewhere magical: a hidden world with a forest and the phenomenal. Is it my inner place?

I wanted to open that door wider for many years, yet I get closer, and I falter and think of my peers and imaginary sneers. Is my inner place calling for the two halves to meet? So separate they have been that no one knows where one-half ends and the other half meet.

For now, I sit hidden from the blistering sun. I peeked at the outside world, at the browning lawn that we must mow, which will not be much fun.

I sit here and wonder what we should do. How many more New Years’ Eves will I get to share with you?

Sick Day

Grey clouds,
fog in the morning,
feeling the weight bearing down.

A hidden disease cripples your body
and leaves you broken yet whole.

An obtuse workplace,
work-life balance is only a theory.

Afraid to tell anyone,
you battle on with your demons.

A glimpse of clarity,
sleeping the sick workday away.

Grey clouds,
no fog as the day passes,
feeling the relaxing rain falling.