Monday, March 21, 2016

tapping fingers.....

if anyone can make a ladder to success out of rejection letters...it's me

my midsection bleeds....

or am I mistaken.....

most days I feel as if something has been taken away...

perhaps it's nothing but a trap...

something to capture my thoughts and turn them into something else....

I've been plugged in for so long, the waiting is jolting......

my medicine is too sugary.....my voice too quiet....

if only my mind could be heard and harvested.....

and when I look into the mirror and glimpse at what is feasting on me it too looks familiar....

a mere page or two per day.....will it ever amount to a novel realization.....

my fingertips hold the most confidence....so i'll sit back and let them worry....let them wait...

it's odd and funny how they never hesitate......

Friday, February 19, 2016

a whovian poem.....full of tree sap if you ask me!


waiting for a blue box.....not a red or green will do...

waiting for the one...you know Who.....

waiting for the day or the night to appear..

perhaps a time or place relative in space...

spinning round and round.....seeking a doctor when i'm on the ground....

waiting........time......when will it end.....when.....silly question...it only ends when it is over.......
so when it begins it will end.....but the travelling throughout will make him my friend.....

a timeless confession.......


time ticks because it's limitless.......

born and bred to believe we are limited......we must unmask the lie

the gruesome face smiles back at us, because time has been discovered and a new meaning to this place.....

a quiet voice can still be heard.....a broken clock remembers when it stopped and waits for time to come around again........

each time opportunity passes me by....i notice its flaws.....it's not limitless not even close.....it's a thrill that won't last because time conquers all....

i built a lasso out of words and latched on to opportunity......just for the thrill of it......i'll stick my teeth and pen into it, creating a wound that won't heal.......and when it dies....it will fall but i will fly.....

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

it seems i have an acute case of vashta nerada - i need the doctor!


i've wasted so much time pretending i don't exist.....

the truth has always been the weight i feel, the heaviness i combat each moment with breathing....

the illusion, more real than the truth, until you sigh, and hold your breath

a glimpse comes like a flash of light, suddenly the weight is lifted.....

now i have to remind myself each day...that none of us ever existed....

there are parasites that feed on humanity....

look them in the face and reveal them.....watch them starve as we fade into nothingness...

lost memories without a skull to call home...circling the planet...... we are but ghosts of our past....

haunting and feeding.......

Friday, December 25, 2015

evie pratt.....


it's my time……but the universe keeps me waiting here and now until it comes back around…..

she's alive - the robot version of my mind…..

she lives in a braver, newer world……….

you will know her one day…..or forget her depending on the curve of time…..

on this Christmas the gift of knowing her would be yours but not mine....infinite letters arranged through space and time……..stars burning all the pages to land on…….but this i will give you……just her name, and then her story when she comes alive……..off to bed, sugar plums and the wonder of who is Evie Pratt running about the corners in your head…….pillow dreams and realities………someday you'll all be seeking me.....

Thursday, October 29, 2015

wrote this in january and never posted it...so here you can have it now....

for 23 days a very busy spider has been spinning her web....
not to be confused with the very busy spider of course....
sticky and tangled words can often collide.......
but who claims ownership......none have claim.....all have claim....or so said legolas without his wig....
off i go now.....to find who i truly am......
the darkness is luminescent

the shadow of who i used to be....


i used to be a writer, but they took away my hands....

i used to sing stories, so they cut out my tongue.........

i used to read books and drift off into other places, but they stitched my eyes closed

the pain carried me until i stumbled upon my hands...

my tongue grew back like a venomous snake and i lashed out with it....

i tore the stitching from my eyes and used it as a rope to free myself....

and now i will make them pay...for all they have done, only they aren't real and when i strike i look like a fool swatting the air.....