Penitent lighthouse 

On the coast

I don’t like to boast

Is the most 

Penitent lighthouse to ever fog horned 
I’ve got to tell you

I’m not trying to sell you

I can ring a bell for you

About this lighthouse so adorned 
I’ve crossed many seas

I’ve broken to many a ocean breeze 

I beg you on my knees 

The lighthouse is the sight for captains forlorn 
I’m eating the last

Of the salty crusted bass

And at the tip of the mast 

My lookout shouts for spotting the glalore’n 

Part and marshal 

Purple sky darkens 

I cannot apologize for this present marking 

Sealed with my lonely life

Peeled like a bone thife 

Marshal right

Why I’m so cold, distant from plight 

Partly my thoughts, partly my fright 

Scared like I am 

Of all these thing that can and have

Traumatized by their shouts and fights 

Mind anexity going at the speed of light 

Part and marshal, white distance frightful

Will any grass grow in my barren mind?

Salted as it is by hate, cold, hard, fire and brimstone that isn’t even real

It’s my birth of the color 

Caution, doors open outside your head but inside your mind

And mine were shut such a long time ago 

You were the only one who ever opened them 

Charters to the Kingdom of Dark Pain

On top of a skeletal steed I am ridden into the dark land beyond

Clouds clip the sky with clasping suffocating dreads

Many of the the folk here do not take kindly to strangers, but they know me

My skin takes on a translucent almost bubble like glimmer, but it’s not a positive thing

It makes me stand out, be called summoned by the king of this land

A not unkind King, in a way. He treats his subjects well.

I’m approaching his thrown of bones, his knights and dames surrounding him

Like every little detail I remember, they are always slightly different, like a beach on a new day

Grey concrete 

The grounds of the places

Walking lonely like a lost little sole

Unsure of myself and others

I’m a wanderer really

Lost in this great grey game

Bricks and metals cold and icy rain

Grey trees, bear leaf

I’m not in grief 

Implying I have lost

How can you loose what your never sure you had

The past is a dream 

Concrete 

Gray and lonely, slowly slowly going mad

Then that hate

Red and stright 

First and fists

Down and smelt

The fire won’t start

I’m given a chance 

I pick up a bit of your broken pieces 

I’m armed 

Fighting for my life

Then escape

Grey concrete, never seemed so full of color 

Multifacets

work reflects / inside / surface 

Enough to bleed / candid self / barron beuty 

Forbidden sea / eye lash / watching unsettling birds

Teased wetness / makeup and a day : I see this / secreted whistles 

Vision documents : I hate that phase / nose rounded / blisters on my feet

Escape the doldrums / lips focused / rats licking my wounds

Oodles of yellow clouds / cheek blushes / rotting trails bald 

Ganda

As gauntlets clashed, shrilly 

Treehouse on the hill, freely

Watching worlds below, contentedly 

Flags, falls, staff mash

Potatoes, heavily roared in boars fat hash

Brown knight clambering mud of moars, he flaps

Sanguine feeling flowing from my eyes, he soon departs

He will feed this tree, as he rots, as will we all

Ages will pass and its bark grows grey, smash with yellow hey

Ganda, that’s it’s name

Pushing inside out

Up upon the valley

   ( Soft skin.)       Light taste lack.

Control gone to sleep

            Impulse hillside

    Making.          Instead of the night.

Wanting inside. Wanting inside. 

        Tougher was the strength.

Demands.           / Anger. /  Regrets.

Change and change and change.

     Touching.    

Holding together in the answers.

       //drowning// 

However

    ///feeling loss///  of the time///

Black noises. 

New time. Is it good? When, when?

Hiding from the same thing. 

      ///! Petal /// 

Orange juice. 

An official affliction

Inside. I’m not sure.
I can’t help.
I know it’s there.
I’m foggy and hurt, stranger in my home.
Pain enters my nerves like poison.
Blue sky’s I never see.
Just a window and a bed.
I’m never seeing another children’s head.
They. They. Saying another day.
I’m not sure there is one.