What is it that we all long for? It is a longing that we do not always consciously perceive. It bubbles deep below the surface of our bones and our skin and clots in the cytoplasm of our soul. It teases our fingers to grasp it, yet slips through them as we close our fist. It is the playwright of our dreams, which are merely rehearsals of those moments that will never have momentum. What is that pull towards the sky? What are those invisble strings that make our puppet-like perceptions dance? Unsatisfaction, it seems, is a black,  putrid rot that smothers and suffocates all that is satisfying. I envy the satisfied ones, but although they appear satisfied to me, I question whether their soles are writhing deep inside as mine does. I don't think I can quite articulate something which is not visible, something which is not palpable, yet is thick and fluid in the air that I breathe...

I resent that dusty, smoky room; the loft that held my soul above its hatch. The devil's den, where a part of my soul still remains.

When I am asleep, my younger self hammers on the walls of my mind, as she is still in the walls of that loft, begging me to release her, begging me to acknowledge her.

I would spend hours in the front of the mirror, perfecting my face, searching for a glimmer of recognition and self worth in my own eyes.

I adhered to my schedule, arriving at the expected time each day, climbing the steps to that loft hatch with refreshed hope.

As I opened it, the smoke would sting my eyes and I would be greeted by silence.

No hugs, no kisses, no warm welcome here...just a body in a bed, waiting to be woken up to get ready for the night shift.

I would try to stir him but he would grunt and roll over. I would turn on the TV. I knew the exact time each programme started and which channel.

I would sit alone, wishing he would care enough to just open his eyes.

I left once...I was so fed up of the devil's den which consumed the precious hours of my life.

He woke up late for work, realising I wasn't there. He phoned me and told me not to bother coming down the next night. He demanded to know why I had left, made me feel guilty for not waking him up.

And I apologised, I told him I would be there the next night and that I was sorry and I begged the devil to let me return to his hell.

For I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to retrieve that part of my soul,  which remained in the walls. I wouldn't be complete and I wouldn't be my full self.

That disappointed, lonely girl would be left there, screaming to get out, hammering on the walls of my mind, as she still does during the night...

The sprawling, limitless possibilities of a child's mind are akin to the infinite concepts of the universe. The future in front stretches out, eminating with uncertainty yet intrigue. The black 'in-between' is unspoilt and untouched and with the ferocity of a black hole it consumes information and new ideas. The hottest sun will warm a child's back, while the harsh cold ahead entices and is somehow unfelt. Life has not yet taken it's linear shape. Instead it possesses the very air that is inhaled, the wind on one's cheek and the excitement in one's chest. Life, like the universe, is without walls or boundaries; it has no beginning and no end. It asks questions and yet holds all of the answers. It presents obstacles, yet holds promise and hope. If only life could remain this limitless. If only our hearts could remain as open as our minds once were. If only we could go back to being at the centre of our own universe, able to venture off in any direction we choose.

Colourful psychedelic 

Demonic yet Angelic 

Passionate Psychotic

Peaceful yet Chaotic 

Calming yearning

Soothing yet burning 

I can't help but laugh when that child you know so well

Is suddenly replaced and they hope that you can't tell

And everyone wears the same clothes, doesn't it make you think

That surely that top which they've worn all week

Must absolutely stink?

And they're in the pub every lunchtime, I find it rather funny

How working in an underwear factory, can earn you so much money

The local neighbourhood gossip is poised at the edge of the street,

Ready with their snidy remarks to all that they may greet

And every now and again, there's an explosion or a crash

To clear out all the boring ones, and throw them in the trash

And although I think they're fake and false, and make my mind feel numb

I still can't help but watch them, perhaps I'm the one who's dumb 

There's fury in your eyes, as you scream that it's not fair,

You stamp your feet and clench your fists in messed up straw-blonde hair

You can't resist the urge to reach out and hit me on the leg

And despite your behaviour you continue to winge and beg

I wish you understood how hard my day was today

As I toiled and slaved at work while all you did was play

If only you appreciated the effort put into our tea

As I tried to eat while you took a tantrum when I turned over the TV

Despite how mad you make me, and how furious I felt

When you looked at me with those puppy dog eyes I soon began to melt

And even though I fantasized at the thought of just running away

Your tiny hands upon my face, make me want to stay

Of course you don't understand, I forget you're only three

One day when you grow up and you're in my shoes, only then will you see

But even when you're obnoxious, and impossible and wild

You will always be my beautiful, perfect, little child

Through the mist and pouring rain

I went for a stroll down memory lane

I covered old ground, damp and rotten

Where I kept treading over what I wished I'd forgotten 

A familiar smell as I passed the trees

Whisked me away on a summer's breeze

Then a haunting voice echoed through my ears

Dredging up my darkest fears

I ran away down a narrow street

Hiding from those I didn't want to meet

Then at the street corner I saw a light

And basked in childhood memories bright

Some doors were closed but I stepped inside

Others I closed, which were left open wide

Then I heard something distant from over yonder

Which lured me back, no more time to ponder

I realised that I must make haste

Then felt tiny arms around my waist

I was glad to be home, remind me, never again

To go wandering off down memory lane. 

The hypnotic stars held my gaze

Billions of tiny holes, cut out of a blue blanket

Which enveloped the earth, hiding it from the harsh sun

Each star held promise of nuturing life

With its own nursery of planets

Secret worlds, unseen and untouched

I am looking into the past, at stars which may no longer exist,

Yet are very real in this present moment

Boundless, sprawling space​​​​​

Infinite, with no confines​​​​

​​​​​​Except for the confines of my human brain

Which adds limits and cannot fully comprehend its vastness

The cold air bites at my skin, and plucks me from my voyage with icy fingers,

Placing me back on the doorstep.

I blink, breaking the cord leading up to the sky,

And step inside....

For every time that you felt weak

I wish that I had kissed your cheek

For every time I saw your tears

I wish that I had chased your fears

For every time you stared at me blankly

I wish that I hadn't spoken so frankly

For every time you made me sad

I should have realised that you felt bad

For every time you broke my heart

I should have imagined that we were apart

For every time you let me down

I shouldn't have enabled you to drown

Everyone says I did my best

but I cannot settle I cannot rest

In hindsight I guess it's easy to say

That maybe I could have made you stay

Without you I must go along

Always pretending to be strong

Life will always be a test

Until, after death, you can put my mind to rest... 

You phoned me up tonight 

you held out an olive branch and I grabbed it tight 

A suggestion to go to the park tomorrow 

You said you missed her, I felt your sorrow

"let's take the little one to the park"

What a shock, what a remark

As I've sat and wished for so very long

To feel like a family, together we're strong

I heard the hopefullness in your voice

I felt as though I had no choice

But to say yes and agree to plan a day, 

Where all the sorrow would go away

For I can tell that you truly fear, What I'll think of you when you're no longer here

To be honest I don't care about myself

I will place my anger at the back of the shelf, 

Just to see my daughter's smile shine bright

As you push her on the swing with all your might 

For one day only let's just pretend

That maybe, perhaps our family can mend