"A squirrel, two sparrows.
A crippled dog.
Hit. Grasp, save, grasp, hit, miss.
Miss. Miss again.
And I see your eyes.
Fur, feathers. Blood. And that noise.
Tree, fence, sunshine. Miss. Save.
Hit. Hit again. And that noise.
Sparrow.
I'd pick you up from the grass.
But there's nowhere to take you...
I am one of them.
Sister of mine, don't worry.
Hit, miss, save.
Skin, bruises, blood.
And I see your eyes too, Sister.
I say don't worry, but what am I going to do?
I'd pick you up, but where would I take you?
I am one of them."
We sit on the bed as he sings me my favourite song, again and again.
Writing with his red pen, I don't want to forget anything.
He's singing again. Spot light in the form of a bed side lamp.
We've got ice-cream down stairs and a DVD waiting to play.
My phone will ring and I'll have to go home, but for now he's playing.
Strumming away, he'd prefer to be kissing.
Keep grinning; it's the nightly store run.
I'll go away soon. Take over the world, maybe the moon.
Talk about kissing, what we've been missing.
Parts of me will be left sitting here, listing to him, singing along.
My very own rock star.
I've got front row tickets to eve
From the perspective of my new character Teddy...
I can't quite remember my sister, the sister I couldn't carry away with me because i had no where to take her. no safety. no sweet home to embrace us. the boy and the bird with the broken wing.
i sit beneath a small sapling that smells of bitter forests as well as sour mud. overwhelming in my nostrils but i don't mind. as long as i can become invisible to the people around me. please let me be unknown to the surrounding faces. i don't have a god. just a sense that somebody could be listening to me. maybe my sister but i shake my head. don't make me remember. not now. not yet i murmur.
i open
cos i want to do it. i need to do it. murder a dozen sleeping beauties . bathe in their blood. i can't breathe. your pushing me deep. and deeper till im gone. im gone.
stop it. what are you doing. i see it you know. everything. i don't want to see it. please blind me with a cloth,stop me from seeing the scene of torment cos im not in the mood for any nightmares tonight. i just want some gooey chocolate pudding and a milkshake. lying, breathing as i watch crap tv. if its away from you im not suffocated by the lies and insistent cryings of the mental when i see them. skin, torn and ripped like paper ribbons floating like junk in the town i once lived in. ripples of blood. stop. if not for me than for yourself. stop.
I am happy you think so and I find it interesting that you are reminded of a topic like the science of the mind. I come from a philosophy/psychology background so maybe my poetry has been influenced by that? I honestly don't know though.