Immersed in bubble bath scents
And sensations, I breathe,
I breathe, I breathe deeply,
And the water softens my skin
And the warmth softens my mind.
In with fresh oxygen and out with
A build up of grime.
a soft silky mesh with glittery golden stars,
pale pink, it draped to my touch,
it cut crisply with the scissors and suddenly
I was a girl again,
twirling in my princess skirt –
my own soft pale pink mesh with glittery golden stars
I can never sleep when the moon is full
Sometimes I wonder if part of me is wolf.
Maybe just a bud of wolf’s-heart that could
Flower if I let it, or maybe it’s a key in a lock
That I just need to turn to let the wolf in.
you think bottling emotions will save you
but it’s only collecting poison for later
that will rot and spoil in your neglect –
it will eventually force down your throat
or inject into your neck, your hands will fly to the wound
to try and muffle the agony, but it’s too late.
to ignore is not to dispose, even hauling the bottle
overboard into a heaving ocean is only
a compromise or a suspension,
delaying the consequence to a later date
When exactly does the world end?
When it shatters into fragments of glassy particles
sharp at the edges, asteroids now feeling like pebbles,
with the explosion of shrapnel piercing space? It still exists,
just in a different shape, so does the world only end
when it has become the lunch spiralling down the digestive tract
of a black hole?