You follow the glittering breadcrumbs of hopeful enlightenment as they beckon nicely “Ask for help, we can help you” drifting into the glimmering den of optimistic décor that lulls naturally suspicious senses into wilful repent of their pessimistic ways

The words leave your mouth with the dry heart pounding anxiety of expectation lingering on each syllable “I need help…” as into the lulled motion you make a humble request

Then the walls shrink into reddened hue, demanding faces form in the cracking surfaces of a formally optimistic décor as the door behind slams shut with a force to push you back towards the now glaring face of that siren called hope “WHY” it shrieks aloud to pierce your eardrums “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING BY WASTING OUR TIME” in response to the humbly small request eked out in now shamefully loaded hushed tones as that demonically figured form says louder “WHAT DO YOU DESERVE”

No help follows you from that place, the echoes of grimly shouted resentment carry each a dagger for the space in your back exposed to those burning words as you doggedly run with panicked pace from that place now beyond dark, only shame is earned in asking for help that day

A stony will expunges the hopeful lightness that elevates the heavy burden of living, the one salvation felt by it sapping mercilessly every positive tinge so daring as to make a note of discord against the consuming hatred of all you thought was true

Shattered truths or positive perception under foot

A figure of one does stare back in deathly colour from the cracking mirror enveloping the crimson emotional liquid shed in angst from your broken fragmented mind, another fragmentation occurring in silent pain for the knowledge that no one wants to hear your screams, or worse; will not reply with kind return as that ideal now fills that place where hope is void

The grim reaper simply informing you as casually as a simple light hearted exchange; of the verdict as damning as a death sentence “You have learned your lesson, now always know that only you are able to be faithful to the fated trust others have destroyed, when trouble calls and you deal with it all alone”

Your crime; to say “I need help” now a brand that will never fade

Sleep; Denied

Death tickling the ivory’s

The devil serving drinks

A demon hitting on an angel

Her wings pushing him away

A saint drinking straight from the bottle

As I try to get some sleep

But the party keeping me awake

The one in my head

Always waits for my head to hit the pillow

And now I’m writing gibberish

When all I want to do is close my eyes

And get some much needed rest


“Art is imbued with all the elements an artist wants us to see, each image an illusion of the truth as all we see is what we want, selfish eyes betraying the art’s true idea”
I find that pictures hold the power of escape, each image of a place carries us to where we wish to be and in more abstract or perceptive art it is reflections of the artist, and how we perceive the message we see
For me I find that people ruin an image, every time I see a person in a picture it possesses the whole thing and if your memories of that person are tainted so the image is tainted
Then again, I am a tad off-social!