Heart flutters wings against my resistance and 

My ally is gravity… the time space fabric is safety net, 

With threadbare cords about to tear 

The ground is not the ground, it is the fragile weave,

The climbing net that my small feet in trainers

Slip and push through, the rush of no-time

I’m falling, but only to the length of my leg

The net catches me, stretching my skin

The promise of an emptiness beneath 

The ground is not the ground, it is stretched skin

Threadbare and fragile. One day I will fall right through.

it smells like sautéed garlic behind closed doors, the enticing allure of food cooked with love 

it tastes like a quarter teaspoon of magic, spilt on my lips, my desire to like it before it spills to the floor

it sounds like the opening song of an incredible band wafting on the wind towards my ears in the festival queue, my impatience urged on by every kick of the drum

it looks like the flash of splendour and comfort behind a closing door, my weary legs wishing I was on the other side engulfed in it’s embrace

it feels like being alive and alert, reaching out towards something beyond my grasp  

The smell of sautéed garlic behind closed doors, 

that  enticing allure of food cooked with love 

a quarter teaspoon of magic spilt on my lips, 

my desire to lick it before it spills to the floor, like a child with an ice cream cone, vanilla rain running down their hand

I can hear the opening song of the band wafting on the wind towards my ears 

I’m stood in the festival queue, 

impatience urging me on with every kick of the drum

A flash of splendour and comfort behind a closing door, 

my weary legs wishing I was there engulfed in it’s embrace

Instead I’m left with the lingering feeling of being alive and alert, 

reaching out towards something beyond my grasp  

“If I recover… it’ll be because I’ve cured myself by working, which fortifies the will and consequently allows these mental weaknesses less hold”