I’m an artist,
A creative outlet...

Sat beneath, our tree, in your field,
I can’t breathe, you see, how I feel...

I'm not insane... I'm creative...
I'd love, to see your heart burn in my hands...

I'm ok
Things could be much worse...

I feel so, so constrained,
So restricted...

I sit upon the gate to our old school playground,
It's raining, but I know the tree to my left will...

If I give up, is that murder?
I cannot sleep, so...

Go on then, if it makes you happy,
Kick me until that tiny brain of mine falls out...

I sit here staring,
Into my own eyes...

Dad?
in twenty years or so...

You know a side of me,
That people do not...

Close your eyes- what do you see*
Open them ever slowly...