But oh so much more tragic than losing you...

Self, On the country roads of home.

-I apologise for the lack of current photographs. Just not happening for me at the moment, but I'll be out of the city by sunday.

Hopefully the small town air will clear my mind.-

But oh so much more tragic than losing you,

was to lose myself along the way.

I can't quite recall the minute I misplaced myself,

whether I left her on the bus,

or dropped her into a puddle when searching for my train ticket.

But at some point in the chaos of life, I disappeared.

I would blame you, you know,

I would accuse you of taking her from me.

The girl I was, the girl I used to know, used to be.

But I fear that you may only have the last few hours of her,

she was gone for a while before you were.

Sometimes I think that maybe she left me,

because she knew you were leaving me too.

But other times I know it was me, my disorganisation,

I'm always losing things.

First her then you.

Maybe it's like when I lose my keys,

and she'll turn up in a drawer, or a bag,

folded up, waiting for me to find her.

Or maybe I just have to think back...

and if I retrace my steps back far enough;

I hope I'll find her there.

Standing on the corner,

eyes wide, waiting for me.

Propped against a lamp post,

face turned into the sun.

So nice.

'It’s always darkest before the dawn. But things are going to be just dandy, I promise. Warrior Queen, you’re looking fierce.'

Pigeons & Peacocks

Happy Birthday Little Brother.

.

She's a sailboat...

she's a sailboat, gliding across the water

with the ocean in her eyes and the wind in her hair.

all is silent, except from the rushing water around her legs.

she is all that is beautiful in the world.

freedom, like a bird.

flying above the earth, away from the violence, the sadness, the pain.

free from the bounds of human existence.

peaceful,

alone.