i havent been on here in ages, maybe thats because i seem to be visiting the local doctors too often this is to anticipated though.

i have lost hearing in one of my ears, but oddly this is helping me see things alot clearer, im not too sure whats wrong with it it was fine before, but previously things were alot worse then just loss of hearing.. things now seem to be picking up im finding my way in places i feel safe.

We all learn to make mistakes running from then without no directions, gradually feeling weaker with the mistakes going full speed ahead, but as i say things are looking up, im on a positive streak with my education, im working and recieving a steady income for the things i want, and what i think i need, there is just a few things i would like to make everything alot better and thats 'you' and my best friend back in my life.

i am slightly attracted to you, yet i know i shouldnt be.
as i know i will feel a seperation coming on if i told you.

arriving in the rush hour, i poped through to fast food to order a black coffee i sat waiting for the hands of the clock to tick to 4.45 as i watch the blue eyes attract me, i call a name in my head and no response, then the name is blocking my voice box, then there it is.. just like a jack in the box the name jumps out startling people even though you were expecting it. These eyes turned to me and then an arm is pushed over to my other shoulder we chat for minutes before a ringtone is sent from his phone into our ear drums bearing in mind mine still have gromits in them from 1997 and the other is perspirated.. He comments on the way i look and how my unique style singles me out from everyone, il take a comment as a negative comment if someone notices something that means they were thinking about you and then i ask myself thousands of question attempting to wonder what i was being thought.

i enter work table 4 isit? 'yes i.d card' 'thanks'.

steve ' hello lovely you alright? '

sid ' yes thankyou are you? a tad tired if im honest though'

steve 'arr isnt everyone only 4 hours to go.'

briefing 30 minutes, dialer tone calls start.. its a constant replay of the colour which lights up my mind, that bright blue ocean colour then a call comes in and its a faded memory just like it was a few months ago.

i'm now sitting here thinking do i text him or not? you'll always be a major part of my life due to you being my biggest secret yet smallest regret i wonder if you know that? i hope you do cause only the greatest fortune could concieve me to tell you as now i fear how you'd react.

The most preferred melody has to be suttle acoustic, thing is i enjoy no commercial things, so i enjoy people who aren't well known for there singing ability such as natty.. or Luke Pickett yes they are singers but they are not recognised when speaking of there names. Robert Patterson is a moaning musician he seems to be able to play the family of acoustic instruments as well as acting, some people just have it all others take things to seriously and take advantage of little talent, there wasting all there life by forgetting what they came on this universe for, and relying on there fame to succeed through, that's not how it should be you use talent as a proof of your ability to succeed if you try, when i was younger i took singer lessons.. i always doubted my voice comparing it to stronger harmonies that never seemed possible to me. Even though my music teacher told me i was capable of achieving a distinction i expected the worst, when sitting on the blue coach out side the theatre waiting to be greeted by my examiner i sat in fear, fear of the criticism i was going to receive.. negative reaction didn't help and when that first test of my voice come on and the lyrics doe - a - dear flowed from my mouth i startled shacking with fear my tone trembling, the only thought in my head was to walk out of that exam room and run but i didn't i carried on for the next 30 minutes. Oddly i didn't receive any criticism, nor negative reactions, but neither did i receive a positive attitude. Maybe that was just how teachers were as they wanted are to fear for the worst but try our hardest? from that day on i knew older people with more knowledge who were willing to help you never took there ability for granted.

I'm not going to say that it wasn't fustrating.. as it was, i mean anyone would find it an incovinience if you knew you had discomforts in common, you felt the same about unfortuante events, and you sometimes felt alone, But speaking to certain people was my way of comfort, it seemed a shame not being able to communicate with you as much as i would have liked to as there was a certain problem which was bought to my attention a fair few times.. Now things just seem easier, I can have endless conversations about our similarities and our craving for sub way, we can discuss how much i'm going to bite one's ear if they dont purchase me a subway once in a while, and how i am going to be very disapointed if my conversations with you seem to come to a dead end your pretty rad if im honest and i enjoy your hair.

everything seems to be on the way to a perfect production being complete with its kind, without blemishes or defect. Without lack of knowledge i seem to be following a broad lane, im following my eyes across defined perfection..

Today i dressed as a scruffy art student i sweeped my hair back, i had a polo top on with my jumper which has ruled my wardrobe and i bunged my dirty faded white fred perrys on, i didnt feel the need to impress today as i only wanted to get on with the education. I woke up at 6.30 from a dream which had so much beauty in it, to a dull day i could feel the cold when i left my duvet to go and freshen up.. i asked my father to make a chicken and mustard sandwich he failed at this and made a ham and mustard sandwich yet i dont eat red meat!!!! i hoped on the bus with my bright orange headphones hanging from my ears i handed my bus pass to the driver' who was the gentlemen who made me smile last night due to his politeness' and sat at the back ( this was my usually place of self ability to see others from a different distance, i could work out the way there personality was by the way they were acting as i couldnt hear anything with sweet melodys confusing my mind ). All the way to the rumbold arms i sat and thought i viewed the fields out of my window i drove past his house not even realising.. i didn't care i wanted today to be hassle free. i got to the rumbold arms and hoped of the bus the gentlemen was still showing regards in his manners, speech and behaviour. Studio 2 is where the activities part my knowledge i had 4 hours of theory to lok forward to yay..

i wrote a story about a younge boy who's mother had cancer, he fell in love with a girl who made a promise to him when his mother died , that was she would make him her main responsibility. this made me realise that things weren't so bad it may only be fiction but my non -fiction life didn't seem to bad..

on the bus home i still sat there listening to melodys, i looked at the views once again whilst sitting at the back, the art student looked paid off it made me feel extrmeley positive. i have arranged a trip to cambridge next weekend for a change, im having my locks re done, maybe a change in colour? im out this weekend to celebrate someone's birthday and i have a whole summer which will i will make my summer to look forward to, as i say a dress down say is always a brightner note.

gilboa mountains.

pleasant moods today.

it could of been a number of things, perhaps the responses i got from last nights conversations, or the way everyone was so pleasent today as though they realised that same as i did.

its not a case of living up to expectations its just an oppotunity. Your life is filled with them, different routes paths, alley ways and sometimes the unexpected narrow dead end..

i was walking down what seemed to be my everyday narrow route, with the 2 way road following the stretch, it was dark and the headlights were glowing my eyes.. i was carrying a mountain of books whilst holding my ipod ontop, in the other hand i was attempting to text a friend, i was making piece.. then a beefy lorry which looked awfully familiar to the ones you would see on the stretches of america, it had various different headlights which is in many senses would be referred to as the many oppotunity i have to turn, i looked around me surrounded by fields i was, with a little cottage house placed right on the corner, the flowers were still waiting for their season to bloom, and the sound of grass hoppers had faded but its my home, and i have realised everyone is the same its just the way you plan to live, has an impact on where you live and what your life will be like.

its been a stressfull day.

the papers keep building up whilst the ink starts to run out, the glue looses it stick and the paint begins to dry. This is a realisation of where i want to be, and this is one of the tasks i have to overcome to get that bit closer to ride.

Its a mountain of hopes which will soon decay if enticed away from the right behaviour a lost petal to a deadly flower.I can only rely on the positive not agnostic behaviour fed from my own heart.

i know where i want to be its just a case of riding that narrow route...

can you guess?

i think of being in them states of confusion like the definate amount of cars flowing through the streets throwing there hand to play there monotone horns. The underground atlantis lining the walls with shops, and smells filling my mind such as bagels, milk and coffee, but most deffiently able to smell the cologne of people hurrying by. time sqaure, famous marks of history, the side walks which followed the yellow taxis to a far stretch, the people trying to make something of there life dressed opposite to the people in black suits playing wooden made strings with there hats placed directly infront but just beside the passers by. The often accuring big buildings with the odd accasion of smaller sized.

can you guess where i want to go?

on a brighter note.

I am perpetually scared, anxious, jelous and sorry but strangely enough i am alright with that.
Everything happens for a reason. I mean death is bought upon us but then within seconds so is birth, its a mixture of happiness and sadness 'the complete opposite yet they come so close together'. Attempting to explain the unexplainable leaves you with less knowledge then you first had, you have the tendancy to doubt anything that defines happiness and love that is your choice but its sometimes better to take risks, to take pain like a soldior does in war, other then experiencing domestic violence. There is always a way out its not a dead end, just a maze in which you have to find the center, the core of anyones happiness, that is when you least expect to find it . i am feeling extremely positive today and for once its unexplainable but i know when i feel down to always read a post secret.

into the wild.

it becomes and often occurence for me, when im carrying a tune in my head when its blocked by images patching together from previous moments on the time line. i was always told that ' the core of a man's spirit comes from new experiences' so whats the aspect to a womans core. i was also told 'you dont need human relationships to be happy god placed it all around us'? this means we can find happiness wherever right? the thing that enlightened me most was the irony of how at the end of life you see yourself running into open arms like the open world of millions, filled with memorys of the past, the smiles of those who are grateful for the courage that has been following them ' when you forgive you love, and when you love god shines his light upon us' would you be seeing the unhappyness of dying or would you be reminising on the spirit that lies ahead? some people feel like road kill, soldiors, prisoners, feeling like they dont deserve love, they walk away quietly into empty spaces attempting to close gaps in there past. i read ' how important inlife it is not neccisarily to be strong but to feel strong.

today i wasnt feeling very well i felt something wasup last night turns out i was coming down with a cold. So today i took advantage of my nan's couch and her classic pearl barley and sat down to write a story, i planned an idea which then lead on to read ' A tall dark handsome gentlemen who isn't the wealthiest but will always give his last penny to someone less fortunate.. living on the outskirts of america he see's the world go by like passing traffic, meeting and greeting people of all different genres artists, who would often sit by the street corners painting the rush hour onto white pieces of recycled paper from which someone had given from old envelopes which had travelled miles then to be recieved by people who had loved ones from whom were reminising of an old romance whilst fighting in thewar. music men who would also stand on the american dusty streets watching passers by in the hope to gain a few dollars to then buy his tea for his family of 4. The lady who had portions of wood which let out the smell of roasted chesnuts and would always give off that warm feel to homeless street eaters, making them feel more of a community as you see everyone who lived on this street were all in the same boat they were a family. They all had the same morals and religious beliefs which made the community a enjoyable place to be whether homeless or not. Often people were left there to feed for themselves if they were not accepted by other americans. a few weeks had gone and a few more men had been added to community but nothing could be compared to the lady who was then walking through the streets looking through each glass window scanning every high maintenanced item through her mirror imaged mind. Everyone couldnt help but gaze at her hazel hair, topped with a fluffy black slate hat which lent softly yet comfortbaly of the tip of her head. Her long red dress which sweeped the streets of unwealth, her fluffy jacket which had the feel of a savaged bear layed on her broad shoulders emphasising her beautiful neck line, and the finishing touch like the only star in the sky was her red lipstick. This was the detail to her face which lead everyone to believe she was of royalty. The tall dark handsome man saw beyond this and new she had more class he notcied something distinctive about her but couldnt quite explain it to himself so he left his mind to do overtime to try and figure it out.. others believed she was those common americans, one of those who took money for grantes, some also believed her to be a berlesk dancer and with her bright red lipstick on who would of thought otherwise. Even though they had the same views on everything this time seemed to be different. Whilst debating antonio ' the tall dark handsome man took a sharp look back to find she of such wealth had gone...
the days of autmn passed leading to another month, there was still no sign of the red eva.
As images kept being played through his mind of her class he still couldnt make out what was so personally to herself which took the attention away from her beauty. He described this as his beautiful mystery.
2 more seasons flew by the pavements started to dry out ready for the winter snows and rain to lay, and the puddles to form in the cracked slabs. As each individual watched the rain rebounce off the slabs and form another puddle added to the many already there a worn down boot walked by heads turned to look up and there stood eva. Unlike before she was dressed like them, a long grey jacket filled her body, and a worn down hat layed covering her mattered hazel hair, someone must have percieved her noticable disformity and sent her to these worn down streets which would never become a souvernier of a visitor. They were not disgrateful for what they had achieved and would always pray for the hope of better wealth to many others who were much more downturned then them. Antonio stood up to greet the what looked like lost lady, she spoke in silence when he introduced himself. He went on to ask questions ' how had you ended up here?' was it you who was recognisable to me? ' yet still she spoke silence.. only left to imagine what she was speaking in her mind, unaware that he was living eva's life as she does each and every day. eva took the seat of antonios and rested her head against an old brick wall, nevah who was part of the family covered the cold girl with a blanket in which a passer by who was pushing a silver cross push pram failed to notice it had fallen off and re pushing over it left the blanket stained and damp. It was okay for eva though, and she soon drifted off. Everyone believed eva would be dreaming of which seemed the un attainable for them but they were far from correct the only thing played in eva's silent mind was images of the unexplainable these would lock her up with truth being the only key.
After the cold winter evening the community woke up to a brown boy who was standing at the edge of the street, he had a bell in his hand which was a constant ring in peoples ears everyone was disturbed by the sound yet eva still lay alseep. The brown boy was only trying to sell papers for his father. what read on these papers soon become familiar and the word LOST soon became a feeling of anger and guilt. What was kept hidden from others was never to be told only by those who believed to trust and embrace one anothers respect. Joice set up her wood stool, lucas set up his paints and they soon went back to normality...

confusion is all i seem to be attempting to figuring out at the minute?

everything seemed so lit upon yesterday now today i have a dull grey cloud hovering above me asif i have done something terribly wrong and someone is trying to punish me? telling me not to be so exclusive, i wish i knew far more detail about why i feel like this. maybe a iconoclastic individual has lead me to feel like this? or a new regime i have undergone? oh please give me some significant answers.

my sunbeam of light in which breaks me from the darkness and fills my soul with hope,

guiding me to a softer yet sharper place in which i know longer feel alone.

bringing me to a heat which i can no longer bare. My skin tingling like the first cold at the end of an era.

my ears being filled with the gentle sound of wispers, and the sound of cold air being passed through my ears with and instantly warmer feel.

mouthing every single sy-la-ble as the words become of so more familiar, my expression grows to more then a wimper, i know we are poetry in motion.

then the light seems to dimmer,blurred images only visible through my swollen eyes is tormenting me i seem to slur my words with a sense of nonsense.

and as i seem to simmer on this stage of broken dreams and cold tv dinners someone merges from glow, and angel a saint a keeper of faith..

then a small flickered light appears from the crack in the ceiling you curse still slurring your words but slower, and not as often as when you felt the agenda soon become the impossible..

as my thoughts cave in the crack is the only thing that stops be from seeing you fall by the way side, all i wanted was you to be my kind of sinner, but you were only a saint. I cursed to you and your everlong breaking heart and moving out of your comfort zones to a place you wished you could call home.

we are the end..

then that wish soon became an undecided future for the saint who used her kind sinner as a barrier to her everlasting feel like a man of solitary disposition. The little hope she stiched underneath her cold layers of flustered white over used skin had soon become the expected prospective to her unwealthy imaginable life.

solitary

i feel so alone, i feel as though the walls are coming in on me but yet beyond those walls its expanding. i speak silence in fear of what people may say? but am i the only one who is experiencing the worst poverty. A state of social isalation is the defintion to express the pain of being alone. When we truely realise we are alone all we want is someone to have an understanding of how much distrust you have towards yourself. This is where i pictured you playing your mind to create your illistrations whilst realliterating your playlist redefining your art and polishing your vinyls in a way you feel is best, and yet you were still be able to feel so alone with the rush hour of a grand central station flowing through your mind. i can see now you'll be my strength to further less solitariness not to ecscape from others but there selves.

Black doves & White birds

i want to fly over the english valleys with the back wing of a dove.
is it possible to do it with out fear or worry of what is around the corner? the sky will be empty just the alone free spirit of the widely spread feathers gliding lightly through the skys at a speed of 10 mph, never needing to increase thy speed as it has a steady input before hand in which is given ahead of she. Its a care free exsistance soaring with a playful ease in which the reality could never behold. A non-exsisting image in which will never been seen through pale shrunken eyes just a prefound feel for guilt glides through the broken skys at an increased speed. As the possible strength to slow it down is travelling at a steady speed far behind.