I Doubt...... it's true!

In every person there is a patch of doubt which is visible to those agents who have no other way of earning a living but through the manipulation of this point.

They can illuminate it, make attempts to dissipate it , heat it, freeze it according to their needs,. When you're hesitant about them as agents they show you how they can help you to overcome it. When you're with them they fool you that it doesn't exist anymore, but you can feel it and you stay agented in case the fear returns again so they can frighten it away. If you say you're leaving , they present it to you once again in all its fearful glory and make you realise that you can't cope with it on your own. The one thing they never do is to tell you exactly what it is. That way you could sort it out yourself and you wouldn't need them. These people have the greatest doubt of all, and that is that they can't serve in a world where there are no doubts, they keep you uninformed to hold you ransom to your doubt. The only escape is to locate this doubt yourself and exorcise it. For until you do you will never be free

leaving

I have a fear of leaving..
Open doors ...
Closed doors,
Doors which don't allow re-entry
I pack my things
I have a fear of leaving something vital behind,
Or taking something too important to be lost into the abyss of the future.
I have a fear of turning keys,
My own and those of others.
Opening boxes, Closing boxes,
Hearts
Safes which hold out and hold in.
I have a fear of finding some thing too precious not to persue
Or that the something precious
Has already been taken.

Alone

Alone, Alone.
Who left me alone?
The lights were all burning
but I was alone
The windows were rattling
The wind was at force,
Who left me alone here?
Why Mother of course.
She's gone out dancing.
The house is quite dead,
She couldn't have listened
To what I had said.
I hate all the echoes,
Floors creak and doors groan.
I hate the whole feeling of being alone

Paranoia prison

Some bastards got my man trapped inside their warped and paranoid mind. I only see him once in a while and I begin to wonder whether its worth the wait. A woman can’t wait for ever.
When I see him he’s smiling trying to spare me the agony of seeing the bars We both ignore them - pretend they don’t exit - so pleased to see each other , to taste the salt on each others lips. We don’t care sometimes, we hold onto the bars tightly so we can press our faces closer together and kiss - oh that kiss, that brief blissful kiss - that loving tender trusting kiss. But then the bastard always comes with the jangling keys and wraps the bars and all we are left with is the taste of each others saliva on our lips. We hear him coming, pacing down the corridor and from experience we know that the meeting is over, we flinch and remove ourselves fractionally, changing the colour of our eyes, drop the eyelids slightly and take one last cold, look.
And he’s in the room staring sadistically, this Is the best bit for him, he times it immaculately so he can savour every minute of private anguish. He Stands, slopes in a position of waiting, but we know the time is up. My man has already gone, worn out by the withdrawals of the past. He stands up, the warmth of his body has gone, and he’s waning, waiting, for the paranoia to take him back to his voluntary cell, convicting himself, convincing himself its what he wants.
“lets go” He sneers to the jailor”
“another two minutes” the jailor informs
“take the woman away” My man stands
“don’t go Yet”
“don’t go yet”! they cruelly mimic.
“I want to go now, come on man take me away from the woman” The Jailor smiles, passes his hands over his balls and gives them a quick squeeze
“one more minute”
“….ck off woman..” My man says
“just go”
I bow my head, I am helpless in this prison, I have no rights and he is a voluntary prisoner.

CUCKOO (circa 1982)

Like a Cookoo's egg, 

Some bird laid you in my nest. 

Being a mere sparrow, 

I didn't see the bird for the egg. 

And soon you're bracing up your shoulders, 

Puffin out your chest and sending all my nest eggs whistling into the abyss below. 

Now, how my chickens would have looked I'll never know.