A Little Bit. (Alice Poem)

I can see my sorry soul slowly
Drip down upon my immaculate page.
Tears create chaos and ruination
Amongst these carefully inked confessions.
Become stains and creases
On memories desperately writ.
Survivors of a thousand discarded trees
That lie crumpled at my displeasure.
Once I had known well,
My very mind and mood,
Now irrationality dictates my day,
And my writing follows only fickle folly.

I heard you came into the city
To look for me here.
What a pity,
You forgot the veneer.
Forgot that it's always Halloween.
Only masks where faces should be,
On every person you've ever seen,
Even me.

I heard you didn't find me,
At least not the me you knew.
I wore a different mask, you see,
One you chose not to see through.

So you left because you couldn't bear
Me wearing a different mask.
You would have known me under there,
Had you even bothered to ask.

At night the misty rain looks white,
Like powery ash in the cold street light.
I imagine it made from things we once had,
Burned now to dust by a world gone mad.
As I walk on through, it brushes my skin,
Fills up my lungs as I breathe it all in,
Particles of people and things they would do,
And I wonder if I inhaled anyone that I knew.

With fond respect to Sir Roger Moore, Mr Bond.

--

Though Sir Roger Moore has gone,
And we are Roger-less,
We shall roger on,
We shall not roger less.
Let us all progress!
So roger more,
For Roger Moore.

(Warning, spoilers re: 11th Doctor)

-----/

I am not a TARDIS, true.
I'm so much smaller
On the inside,
Though I am always blue.

I'm like The Crack
In Amelia Ponds wall,
A fracture in the Universe
That should not exist at all.

Two pieces of time and space
That shouldn't ever touch,
And when the crack is closed ...
I won't be missed that much.

If only salty water
Could wash my woes away,
I'd cry myself to sanity
Each night,
and every day.

Ah, what bitter tears are these?
That carve like acid, tracks of sorrow
'pon my face for all to see.

Witness in the way I walk, the weight of my self-worth.

Hear me speak with vitriol, bitterness that takes its toll,

on you, on me.

Look into my empty eyes
But don't wonder what's inside,
Because it's leaking outside now
Through a crack I cannot hide.
And self pity poetry
So pretty and so uninspired,
Is only a buffer,
Don't you see its a trick?
My words without this filter
Would surely make you sick.

Counting my blessings,
Can't make it to one.
My hands shake and
My face is numb.
Something hollow and rusty
Is lodged in my heart.
My happiness so dusty, I
Can't pry joy and sorrow apart.
Wasted another day
On heartbreak. Heartache
Makes it dark inside my head,
Should go out and play,
Play outside, not cry instead,
Should get out, get out of bed.