Kym Smitt

The creator and sustainer of my existance, I have a god, my god is me.

Delighting in the affections and acceptance of Poohs offering, Tigger throws a piece of his own back, leading to the eventual blossoming of a special kind of friendship.

Solidified the world is, but a liquid of desire and greed thins the morals and purpose of the precious little good left in it.

You remind me of him
You step out of the page
Modelesque in every way
Charm and confidance oozing
Photoshoped ripples and bulges flaunt intent

Legs sprouting from every possible angle… Its steadfast body armour like a knights…. Six of its highly intelligent eyes scan me for the kill…...I hear its whispers

He wills the demons away
A will negated by the proximity of his next fix
They are gone then……for a while
It wasn’t enough. There are more of us now

Daggers are flung from an elderly lady sitting alone next to the cardboard clone of Batman. They simply bounce off the perfect personal bubble the couple have created.

To hide behind my left face for it is the ‘Norm’. And so I eat my steak and veg, for I am a hypocrite.

My Mouth…….
Was it ever there? I do not know
A new one I would like for you to sew
I know you wont, not now not ever. For as I am I’m sure to keep
Of your secrets and sins never will I speak.

My grandpa… To me he’s as old as time and his vast musings fascinate me. Yet he doesn’t know my name.