The adult trauma centre. The donkey caravan. Unwanted's here. I am your nurse. I am your open ears. I channel your I underestimated vision. I live your under-recognised fleet. I moan for you and mourn my own  'pure identity'. I chop my golden hair and try to talk like you. I sing as if I couldn't talk atall. Unembellished I listen knowing that when I speak people don't hear. My eyes feel with water as they try to convince me that my conscience is clear. I love you, and I want to be you. My dance is bland in comparison to your loopy love for feet. I'll meet you deer. Even if the forest is open to people 'like me'... (Right of passage people!!) But not everyone else knows how to be the ground. On this day, on everyday, my ghost, my fantom other... Try not to fear. I am on my way to you.

Can you hear me
Can you hear me