cuffing season...

Cuffing Season is upon us
like that drunk homeless guy on a bus
like we need a whole 6 months dedicated to lust I mean a few relationships might last but the majority go bust
I sound bitter as all **** but I don't give a **** I guess me and love haven't really gotten along like a pit bull and a dove
or a magician without a glove
Me and love have a bipolar fixation no matter what my or its situation
no rest for the wicked or the weary it seems,
I mean I don't mind being single but **** it if I didn't Think cupid was being pretty mean it seems he has a thing for teaching you the hard way it's like he purposely Keeps his arrows away in Aphrodite's purse and she takes it personally

I've been sleeping in odd places
next to a ***** blanket
on the floor of this cold apartment.
I get little sleep because my insomnia
keeps saying ridiculous ****
and its starting to scare me.

I find myself frozen when he asks me
Do you think you know yourself
He tells me I care too much about the answers
I tell him he isn't very good company.
He tells me I try too hard for others
that I'm only going to get my heart broken.
I tell him it's still worth it
He crawls closer to the couch
and impersonates my crying.

I've been sleeping in odd places
next to a confused womanizer
on the bed that can't stop squeaking.
They never look at me directly
they can't afford to find attachment
under these eyes of mine
when it's only the cuffing season

I've been sleeping in odd places
next to my anxiety
on the floor of my mind.  
I'm clutching onto these odd moments
like little snippets of my life
I'm trying to piece myself together
with all the bad that I have done

I'm jealous of your pen.
Jealous of the way your hands will never caress my skin like you hold it.
Jealous of the way you won't ever twirl me on a wooden dance floor like you spin it.

I'm jealous of your tie.
Jealous of the way it wraps around your neck, a place my arms will never be.
Jealous of how nothing separates it from your skin except a shirt, but I have red tape cuffing my hands behind my back when I want nothing more than to let them roam beneath the collar of your blue-striped button down.

I'm jealous of your ears.
Jealous of the words they get to hear when mine aren't around to listen.
Jealous of the way they get to hear i love you spill over and over again from your pillowy lips, the same lips that form into a smirk after you tell a joke and make me feel like the most important person in the world.

I'm jealous of the way you make me feel.
Jealous, because, I'll never make you feel that way, too.

bad boy, i got a weakness
i like the taste of blood licked from my
own hands from being reckless
tearing hearts out their intended
cavities and im afraid my mouth
is cold from being exposed

i guess i keep the charade
of getting mad at you
for not buying me cigarettes
or not telling me to quit them depending
if im interested in you

i go to the gym to heal
all of my mistakes instead of church
and its cuffing season
want you to tie me to your mast

and leave me there all season
then afterwards we'll never text each
other again because you're a bad boy
and you are no good for me

It's almost "cuffing season"

So please hold out your wrist

We can keep each other warm  

Before the cold even hits



Wrap your arms around me  

And squeeze me tight  

Let me melt into you  

Make me feel alright  



When the snow disappears  

I fear you will too  

But in the meanwhile  

I'mma call you my boo



It's almost "cuffing season"

So please hold out your wrist

We can keep each other warm  

Before the cold even hits

Amongst the stretches
Of chiseled sidewalk
Stuck with gum and bullet holes,

Waves of black water
Spilled over grass
Dangling in the pull
Of the moon's smirk.

Strung from strands
Of yarn not yet dyed
Hung a bench of sticks
And thorns and buds
With the potential to be
Pretty,

And with shoes cuffing
The ankles of skin
Pale as the shallow murk
Of the wavering sky,
Swinging with the steady
Beat of the croaks
And raspy whispers from
A hat covered head,

A splash of water,
Cool with the gentle peace
Of the final page
Of a book unwritten,
But open to any reader
Who dare choke on the waves themselves.

(Genesis chapter 1:6 and God said: “Let there be a firmament in the midst of the water, and let the waters be divided by the water.” I never understood this statement, well not until I wrote this poem).
The ocean.
It’s just a wetter version of the sky
a graveyard' of poetry
that broke into my heart and open my eyes,
and I saw the brightest darkness mirror reading
handwritten dreams cuffing the stars consoling the rain
whom tears laugh

and in that laughter, I hear the words
God hates you
these insulting tears that only once god could hear
now speaks to me with warring tongues
and I had nothing deep to say
just a crushed sentence
a pile of regret
a sky that jumped on my train thought
and we went from an angelic blue to a halo of black.

God, I do apologize if you feel like I have displeased you.
See I have been searching for a weightless god
because the others are too heavy
and too weak like watered down gospel,
Weak like the dark side of poetry
Weak like a religious inside joke no one gets
Forgive me for you know everything I don't

so tell me am I a self-portrait of you and will you promise to
clean ***** lost souls like mine
and will u forgive me for having an enchanted mind
You see I often mistook you for a poem that has never been written
Mistook you for masculine words that became undone
I mistook you  for a selfless father that has more than one son
Mistook you for a sky filled with multiple sunsets.

I know nothing of you,
you unseen god
tell me am I of the other god
am I his fleshly creation standing outside my normal heartbeat
and on the footnotes of his story
standing breathing whirlwinds on death ears of soundless music
into the lungs of his bible
The lungs of his heaven that often resembles the blood stains in his hell

blood that flows throughout my veins and into an anthem of sorrow
Sung with broken tongues
sorrow buried in all kind if ancient languages
And I sit in this hell crying with roses
that's been wounded by his thoughts and
his words shoved into each other and I hate this

so much that I stripped down to pain and
I am exposed naked with caution
and I can see that my heart is a jealous god also
an egoistic ghost filled with love I never felt
a love that has no title

a love I am not entitled to feel
and why should I be
When that god knows I am a sleepwalking addict high off of pain
why should I be when that God knows I am as useless as a headless butterfly
When I should be more like the ocean
Yeah just a wetter version of the sky
The human body is made up of 75% water
(So in Genesis chapter 1:6 when God said “Let the water be divided by the water.” Where did that water go? It is in me).

When cops aren't held accountable
We're bound to fall
To unanswered calls
And free for alls
In project halls
With narrow walls

Fear gets the best of judgement
A cop shoots a suspect
He gives an explanation
Which doesn't pass examination
Only exacerbates inflammation
Stemming from the police station
When they go on patrol
To show who's in control
And act as rough terrorists
As the cuffs tear our wrists

The blood ceases to be red
As it gushes from our head
It becomes black or white
The difference day and night
The impulse is to fight
But is that right?
Will we lose sight
And become wrong
And sing their song?

Their favorite method for oppression
Is unbridled aggression
With discriminate discretion
Yet we're supposed to be nonviolent?
Even when the media has gone silent?
Even when a loved one has been maimed?
Or framed?
They depend on our inaction
To continue painful interactions
As we look for distractions
We build a mental immunity
Which gives the cops impunity
They think they're getting through to me
I just don't want them to shoot so I'll be free
I'll tell them what they want to hear
When they know violence is my fear
They use the mystery of suffering
And their long history of cuffing me
To manipulate me and get what they want
Then on the way to jail they tease and taunt
They've numbed themselves to my plight
And blinded themselves from my light
They hope they'll never see me again
After sending me to the state pen

The police get a thrill
Out of taking away our agency
The police get to ****
Despite how much we beg and plead
The cops keep making us needlessly bleed
Our supposed rights they needlessly read
A government system they needlessly feed

I feel rage and impotence
In this cage of hypocrites
The cops
Run a shop
Where hammers always look for nails
Even if they're minor fails
When employment depends on success
And ambitions rely on arrests
We better wear a vest
Because they'll terrorize the public
Then open their arms
For therein lies the musket
That does us harm

The police brutalize
While we rue their lies
But stay in disguise
Because they have the power to destroy us
People won't employ us
People won't enjoy us
Once we're trapped in a lonely cell
The police then toy with us
Making us feel like we're alone in hell

The police engender a vicious fear
Especially when they smell like beer
To cover up their tears
From what they do to their peers
They terrorize
We're paralyzed
We must teach them to be decent
When evidence of their hate is recent
The law must be followed
But the enforcers are hollow
And they bend the law
To twist our screws
We're stuck in their claws
Destined to lose

Take me back to when top hats were like business suits
When the white moths had become black with filth
When the Thames was brown like the rotted teeth of beggars
And not just because of the mud
When the Irish and the Slavic were exotic
When London was Birmingham
When Birmingham was Liverpool
When Liverpool was a country village
When there were millions
And yet they were still so innocently oblivious
Take me to the city clothed in black
For there was always a funeral somewhere
London
The noisy factories
And crowded slums
The fear that the cold brings
The pain that disease brings
The real London
The honest London
The dark, deadly London of my nightmares
Every narrow, dimly-lit alleyway dripping with **** and blood
Full of criminals and drunks
Ominous dark brown bricks
The suffocating stink that follows you wherever you go
Cursing, begging
Lifting, cuffing, gaffing, looting, nicking, pinching, swiping, thieving, pilfering, pillaging
Hundreds of words for stealing
Where the poor are painfully poor
Where every woman that smiles at you is a *******
Corpses lying in the streets
Next to gas lamps
The only beacons of light
People packed into bedrooms like chickens
Sleeping on the string

Highly disturbing
But it's best not to interfere
For someone else will deal with it
Industry and decency will save us all

There is no trace of that now
Except the noble stone buildings
Commissioned by the corrupt

This is my fear and obsession

He said he'd rob a bank for me.

What?

No!

Then he gets caught. Like a fish on a hook, and where does that leave me?
Talking to him through a pitch black telephone, on the other side of a glass window, on some old wooden chair.
Seeing him dressed in orange uniform and a guard behind his back, like loving him was some sort of crime in itself, and then before you know it, times up.
A mere few minutes, for him to see how much I loved him, and it'd break my heart, like how a glass lands harshly on tile floors, it'd break me every time.
To think he'd have to get locked up behind metal poles, every night, when my arms would have done enough cuffing.

I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

oi! Bronson! **** ya matey! i'm a sardine oiled up! that paddy is gonna hang like a dog on a serpentine of a leash's worth of walkies... that paddy's gonna hang and ask for the relay gun at the Olympics going off... paddy was never the bricklayer... paddy always gangrene flex, got lucky in Arizona and New York, forked St. Petersburg and only forked a steak nibble... Bronson settled into retirement just fine, came out a ******* act-tor! pepper the bobby with parking meter fines for his bureaucratic funfair study... sooner or later Jimmy the literate will turn up, and replace Bob the illiterate swine cuffing someone ******* in an alley.*

oh, i'd probably become
an english teacher
and sing ****-yeah
when the drone army of
Amazon couriers fed us
the next 21 hour trip in
defence against the Koran...
so i guess ha ha is in order.

and with every mythical Mrs.,
you tell 'em about the castration
in the synagogue, and never about the
baritone in the morgue.

Sold my soul for a warm body to lay next to
some call that codependence
I call it no direction
after a season of depression
falling head straight in to the dirt
and into the arms of whoever grabs you first
cuffing season is definitely a thrill
where we're all out for the ****
we want it all to stay the same
we can't accept everything's changed
on the other side of the darkness
why did I think anyone would be there waiting
I'm not the only one who's changing

Another dab of red on her lip
A final spray of fragrance
Baubles cuffing her dainty wrists
And a spring in her step

She steps out and steps into the car
Their eyes meet, a sparkle across one of her 32
He nods with a giggle, "Finally, the day has arrived..."
Zestful fingers turn the key, the engine revs up

And like always, she completes his sentence
With a bright one across her face
"Yes, the day we set each other free."
And together they burst

While little Macy and Phillip
Make promises, young in love
From afar, below the cliff,
They see light shine so bright, like fire burst

And perhaps, they were only firecrackers
Thinks Phillip, his innocent mind
Unable to tell a blast from a burst
But Macy knows, for she caused the brakes to fail

Hurry up and kiss me -
Our love’s fleeting like snow
On the street we met

I'm not taken
So don't shake me
Or break me
Cause I'm not ready for this twist
If you love me I will be miss
Try to use me and abuse me
I cry over and over at night
My pain will not go away
It will be here to stay
What more can I say
My time goes fast day by day
I may want this chance
So let's dance
But don't be a prance
Or a dunce
Cause it will break my heart
From the very start so let's not break apart.

don't bother to hold me hair.
and ****** why do I feel the need to lock you out,
I don't want to have to share.
I don't.

I have carried you on my back,
trying to help you,

and now I am empty and I can't focus on your pain
like you want me to,
I'm empty and I feel the harsh brush of bitterness climbing up my throat,
to form the acid on my tongue,
and I bite it back,
but my insides rage war,

And I love you.
we've been through,
death,
divorce,
****,
***,
Sarah,
but I'm...
barely breathing,
and I'm not sure you're seeing me anymore,
this breath is waning and I can't focus on you,
any more
or maybe it's so hard to past the news feeds of your life,
I resent that I have to ask you, to care about me,
I thought you know me,
but maybe you know the "me",
I used to be.

and can I just say whats on my heart,
I wish I didn't have to teach you how to love me,
you get me on so many many levels,
but jump back to the basics,
I dont want to be the supply and demand of my own needs,

You say you've never felt more closer but I'm not sure if you know I breathe.
I want more from you then this, how many times have a put your needs before mine,

And I can't do it this time,
and find love,
in life's leeches,
thinking I'd be the cure,

and have sat and rage war beside you,
but my insides hide,

you're hurting me cuffing my wrist chaffing this heart
and I'd burn this if it didn't help the bleeding of  my heart

i'm sorry all I want is for you to be
happy but all i see is the water now that surrounds me,
I jumped in to save you,
but I have,
and I didn't save a vest for me.

were just drowning together no one better off then before,
but i no longer want to commiserate together, though I'm in love with the storm.

With nary a thought to pose or process
With scary, a way of thinking
I am someone, or the type who, tends to do certain things in a certain way
But what is it worth if it does not read well?
Or to call someone who sounds like yourself and the ensuing contrast of awkwardness
**** n' ****, luck or gettin' lucky in any way colloquial terms for coitus or *** in general, I've none which is not to say I've not in the past or won't in the future but right now there is no significant two-way companionship which I really do want for a variety of reasons to be.
To simply, with cliche, be.
No such comfort will exist in my life for longer than a comparably short while, it would seem.  Nope, no happiness for me, only discomfort, depression, and stress.
No such great is a thing as a two-person love and experience.
And I am alone, truly.
And I am alone, more truly than my peers or fellow poets or parents or family or any other being sharing a universal genus or scientific similarity.
You know nothing of insanity so stop spouting and spewing this beautiful word and defaming and relegating it to a common "lol" or emoticon or any other thing that is obviously below it.
Standard crusted creation of melting erasure dissolving dissipation and dead-eyed cuffing stuffs stuffing still with tough metal roughs of through-bred thoroughly fed fattened and read something a little like this - DISGUSTING MUSK-SCENTED RUSTING HORMONE RIDDEN DERISION OF A TEENAGE HUMAN ****.
Operated in an operation inside of an operation on a mechani-borg.

As cold as another age, wracked with solitude,
A slow start to another beginning,
Unreliable cloud coats the sky
And the sea repetitiously roars in,
Cuffing cliffs,
Pounding rocks
With calamitous roars
Playing endless riffs across the sand.

We walked together down the beach
Troubled by the surf
Chewing on cigarette stubs, sullied by the wind
New ghosts in the half-light
Bearing years like backpacks.

Grown old in the gathering twilight
We chattered together, our footsteps picking
Wounds.  Barbed words
Like greetings, cheerfulness like an accusation.
******* a shared and interesting memory,
We cuddled together in the scouring wind
Enjoying each other’s casual warmth.

It was a time for reflection,
When love is a scab on evolving friendship,
Heartlessness the price of redemption.
The contrived book of your beauty,
The gilded ceramic of expertly rendered features
The undulating film of your gestures, coded and decoded
Through time.

Beauty is finite, crumbling to fleshless reminiscence
Fixed to canvas and celluloid
With tireless labour. In the end, signifying another thing-
Of little interest.
An artist’s casual thought, a director’s cut.
They barely remember your name,
Your laughter and wildness gone, missed by the
Senile artist’s transitory brush,
Clotted with hundred-year-old varnish.

A small house by the sea
Surrounded by flowerbeds sparkling with summer colour
Self-absorbed children, with whom we exchanged affection
And parted from, holidaying in Bangkok
With lovers of all sorts.
As the sea rolled towards us
And evening gave way to night.

making do with what we had, we rolled dank ****

into receipts from the bar.
For once, I wasn't worried about getting

caught smoking in a bus shelter.
I fixated on the cheap shots of tequila
and this paper joint
and heckling overdressed blondes
on a Sunday night in

November.
**** "cuffing" -- latching onto a person for warmth and
intimacy as it rolls into December.
For now, I'll stand against this graffiti wall while those

closest to me take ****** iPhone pictures of me
covering my face.

For now, I'll walk up Bathurst
and discuss whether or not beards are a dealbreaker.

I'm picture-locking every look,
every turn
and sound

One day I hope one of my closest
calls and says:
"Remember that night when time stretched out?
Our three sets of footprints cemented a time when we were
in our bodies
and not in our heads."

We left our heads on Queen Street that Sunday.

Tonight I want you to model.
More power to you if you think im refering to silk or lace.
Not at all in bad taste but tonight it'll just be a waste of time,
Watching you slip into something ****  knowing that its coming right back off.
Don't think me silly as its essential that you know.
Anticipating watching you put your mouth on it.
Pretending that your not selfishly waiting your turn,
Thats cool, you can admit it
Because in that same token i love watching you swarm around the sheets, reaching as if your soul is about to leave your body.
The wetness that erupts feeling your legs clench around my head.
A Dead give away that your about to run.
Twisting and turning knowing **** well that I refuse to let you go.
Face deep eyeing you fron bellow, watching you lose your breath looking down at me whispering stop stop
Just before your body locks up again and you lose control of your leg.
Its never that easy.
Plotting just what time,
Remembering all the **** you've talked.
Flipping you over, cuffing your hips.
Sliding into ultimate bliss.
Tonight,
I want you to be a model.
But none of that fancy lingerie.
No perfume rubbed against the sides of your neck, between your *******. Or even beneath your bellybutton.
Tonight,
I want you to wear me

i dreamed of being amongst
tall, ornate
cherry blossom trees,
and they were all wise

they reached high into
indigo-colored skies
capitulum crowning space, tasting
cool air

when the wind came
they spoke to me

and i listened
-i still listen-
but miss miss miss the vision

...

there is this one
c blossom
2,000 feet tall, prolly
that was not only wise but

silly and fun too,
and she drew me
drew me
into her,
her roots
curled over my feet
her petals snowed
on to my fevered lips

giving me 10,000 sensations
-senses-
I never knew
existed before

but, ya know,
"things happen"
and whatever
la la la la cliche **** me now
plz

vision blinks shut
rub eyes now
cuff of Do
cuffing your you w I
comes to be
whom whom are you are you?

climb down
into world
nine now
five soon

Hey,
I offer very few words often preferring that my riddles get ushered out in scribbles, it’s the chosen if not more cowardice stance but I plead sincerity. It’s my forum, sanctuary and how I speak to the world. It is how I speak to myself often where I am brave enough to part with that which I would rather, normally, and sometimes with reason, keep close chested. Bare with me if you bid, I’m still breaking into rhythm. I free write, so may encounter a misplaced line. It happens when I let my mind roam free, I don’t do properly constructed very well. I digress.
Yours smile. That laugh. Your thighs. Your nose. The way you get upset at absolutely everything. I dig that about you and was foolish enough to take it for granted. Not define really, so used to rolling with the punches I half left it neglected. Shame, a consequence I seek to amend. Alter. Be it a tad in vein. I’d rather that I have tried. But oh your smile, that laugh. I long for the Sundays that never were. What they could have been only the fates will know, you were the habit I quickly adopted and like any good habit, I didn’t see it through. The injustice of being a ***** is the role play of hindsight, retrospection, you can do very little by such except replay it, the ***** of torture I gather. A travesty if you ask me. You thought I was bemoaning the luxury of you being a convenience; I missed you for the sake of missing you. I can’t fault that train of thought, it crossed my mind and consider how it was I was able to portray neglect, valid in every sense. I’m thinking now. It pretty well could have been. It probably is but there is also the lingering frustration of what could have been. The possibility, it had barely sparked and then, load shedding. Brogues of frustration. I do enjoy you though, thoroughly that had to count for something. I can only hope
Those words still burn, how I was so comfortable with my life and my ways. I am, and reluctantly there was likely an aspect from myself adverse to the change, I gather though it has more to do with the systematic flaws I carry around at not being able to fulfil that of a consummate boyfriend. Perhaps I am selfish and unfamiliar with how one steers clear of trouble. How not to get scolded is but a foreign concept I gather, being aloof second nature. The very things I would imagine an initial trigger being the most irritable, it would then have to come from me wouldn’t it. So stuck in my ways and always expecting the conforming into my ways leaving little room for anything other than that. I gather it has to do with mine tentativeness at the matters that come attached with relation meaning that soon enough my flawed character is left bare et al for the scathing universe to see and picking it all up again, not so fun. Perhaps it’s my little defending.
To try for an explanation I am a very selfless ******* and I hate that. It leaves room for train tracks to tattoo my flesh and I think I’m sick of the second fiddler role. Friends to family and those I generally consider I may care for. It’s a part of the Gosiame matrix and I often realise or stupidly so that you get very little back. You the great guy, that is about all really. I have opened up to the prospect of relation and the thing is when I do, I really leave the door more than ajar, I don’t hold grudges but it burns. I think. I don’t wish it on any I am not fond of, and there is only so much of numb we can all endure, even I have my limit of spilt drink and the love that was. I may have opened the door to the wrong parties but then again I have never claimed to be the best judge of such. In any essence I am a toddler to these things so a little coaching and patience does really go a long way. I am a terrible human being, more so when I hate that you get jealous at what I have considered second nature before you came along and then realise that I too hold the ability at this thing called jealously, some character probably has me acting a fool in the fist cuffling cuffing fights I have imagined us engaged in. That is as far as it goes nor will I admit at being human. I like my super coo unattached unbothered aloof stance.
You came at me like a gust of wind and I got taken in by the fun of it all. I will admit to that. I wrongly imagined what will be will be as is the prerequisite if you are me and well that the roles will identify themselves. I think I am being repetitive. I am habitual. I claim to hate routine and my small comforts, in truth I probably enjoy complaining against them far more than I do being drawn away from them. In any case, you would need to be very clear if there is any fool hardedly romantic stuffings to be done because my lazy self will opt to steer clear of any pants and make out with the remote control while yelling at the tele. That day I imagined you would make your way over. In truth I thought it one of your unreasonable rants all over again, thought you’d calm down, make your way and well that never happened did it. The lack of boyfriend in me had at no junction sought to reason that she may need to get met halfway, I apologise. In my mind I had not canned our plans, just altered. I think I know better. Look I need stick it notes for the thoughts I had five seconds ago.
This is getting ridiculously long winded and moving in a roundabout way. I like that I could possibly refer to you and your forehead as my girlfriend. I like you in all you’re B Cup glory, that they could just be perfect for you. I won’t make any false promises not to anger or infuriate, as the way history runs down for us, but I will do so only in a manner that makes us unique, fun, bearable in a sense. I had a hand written letter and then you scolded and thus I knuckled down to type this, consume ridiculous amounts of this ridiculous coffee and ask forgiveness and show you that I am learning. Did I mention that I miss your ******* and the way you tend to cup them? I made fried rice and it was so lovely, can’t get over such. I’d like to give it or us a solid go, if not only for your laugh, oh and I keep getting these things that require a plus one all the time so that could be handy but more so because I want you in unimaginable ways, manners that I can’t even describe to myself. And I’d hate to walk away from what could just be the best thing to happen to me, no that smells like a line, the sexiest. That rather!
I miss thee
PS. Will you go out with me? For like real this time? In real life?

This century is of the cash and capital,
Its captains are collectors of credits,
Their collaborators are culprits,

This century is circumventing my calmness,
Its clauses are cuffing me,
Their conditions are confining me,

This century is a cruel calamity,
Its covenants are costing me my composure,
Their claws are creeping in on me.

My confidence is collapsing,
My clarity is crippled,
My consciousness is ceasing.

This century is carving out my carnage.

Please forsake me for I have sinned,
Singe'd the rustic metal with sterile flame,
Blood burnt off the edge,while iron waft the air
In my right hand holds danger, in my left nothing
Nothing but the sadness in what I see,
Metal to slice, forever marking me...
Blood trails run down my wicked wrist
Slowly moving..... The everlasting drip
Deathening feels fatally turn me pale
Pestering me to return my scale,.....
Set me apart from the rest,...

They judge me not for me
But for what I've become
Beseech thee as I make my cup
Cuffing my leg to a chain and ball,
As I huff either, the everlasting high,
Hurting me, only to mess with me
Melting my kidney, kindling the fumes that
Set me apart from the rest,...

Lift me like love lifts life,
Leave me behind in this past to which I write,
Repeat your ways which welp you
Yell at me for I have done you wrong
Writhe the dividend to which I owe
Give me love, give me life
Leave me behind so that I kindle my time
Tell me I'm not bliss,
I forever hold my dagger with a sharp grip,
Give me power, give me strength
Stealthfully **** the hype,
hypocrisy heathes these hollow halls,
Set me apart from the rest,...

Watch as I cut these lines,
White as snow, it overloads the mind
Mind the razor ripping apart the rocks,
For blood shows when blood clots,
Cliche to say but those lines had been cut,
With that precious liquid gold...... Either.....
It burns, the feeling ever so old......
Judge me not for the bad I have done
Look at me in that finer light.....
Set me apart from the rest,...

As cold as another age, wracked with solitude,
A slow start to another beginning,
Unreliable cloud coats the sky
And the sea repetitiously roars in,
Cuffing cliffs,
Pounding rocks
With calamitous roars
Playing endless riffs across the sand.

We walked together down the beach
Troubled by the surf
Chewing on cigarette stubs, sullied by the wind
New ghosts in the half-light
Bearing years like backpacks.

Grown old in the gathering twilight
We chattered together, our footsteps picking
Wounds.  Barbed words
Like greetings, cheerfulness like an accusation.
******* a shared and interesting memory,
We cuddled together in the scouring wind
Enjoying each other’s casual warmth.

It was a time for reflection,
When love is a scab on evolving friendship,
Heartlessness the price of redemption.
The contrived book of your beauty,
The gilded ceramic of expertly rendered features
The undulating film of your gestures, coded and decoded
Through time.

Beauty is finite, crumbling to fleshless reminiscence
Fixed to canvas and celluloid
With tireless labour. In the end, signifying another thing-
Of little interest.
An artist’s casual thought, a director’s cut.
They barely remember your name,
Your laughter and wildness gone, missed by the
Senile artist’s transitory brush,
Clotted with hundred-year-old varnish.

A small house by the sea
Surrounded by flowerbeds sparkling with summer colour
Self-absorbed children, with whom we exchanged affection
And parted from, holidaying in Bangkok
With lovers of all sorts.
As the sea rolled towards us
And evening gave way to night.

Where is the life that i used to know
when I used to smell fresh baked cinnamon rolls
awaken in my parents bed when i dad worked late

Where is the life that i used to breathe
when D’s and C’s were non existent
and school was dreamed of not dreaded

Where is the life that i used to live
when barney and blue's clues were new weekly
and my mom picked out my clothes and cleaned my room

What is this life that i live now
where i can't have a room to myself
or be trusted by the people i love the most

What is this world i'm surrounded by
where girls wear shorts that look like underwear
and teen pregnancy rates are higher than high school graduates

what have we all been fighting for
a good spot in line for a new and non improved 2K game
or attention of a dog who doesn't even think your beautiful

why does it have to be this way
living in a world full of strangers feeling alone
with no one to talk to or to hold

how did it get this way
with scared peers afraid of judgement
and more people put down with harsh tones
then brought up with encouraging phrases

who says you were in charge
Who said you were queen bee
who says you're a better person than me

Do you really think you're superior to me
because you have wasted more money on a coat or a pair of shoes
because your so called friends said you're prettier than me
because you got you cousins to jump me

how did it end up like this
baby daddy this
cuffing season that

Why can't we end this
end the judgements and harsh tones
end the criticism and superior ones
all that he said she said crap

Be the bigger person
forgive that guy who broke your heart
restore that broken friendship