I hate you like the hoarse, dry throated cockeral hates the rise of morning sun. A hatred that repeats itself over and over with closed eyelids. It is a strange emotion to hate with hope, as all creatures do that something miraculous will emerge from the same, tired nothingness. A foundation built on what if's and maybe's. when in reality everything always repeats, always.

There is a spider in the kitchen we're both just stood staring, it and I in a trance of who runs first? Are you dangerous or am I? I try to catch it under a glass but it will not move, are you dangerous or am I? I step back it needs time to recover, we both do. There is a spider in the kitchen are you dangerous or am I?

When I'm sad it rains,
its been raining a lot lately.
And just like that sentence I've been skirting around the edges trying to avoid direct contact with anything.
I feel like I am edgeless and not in a 'you are limitless' kind of way.
More like I have no idea who I am anymore and it scares the hell out of me!
I don't feel sad in the same way I used to when I could attach a tag to each emotion and say I know you.
I feel shattered and used like every bone in my body has come from a charity shop and I'm trying to figure out how everything works and what pieces are missing from the box.
I am drowning in my own rain and every breath I try to take to remind myself you have to survive,
fills my lungs a little more until I have to scream *******!
Bring it on,
because I refuse to die in this weather, just like the past I cannot change it but my coat has a hood and like everything,
rain is never permanent.

It is half-past one in the afternoon, I have bobbed on the sea of empty deepness like a buoyancy aid with no purpose but to bounce.
I bump into emotion after emotion like a cascade, a waterfall or a tornado just trying to score high on entropy.
I am high on emptiness yet I am full, full of all the words and memories that have been shoved inside of me like a stuffed turkey.
I cannot draw a line between one thought to the next like a connect the dots but the picture does not make sense.
I feel empty and full as if I've eaten a huge meal yet I've eaten nothing at all.
I still have hours more to digest.

My stomach gurgles day and night, it is not hungry but afraid. My fears have fallen from my mind into the pit of my stomach and I can hear them screaming to get out.

Some days poetry isn't enough, I've read enough about love, now I need to feel it.