Do you remember?
We've been here before,
it blew our children to pieces.

And we cheered and cried when it was over,
then we beguiled at our peace and tranquility, we envied our own visionaries,
and now we're back here again.

Are you willing to die for what you disagree with?

There can be a different world from this one.
This one that is so well built over time to keep things easy for those that don’t understand
the need for purity and transparency and excitement and wonder.

To keep things the same and treat innovation as gangrene.

Feel the life in the grass,
the freshness that breathy wind gives it,
the air that flows over your skin.
The feelings that turn your stubborn brain into liquid crystal tears,
the mirroring of characters that understand you, that represent you.
With them peace is at our fingertips.

It can be tiring looking for sunshine, but it’s glow will grace us all in time.

Good morning,
good morning, the weaponisation of life,
bears a resemblance to you.
Each morning, my dreams leave a taste in my thoughts which bears a resemblance to you.

By afternoon, I’m wandering, and through glistening windows, everyone bears a resemblance to you.
This afternoon, I hoped my fantasies would be quenched, my heart tense, then I realised,
my imagination had blocked my view.

Tonight, each night, I rest, as I walk through your rivers in my slumber,
each moonlit reflection,
bears a resemblance to you.

But only when I look in broken mirrors, can I see that solace is all that’s true.

People whose only meaning is to keep up appearances,
a competition of swankiness,
looking around like barn owls,
trying to hide from the inevitable bigger fish.

I’m just as bad for sitting here, keeping up with the jones’, trying to believe this nice time is worth it.
They sit and expect, despite having absolutely nothing to offer.
I’d love to inject you all with lucidity, and watch your life degrade.
Show the true colours of your damaged personality,
Expose your grey hypocritical ubiquity.

Bland and soulless,
empty and barren.

A dry riverbed,
I can see through the cracks and the confusion behind your smile.
As you realise without knowing what’s missing, that suave looks aren’t quite enough.

Naked heat.
The smell of no underwear.
The continuation of skin, past the waist.
Visibility.

Being at the centre of your body
and tasting all there is to offer.
The vulnerability of reaching,
catching your breath,
a collision of the most sensitive nature.
Senseless want.
Nerves.

The reveal of what no one else sees.
Eyes widen,
repression is lifted.
Imagination in action.
Fantasy.

Disgust, enjoyed.
Privacy, on each other.
Breath meeting,
Bare exposing contact,
Freedom.

A private exhibition of yourself.
Come closer,
and closer,
do what you want with me.

He’s a happy guy but riddled with toxicity.
He doesn’t want to die he just wants his life as he knows it to end.
Hooked up to all culture’s most poisonous habits.
An infection.

A boy looking up to a world of lifestyle comparison.
Stone, chemical, claustrophobic habitats.
Freedom chases you in the form of slick car adverts,
you just can’t get away from ultra cool pain.

A boy running through a field of urban misery.
Deep thoughts bore him, he’s only interested in killer one liners of the most escapist variety.
The ones that really know what they’re saying.

Whisky, blood, heavy boots stumbling on wood.
He can’t make it through the day without a drink behind closed doors.
Toxic blood and deep breaths,
never happier than when death closes ever further in.
There’s a breath more chemical than human and a look in your eye, like you’re lost in your own solace.

Everyone has problems, but it’s not bleeding into their lives quite like yours,
blood toxicity is too high to justify.
An intervention.

But smile baby and drink up tonight, you’ll be alright up in the sky.

Those with faux authority, brainwashed to loyalty,
realise that the people fought with honesty, originality, nobility.
More than corrupted power could ever conjure.
Give the medals to the children, who will truly fight for the world.
Their death is their life’s legacy,
their legacy, their legacy.

Their blood bares your cowardice, living by the lie they burned will be your demise.
They fought for freedom,
bludgeoned minds hopeful of overcoming nothing but oppression.

This will finish, though you can’t see the end.
But it will finish,
it will creep up on you and when it finally does,
you’ll be ever closer to eternity.

And they will live forever.

A flutter of happiness under dark skies,
death is in the air.
Vitality is rife above black ground.
Dirt is on your skin but eyes lock, fists rise and rebels unite as soulful as ever,
forever.

And their hearts are finally at rest.

I have too many thoughts,
I want to do something but it’s all in my head,
I’ll have a think and just when I reckon I’ve figured the whole universe out,
I will take no action.

Next thing you know it’s 10 years down the line, with a million wasted ideas and I’m reconciling with myself and settling for absolutely nothing, never mind everything.

Just like everyone else.

My depression isn’t emotional it’s a weight and it’s forcing me to the ground.
It's gonna put me in the ground.
My thoughts are a distraction from what’s truly on my mind.

None of my dreams came true,
now I pretend to take meaning in what I do
and get angry at things that don’t really offend me.
My time’s been and gone,
but I still can’t accept that I lost a long time ago.
At the top of a ladder I never wanted to climb, showing no reason yet still acting like I have presence,
when I have nothing at all.
I must look pretty small from down there
and with it all ahead of them,
the ladder’s shaking.
Rattling.
Trembling,
and I’m about to perish

I wish I’d sat by the window a little more often,
and appreciated my small point of view.

As the sun goes down on my line of vision, I’ll drift and be at peace,
I’ll be in love again.