Rusty finger nails pierced into the
walls of scratching the night
There's an ear hole of your own accord
bleeding over your hearing of that pain-
Waiting at the back of your dreams; you
probably lived your whole life in a taxi
You've been overdue for love,- their really
owe you taxes; as your face held a field of
all your tears, to water the after pastures

You shrank away grasping onto old figures
of yourself- you had a crush for someone for that
long, that they crushed you under their thumb,
and from those skins is where you bled

            "We can only be friends,"
                                                they said

The whirlwind of thoughts, are all so trapped, like a gridlock
in my head: red, green, orange lights flash as I linger on
the edge of despair. Just two hours past, I savoured my own
pride, now I drown in a sea of spirits, chasing a fleeting high.  
Let’s ignite a night of gold with a silver-tongued deception,  
As the evening blurs into a dream, I find myself drifting off.  

What drives us to step into a club?  
To leave pieces of our hearts while yearning for love?  
To grasp one last taste of our youth, before it slips away.  

I’m in the shadows deep, I've sought the night, with these spirits
raised and smoke clouds in their flight; escaping echoes of the
past, in fleeting moments, I breathe fast.  

I take a dance with demons- I pursue them to shed the skin that
I once knew. In twilight's grasp, I find my way, but in a journey
forged in shades of grey. I carry no shame except for the shame
I willingly embrace.

Life:  
I knew you intimately, yet our time was fleeting.  
Fair enough, fair enough, I take my leave from all.  
In the cacophony, a haunting echo of guilt lingers;  
I can't grasp the reason, nor who merits such sorrow.  
But pin me against the wall, and I’d still feel like a fool,  
With a gaping void in my chest, I’d perish young, a foolish soul.  

I hear the melancholic tune we hum to remember you,  
Marking another year of life, wrapped in a heavy shroud of despair.  
I can faintly hear the last birthday song sung in my honour;  
I wear a mask of smiles, offering thanks in more ways than necessary,  
Anything to bring a glimmer to their bright faces. I suppose I should.  

I suppose I should bid my final farewells, as if I haven’t  
Done so every sleepless night, wishing for an end by dawn.  
Yet here I remain, trapped in a hazy recollection that isn’t mine.  
I dream of becoming a poem, only to find my conclusion,  
The final pages, the last words. Perhaps tomorrow, I’ll awaken
to nothingness.  

But is it possible that one day I might weave these thoughts into
a poem, one that captures the essence of our shared existence,
even if it leads us to face our final moments in solitude? This thought
lingers in my mind, sparking a deep curiosity within me.

As you reflect on a promise of tender hands; tiny
tremors shake your will to hold yourself together-
Tethering lines of kisses guiding your eyes to a moon
as you are a bright smile of the day, and the cool
whisper of hope late by noon

We’ve been lost in the yesterday of a garden filled with
flowers, that grow brighter as I look at their hues- I’m giving
my affection by an attention to pick at some petals: darling we
Both grew into something special; through a dream bending
my will to ever say no to you

Sometimes I get it wrong- especially when it comes to the
unspoken language of your eyes, daring deep inside my soul
when we’re alone to our own thoughts on this long drive home
My aim was a bit off, off into the places I think helps me better
into seeing your pain- but I can’t read your brain, measure any
of your griefs, or attest to being able to share all that you have
experienced

Still, I can offer my very dreams as an escape

The deep crimson wine simmers beneath the weight of your tears,  
your timid gaze fleeing from the shadows of your fears.  
How can we ever measure the depths of your anxieties,  
as they pull you toward destinations that seem to beckon endlessly?  

Underneath our shared facade, time rushes like a fleeting breeze—  
our days slip away, morphing into weeks,  
while your knees buckle under the weight of memories,  
the fractures of your bones now echoing the passage of years;  
some days shine brightly, while others cast a dull shadow.  

I often picture you from that last summer—  
the way you carried your father's care, the way
of your mother’s confidence radiated through you;  
how beautifully they intertwined
I reminisce about the home we once shared,  
our dreams adrift in the currents of our minds,  
fragile skins brushing against one another,  
as scars bleed into one another.  

I found a heart, one I never truly possessed,  
and I was overjoyed—yet now it feels like a distant memory,  
all those moments now lost to time;  
I wish I had clung to them more tightly.

To all the boys, we're going out for a night,
Toss a coin to say we're just chasing tail tonight
But we always have to keep a heads up, for when
You probably get denied by a dime, twice this night

As we’re drinking like it's the end of a movie scene-
Waiting for our eyes to fall to black, we could barely see

Unfortunately, I caught my teeth in the skin of heat,
And I tell you- it wasn't that wise to try and dance;
Hoping to give all my intentions to her eyes chance-
But by a glance, I seen all her friends having a good
Laugh behind my back, all because of my two left feet

I was sitting by the mailbox waiting on love,  stiff as
a recently washed shirt- sitting on an ironing board
I’m sorry if you catch me in a sour mood, there’s this moody
spirit that let me fall in love with the echoes hitting the wall-
While my voice was shouting at the wind; I could hardly breathe
My lover played a tune with my beard, as if they were guitar strings-
But I couldn’t complain to this lioness, for she’s the roar of a
mistress’s hungry temper

But I still love her so, still from the days of our courtship- and every
night she opens up to me as a suitcase, and I bare the luggage of her
nightly sores, with these bags hanging under my eyes-
I still love her so, as her chatter mouth is like a tap running,
and I’m her sink catching all that gossiping spit-

I still love her so, even as she’s an office desk covered in endless
papers, when she starts to feel like a piece of work-
I still love her so, cos she firstly showed me all of her flaws,
so nothing she does surprises me at all; still she was pleasantly
surprised that I still chose her, to be my wife