he tried to be a loner—his demons
wouldn't leave him alone
caught in the action of girl's bodies
moving slow. swimming depths of
chlorine; and drowning himself in
alcohol

                           ...it's all so brief

faded kiss
—nostalgic; an old picture
perfect dreams in their colour
all the memories of a former lover

                ....i used to be in love

Cuts of grass
leaves in the wind
   a moment to be free

Breathe, heavy sigh
a corpse of time
   death but long slept eyes

Oversharing life on feeds
overshadow foreshadowing needs
    it will all end in the usual tears

A love for I—selfish
a love undeserving—relish
   loving honestly, what is a blemish

Feast your eyes on food for thought
and with sweet nothings sought
   afterwards do keep their word

Life is a written poem
a river of those words flowing
  to know where we are, to keep on going

Pink sky; a blushing moon
by the compliments of dusk

By the sun—shown to be overbearing
shadows, chasing behind a tall stranger

The clouds have covered the sightseeing
tour of the journey to a questionable life

A bearing chest of emotions,
bare hairs, and without pride to speak

I feel the crawling sensation of a love sicken
child, under my skin.

You have given me peace from a piece of mind,
a piece of story we're yet to experience

Set opinions on my back, are the setbacks I have
on this love and its resilience

Wishy washy—soaked ideas of a love
I've written about on a Christmas wishlist

A letter in pink, a type of hoping for
good weather for the next day

                         .....perhaps whether I'll find the right love one day

A date out with the stars
my romance is a bit outdated
leisurely play, too relaxed to find love
Soundly calm moon whispers
tickle the ears of someone feeling blue
a sea of ten thousand tears over you

I've cried, and cried, weeping the whipping
of lashing out feelings. Not many take me serious,
not being a lover's hero

                ....for you, I am your pain's anti-villain

"Empty plates
loads of food for thought"
~said the overthinker
"Empty pockets
of a penny for a thought"
~now isn't that rich to the poor

"Empty trees
killing two birds with a stone"
~so said myself with terrible aim
"Empty marathon
I should cut to the chase"
~apologies for the blunt knife

"Empty battleground
always up in arms"
~a man of war only knows a gun
"Empty ears
we're left out in the cold
~no intention to hear my pain

"Empty flame
how to avoid burning bridges
~a man with enlightened wisdom
"Empty dreams
then after I hit the sack
~kept all of my dreams in a bag

                               ....Goodnight

Green eyes
looks of the envious
On the greener side, of tired
eyes—the young and the restless
To be labelled careless for caring
less of the attention we have for love
Sorry I wasn't taught enough about love
on how to love enough, I wasn't loved enough
                    but enough of the subject on love
                          my eyes are too envious upon
                                        seeing others in love

behind dark humour
behind a confident fake smile
behind a humble demeanour
behind growls and random sighs

behind seemingly a character's eager
behind lonely quick responses to one you like
behind oversized clothes over scars on your figure
behind acting like you can walk on a thin wire

behind jokes of saying you're much bigger
behind pretending you're not waking up tired
behind thoughts of shooting shots on a tiny trigger
behind explaining dreams of burning passion—fired

behind a simping hero, playing self villain's vigor
behind seasonal seasoning of a season to cry
behind truthful scripture, and thoughts of a sinner
                                  suicide lurks behind a mind

I love you in good taste
why good morning kisses
Pain of experience, acquired taste
waking tomorrow on yesterday's creases

Late debates, on a pillowcase
pillow talk with smothered words
To prefer—things said in vein crawling
under the skins ~it was a long night

Depression...
angry vultures pecking at my mind

Depression...
crying glass out of my eyes

Depression...
a pretty portrait with only black lines

Depression...
defeating the purpose to fall in love

Depression...
street roses red of mistrust

Depression...
scars hidden under an innocent cut

Depression...
suicidal thoughts as an only option

Depression...
OCD with a lot of precautions

Depression...
misbehaving to fill a little noticed

Depression...
irritating as a bleeding nose

Depression...
an excuse non excused of sickness

Depression...
told to get over yourself and weakness

Depression...
coping with life by stress eating

Depression...
looking for another high in an addiction

Depression...
sounds so wrong when you're Christian

Depression, depression, depression, **** this depression

Welcome to adult!

                       Whereby we're conned into living,
                        more likey the con is adulthood
The freedom joy from not being too young to do something
is just being forced into responsibility, and ****** feelings towards          
                     being told to have your **** together

Welcome to adult!

                    Whereby freedom of choice is diluted
                   by somehow making the wrong choices
To know how to do something on someone else's past experiences
learn how to swim early when overthinking every deep thought
           You're never enough; as adulthood asks for so much
  
Welcome to adult!

                  Whereby being so sad when you’re happy
          drinking pain, being numb to self worth and love
Talking ******* towards each other, feeling ****** about ourselves
Sunshine in the back pocket, and keeping all our bright ideas behind
           Being an adult adds on your worries as if they count

                                                          ­         ....being an adult *****

The night plays a tune of crickets
in a perfect silence,
as I see an open window frame picture
of a white and black horse—life and death
Dancing closely as with my sleep in the middle
                   Do I brave myself to shut my eyes?

All the fixation of a fictional mind
Seen as the scene playing on my pride

Makes of a fool, full on their stomach butterflies
Caught by love, in nets of its scent passing by

Buy into dreams; if to only afford imagination
Thinking of those you love and to lose concentration

Concerns of connecting factors, factoring in time
A factory of my heart, trying to work out how you'll be mine

Mind were you dig in my many deep thoughts
Thwarting me—I am a haunting manifesto of public courts

Courtship of an engaging conversation I'd always keep
Lost are words to a chest's heart; of love being the key

Keen on the grin, grinding a motive to work up a nerve
Nervous, shy man—can't speak up on public's street curve

And so bent out of shape, to express this final say
That despite of upbringing, we're up to falling in love some day

As with the most slipping tears
The wettest eyes only to cry at night
The moon is my comfort as an afterthought
On the bright side after dark, it burns to fall in love
Hoping it never loses its spark

Smitten remarks, smithing words to say
Fabrication of the moments of a first date
You'd bite your words desire like a sweet cake

Bones lie where they weight
Death of lovers comes as an eternity being apart
And in the heavens we'll meet to entwine separate hearts

The heartstrings pull and toil time
Incessantly working upon gaining trust
But in an instant a lie could break a love
Stick to vow, solemnly not only heart
Mind, heart, body and soul in place for beloved
To have been cut by love—forever carved

The end of tongue ~
          a tip of wisdom
The end of pen ~
          a piece of which written
The end of middle ~
          a finger sign curse
The end of lips ~
          a favourable kiss lost for words
The end of time ~  
          a first breath of life, a first too death
The end of love ~
          a person seen object, feelings lost depth
The end of oceans ~
          a wave hello of new tides
The end of day ~
          a moment anew arises

      The end isn't always the end
          but just the beginning of another

drinking hot coffee in summer
ice cream for the winter
hot spices on a mild tongue

cold showers in the morning
challenge to how I'm writing
drowning depth in my deep thoughts

reasons to explain the dream
opposition to say I'll never make it

it's a subtle pain,
to inspire me to push through it

Lovely out, cut my tongue with words
"I love you" in an end rolling in
the carvern of my heart caving in
But I don't want to go there
Into the night, time burns my eyes
Of how long you're out of my sight

Shooting at heaven's stars,
An angel fell for me

But if you expect me not be crazy in love
You haven't questioned my sanity

These open arms are so lonely
Please won't you come to me

Life has sanctioned my heart's sanctuary
I just need your company

And if I keep on chasing stars
I might finally earn my wish
All shooting stars pierced my heart
No escape, from a lover's will

she was scarred by words
painted by unholy titles
netted by momentary stomach butterflies
would love, though not loved
giving a hand, to a fistful of hate
she'd say less, they'd select
only hoping to impress, but just seen for ***

the scene plays in my head
of her story. a nightmare in my head
the tragedy of her and I are friends

Oh mightily
seems a chasing sunflower
bending to the will of where light lies
My settling empty eyes, peering at holes
dug trenches burying dying seeds in heart
Does it matter, matter how long gentiles
take to germinate. You fertilize your words
in my garden; I'm always a mess

There are weeds in my garden

Stop me if you've heard this before
a sad person with the prettiest smile
Their cries lost on the fabric of a pillow
to pretend they're having fun;
He sniffed a line of salt
—stuffed rocks in his chest, it grew a rose
black rose, scarred and charred by being in the sun
He pours out his heart, the words come out as jokes
or to those listening with uninterested ears
They can't hear my pain

There are weeds in my garden

Who to cry to cry
when you've been told you've cried enough
always told to man up. Put your chest out;
you're no excuse to admit you're cut up
like a flower head cut from the source
So much to express, but so little words
so little time, so little time, so little reason
to fake a smile

There are weeds in my garden

Choked
my slurry words, speaking slurs
running words into another chasing dreams
pursuing success in less than successful ways
cheering for others jeering back at you
No excuse to cry, but just tears watering my garden
r.i.p to weeds ripped out of my garden
                             only for a moment.

he had voices in his head
all pushing him to the edge
they come to you live,
but are all wishing him dead

the silence is loud

Me, myself and I,
with all the demons in my head

A halo above with glass in my shoes,
dancing sharp steps; I put salt in my wounds
A needle in the eye, sewing my tears shut
I don't want to cry anymore. The depression hits my
chest, my buckled knees touch the floor

Chasing shadows; the eagerly darkness consumes
I'm going nuts from always being *******
I lose track of my tears, crying best in a bathroom

I've made a claim to stain my name
made fun of in creative new ways, but it feels the same

I pray on the weight of my sins
why waste another breath if it gets heavier within
I cut myself under my chin, I cut my lips to extend the grin

I threw my scars on the wall; bouncing back at my face
my mind of rushing thoughts is a game of tag and chase
I hung myself upside down on a willow tree by my waist

Cracked my skull on a rock underneath my despair
And in the end my demons were freed out of my head

                                                   I'm depressed again.

do you ever feel sad when the world spins
head spinning every time you day dream
thinking you're just a dream,
and when they wake up,
you'll finally see
what's real

                                   or is it just me?

childish tears
spilled popcorn during the show
chasing light in the night

a tent without a roof,
for aerials to perform in the stars

but alas, the craze is blue—
of tides seduced by the moon

Open to a breath
The inhale, exhale composition
Tongues written of words only said:
By two intertwined

It chases, of eye’s rushing gaze
A praise to beautifying mirrors of time
Experiences only shared in story
Only by memory—what we do remember
A moment so precious

Ashes upon the smoke of burning passion
The eternal flame of love, internal
Yours exterior is the factor of my impression
Impressed by the taste of sweet desire
Oh so little

Litter my heart, of stained wickedness
It’s surely wrong to meet up like this
But like this, we seemed to be so free

Under the shade of the pink flower tree
Where our first kiss had been
A scene of film, pellicle thoughts
As you still play continuously in my head
How’d I forget our first kiss
Under the shade of our pink flower tree.

Would the wind still blow in your eyes,
staring at the sky?

Kissed by the moon, dark skinned in the day.
You blush, but it's just an awkward smile.
You bruise easily, but it's just another skin line.
Your heart is warm, keeping in the sun's ray.

Looked as being so different; as they'd say.
Your blemishes are pure to their appearance.
You beauty colour is made to have resilience.
No matter it's shade, be proud and put it on display.

                          ~Its your beautiful African skin.

To give summer kisses, but they taste like winter.
Called her flower, but every time he's with her,
she will slowly wither.

In her eyes—overwhere it always burns.
But not of passions; just a feeling of her scorned
flesh. Ashamed, close enough to bruise.
Filthy fingers that are winter in June.

Under his toxic power—oh the death of a flower.

Your love lit my eyes
a burning forest every time you leave
A bullet in my chest—every time I beat,
I bleed
Reminiscing on a stolen kiss, that which
I never got. I write about love out love,
while in love listening to every break up song

Building myself to fall in love
soon to be a crush tearing me down
Losing myself searching for you
hating myself to have love for you
killing myself to bring up the life in you
I can't stop just falling in love with you

Your smile trapped my eyes
watching a pretty devil telling a lie
I listened intentively, listing all of the best
replies
Stuck on all imperfect moments; that seemed
to be a lot. I write about love out love,
while in love listening to every break up song

Building myself to fall in love
soon to be a crush tearing me down
Losing myself searching for you
hating myself to have love for you
killing myself to bring up the life in you
I can't stop just falling in love with you

Your story told me your worth
still young, belonging all to the world
Storing gladness in a shallow pocket; a past
to hold
Fixed on your picture; cropping your memory
out. I write about love out love,
while in love listening to every break up song

Building myself to fall in love
soon to be a crush tearing me down
Losing myself searching for you
hating myself to have love for you
killing myself to bring up the life in you
I can't stop just falling in love with you

I want to fall out of me always falling in love.

Walking along the ocean: my mind was imaginary, swimming
in passions again. My dreams became companions in my
loneliest nights—a closest friend.

The colours of time were a painted clear picture; the black
and white meaning of life written all in scripture.
I sang praises with rocks, mountains, and every living creature—hoping they would comfort me again.

I was dreaming of the end, it was such a dark picture.
In the same darkness before the beginning, I wondered if I
was alive, or close to my death.

Sinking into an ocean of tears, walking along nothingness
hoping not to slip. Trying to keep track of all of my past
steps, spending fashionable time. I was fashionably late.
Wearing down my heart, of the evil I've done—I woke up early
this morning to repent.

These voices were chasing, but I chose not to run. They passed me
over in one quicken rush. And I thought if was saved by the
colour of Love.

Or was it the white rising flag of mery upon my sinking ship.
I can't tell you what it was, but I could say it was peace—I was
just lost in a world of Colours & Dreams.

I touch pieces of Heaven every time that I sleep.

I have these lonely sleeps, as it feels like my depression
is controlling me. The pain is deep; I lose track of time
dancing on my feet—I'd sell my soul for just a night of peace
But I’m not the one talking, it’s just the demons inside of me

My past is dark; a fragile shadow made of glass
the compliments I hear just sound like laughs
I try my best to relax—but it drives me crazy, and I hope
I never crash. But in the end who really forgets their past,
unless of course you never lived the memory, so
you’re always trying to deal with that

                             ~I’m just this constant shadow glass
                                                       hoping not to break
                                                       hopeful not to crack
                                       hopes of repairing shadow glass

I have a running mind, chasing ***** thoughts
my feet are shadows of stepping into a dark past
tears made of stone; to cry and put up a wall
dreams are glass—careful not crack if they don't happen
And being in love is time, I'm just searching for someone right
to spend all my time with...

The power of words:
of how friends become fiends
Are we not selfish of opinions
of saying what we think without
Giving it too much thought
The power of words.

The power of words:
of feeling pretty and petty
Are we not ugly of schemes
to be the man of a manipulate
To force another to seem absurd
The power of words.

The power of words:
worshipping idol, your faith is idle
Materials won't materialise in the end
depending on their salvation
It all ends with the world
The power of words.

Running with kids who only speaking subbic
Doing the worst of things with no care in public
Girls clutching stomachs, in their guts screaming they love it
To find the whole thing disgusting
I'm discussing all of my judgements
Still not relating with my cousins
And it's kind of scary how time feels
Tired of making mistakes on life's lonely wheel
Made up phases when every boy wanted fades
Singing about Compton, but never what we were raised
But our corrupt streets will eat your heart, and be grazed
And when you tried to be fresh, pretending to be cool in school
As wanting to break all of the rules, we know we never could
Never should—but it felt good knowing you were the dude
Thinking of how to impress girls, meant you being rude
But I must of learnt a lot
Really from all the things I never got

I just need to apply brakes to my heart
I just hope it doesn't break me apart

And as I'm growing older
I've got more warm remarks, with handshakes getting colder
The essence of confessions, all the time feeling restless
Not fitting in with the rest, and I would care less
So often careless, but let me learn from my youth
I've got glue in my shoes, stuck in place and dance moves
But I must of learnt a lot
Really from all the things I never got

I just need to apply brakes to my heart
I just hope it doesn't break me apart

In due season, the yesteryears
of what once youth could be:

—I've been young in love
—an old soul, but of a young heart

Like as a child likens their time to being
plenty as when the sun is in their eyes
Our youthful days have come to set,
a flower in the skins of being a beautiful
fragile being

I'd be like you see of my nature,
twisting to sun of my creator
We are all beautiful flowers—
in the grounds of time, and life
Planted with purpose; we grow, we live,
wither off, and eventually die

                           ~This is all our lives

Here's to the hopeless romantic
the overly dramatic, shooting
pointless shots without any chances
All the young are easily falling in in love
and I'm wondering if I'm too old to die young

But I have the friendliest remarks
not being appreciated in the best regards
In the interests of only getting side hugs
Pestering as pesticides, to repel love bugs
drinking alone in the club—as if I go out enough
As if I have a lot of fun,
as if there's a party favour I'll find in any one

Though I swear the thought of it
almost cures my depressing thoughts
In questioning my worth, each time I make
a mistake during work. And putting every pain
of my day in every word
Worthy of the fact, I love to convince myself
how not to talk to girls

Though here I am; a someone amongst
the guys. Anxious to say hello, but giving
up the best smiles goodbye
I'm like with Wi-Fi; searching the crowds of who
to connect with. I'm single in always missing a
girl's signals

Connectivity—wondering who wants to
party with me. I was depressed all my life,
but only new what to call it at fifteen
The fifth of tins, storing up your emotions till
my later teens

As I haven't dated a lot of girls
girls so pretty, pretty much make me pretty
scared to talk to them. So I just say a rude joke,
and mix it with me sounding witty

And somehow being more open on
paper, then in person, and speech
I'm shy to sound as a preach,
stuck on scrolling screens, and sizing a peach
Interactions turning me red by my cheeks.

As I always accepted these words being
unheard. The author the world ignores
of their words. Is it just me feeling like the
saddest person on earth

Only as the sun shines
Rising to the dawning of eyes—had I realise
we are then only seen beautiful, as like stars of night

The astrologer said to me, “the markings of your skin,
be as tiny dots of stars. Imperfectly perfect, as constellations
tell their stories”

I stored her knowledge,
upon the wisdom wrapped by lips—still with the
wondrous mind of child, we all want to discover

So as the child of the astrologer, I went out
into the world to discover, all not yet discovered.

Inferior superiority
Interior seniority
Insecure authority
And insular metaphorically,
I'm liken to a voice of Mr Nobody

Smoke ashes
Soak gashes
Broke hashes
And woke scratches
Been foolish of taking many chances

Underestimate sentiment
Unintelligent celebrant
Evident etiquette
And relevant testament
But still being treated as a detriment

While if called unreliable
Still viable by the words of man and woman
To sound as desirable—
But told his manhood isn't sizable

All my life, I've been underrated
and my feeling towards it is so jaded
Of the times of being underappreciated
My pride is deflated—but I must deafen ears
To all unfair opinions stated.

Stillness
or as the wanting eyes would
wish to see of beauty

But babe, love isn't always as patient
as who hasn't desired a feeling of that rush

Crush, crush, it's crushing my heart
waiting on proclaiming my love
But it's a heavy still; of being under a rock
                                      Love is so hard

Death in a room
his eyes are blackened tomb
everything ends dark, as it began in the womb
Born out of a wound
sewn by the desires of still having youth
But how long do we have, the many breaths
till death's stench—our time is so few

Dire hours; heaven's closest bird to their gates
rising to her, the same straits angels fell
The sight of which, burns all of my face
Earth was just a light version of hell, sometimes
as with tiny little devils in your head, exploiting
your days

Dearly disturbed—don't wake him up too soon
he's just resting his eyes, from seeing another
distaste for life. Wipe away his tears with a pillow
that soaks all his cries. Let him slip away into a
day's night

Doses of depression, he's on the drug of sadness
wrapped in linen—leaning on the leisure of
a moment's death. Given time to be called by
value. Soon after he rises.

             The sad Lazarus.