We read our books and pretend to
not make glances at each other.
We smile as if the pages in the book had tickled at our sides.
We write love stories in our heads and forget about the ones on the page.
An uncomfortable warmth surrounds us as we pretend not to pose ourselves in our chairs.
As if we are offering ourselves to the sun to immortalise this youthful love.
Our hands quiver as we turn each page.
Like these stories will ours come to a brief
end?
And though you and I are nothing,
destined for
deletion,
taunted by
extinction.
We pray that these feelings are more than that.
But when I see the stars in your eyes my worries float away,
for I know this love is cosmic.

You're too comfortable around me.
When I scream that I'm leaving
you don't even bat an eyelid.
When I dress up all s e x y you tell me to move away from the tv.
When I try to spice things up
You ask me "Aren't you too old for this?"
Am I ?
Why are you ignoring me?
You're looking but are you really seeing me?
We're talking but are you really listening?
Are you still the same person who said they'd give me everything?
Why does it feel like all you've given me is a place to do your cooking?

A  punching bag to hit when you overdrink.
A piece of furniture to cover you and your mistress's d i r t y deeds.
Yet you won't divorce me and I'm down on my knees.

You're too comfortable around me.

Do you know what I like?
I like when relationships drift apart.
No stimulus for it, but they drift
like waves it has its highs
yet, it eventually comes crashing down
into the shores of time.
Memories of your time together dance as
small ripples in the oceans of your mind.

However some relationships are not slow drifts but...
storms.
Powerful bursts of experiences:
excitement, fun, pain , loss, hate,
that dissipate into the empty air.
Only the  rubble that litters your mind
serves as evidence of its existence.
Evidence of the high, the lows ,the lessons learned
the lessons ignored.
Evidence, that damage yet fortify the economy of your mind.
Preparing you for the next storm of a friendship.

I wanted you to be, who I wanted you to be and I regret it. You're not the man I love. The man I love is in my head... A figment of my corrupting imagination. You didn't take the advantage, you didn't even play the character -it was just I who played the fool. But you could have stopped me, halted me right then and there. Stopped me in my deluded tracks. I'm an idiot. A fool. A vulnerable lover.

You **** on my beliefs, you deny the existence of my gods and yet
You question my prayers.
Suspect my allies, flirt with my enemies.
Holes where there should be butterflies
Yet, you pretend to understand.
Eavesdrop on my confessions, belittle my priests
Yet you listen to your saviour with deaf ears.
You read his words with coloured glasses.
Surely, you jest, no you chastise.
Surround yourself with comfortable lies.
Your biggest problem is who am i?
But sir/ ma'am/ person, your crown is bleeding
with tears, blood and leaves.

Inspiration Come To Me!
I don't want to think...
I WANT TO-BELIEVE!
I could sit here for hours,
I could sit here alone,
My brain might be here... but I need
You the most.

Take the mask off when you speak to
me.
I know what you are.
No need to sugar coat those words for
me.

You're a monster, beautiful and scary
and 'twisted' into an elegant knot.
You don't have to hide from me.
The hiss when you talk is enchanting.
Don't be shamed your just like
me.

Those pointy horns create a gorgeous silhouette and
Those terrible thoughts pulsing through that deformed skull of yours.
The ones that can't be revealed even in death.
Say them. Converse with
me.
Forget the pleasantries, the politeness say them to me in your crooked way.
let us exchange our terrible thoughts.
let the world grimace and ostracise us.

Don't try to be like them
we're outsiders.
Destined to spoil there pretty picture.
Mutants. Uglies. Nut-jobs.
Destined to waltz on the edges of society.
Hanging, on loosely to our humanity.
They don't understand our song.

We'll make our own world.
Where our thoughts are so  free, they fly through  the streets.
Where we love to love and  we love too much.
Take if off, we have each other.

Let me sit in the shadow of despair,
if it means being with you.
Your cold eyes;
let them see my tears,
observe my scars and make more,
will you?
Take out all your emotions on me,
you don't have to suffer,
so give it to me!
Hit me until your hand print is clear.
Baby I love you,
so hit me with your warm belt.
Please...

Are my tears made of gasoline?

Why do they stoke the flames of your fury?


Are my tears icy cold?

Why do they make the warmth of your love, cool?


Are my tears hideous?

Why must you always look away when I cry?


Are my tears ear-splittingly loud ?

Why do you look at them with pain and irritation?