Realisation can be a harsh pill;
One I've always struggled to swallow.
The dose, in this instance, was to be
That my happiness isn't a reward.

It's not earned through great achievements;
Contentedness isn't product of valour.
It's not found in deep breathing and spiritualism,
It's not created by anything external.

No.
My happiness will always be through
consistent fidelity and belief in a purpose.
A purpose that simply has to be weightier
than the small stuff we're sometimes thrown.

It's the consistent drive:
To love.
To laugh.
To make laughter..
To put pen to paper.
It's a thousand-melodies,
On twelve piano keys.
It's the gnawing hunger inside of me,
That says it would be simply unacceptable
For me to leave this world,
Until I have brought forth
Everything I feel I have within me.

Happiness is always going to be a fleeting thing for me.
And that's alright.
Because I'm only just getting started.

I've always feared the little things,
Because they're what stole my heart.
At first they'd sprout it's tender wings;
Then tear them and off, and me; apart.

So, I learned to hide my fragile self,
Behind walls that no-one could breach.
My broken parts on the top of a shelf,
In a box, that no soul could reach.

But then, you reached a lone hand out;
Butterflies broke through my ribs.
Ten-thousand words that I longed to shout,
Rooted themselves on my lips.

The little things will always scare me,
That much may always stay true.
But you,
You crazy,
You utterly absurd
You punch-something beautiful ******.
There's no better feeling than being terrified by you.

I've always marvelled at the human brain,
And the beauty of its complex intricacies.
It can process at speed beyond comprehension,
Its more efficient than any man-made invention,
Until I'm talking to a female... then it just really ***** me over.

I've always tried to take life by the reins;
It's always been my instinctive reaction,
That if demons knocked upon my door,
I'd sprint towards distraction.

And if they dragged me down to hell,
I'd stare Satan straight in the face.
I'd square up to the beast, flip the bird to defeat,
I'd say "*******, Satan! Not today!"

But sometimes your courage fails you,
Sometimes your legs get sore,
You want to punch and kick and run like hell,
But sometimes you can't fight any more.

No human can run forever,
But demon's can and they'll never quit.
But the only thing harder than being unwell,
Is finding the strength to admit it.

Well, here goes nothing.

I stopped striving for the perfect year,
Because my concept of "perfection" was flawed.
I was chasing a scenario in which,
I could go a full rotation of the sun
without anything going astray,
All my dreams being fulfilled.

This search for perfection,
Was like looking at a window,
And being annoyed because
All I could see was a sheet of glass.

But, I decided to alter my desires;
Try to live single year in hopes of good autobiography.

Meaning;
To say yes more often.
And say no when needed.
To relish in successes.
And learn from mistakes.
To love without exception.
And to be kind without expectation.
To revel in every single wonderful moment as they come,
And not letting their fleeting nature feed the bitter parts of me.

Don't chase the perfect year.
Chase an amazing story.
Leave readers captivated.
And your grandkids bored-to-death.

Let's not beat around the bush; getting drunk is fun.
However, that all depends on why you’re doing so.
Last week I drank to try and make brain going numb,
In hopes that Tesco Value lager would turn my heart to stone.
Love can hurt like hell when it’s trapped behind your eyes,
Out of fear that someone’s narrative may not involve you.
You swallow the truth, lock your jaw, make sure your tongue is tied.
The words stay stuck upon your lips - no guts to come to bloom
Love isn’t ******* Disney and it sure as hell isn’t perfect;
But when the smoke clears all I see is you, is you, is you.
And falling into pieces a thousand times would so be worth it;
If that's what it takes for a happy ending, then that is what I'll do.
     My love for you is imperfect, flawed; it has to stay concealed.
     My love for you is imperfect, sure - but ******* hell *it's real.

I'm used to holding my breath,
Forcing out jokes,
Always afraid to show how I feel,

But with you, I breathe easy,
No lump in my throat.
And I guess that means this is real.

The winter sky saluted me,
As I let my mind rest into daydream.
A brief moment of beautiful pause
To create faces in the clouds.

It was then that I realised
That just the sight of your face,
Soothed all the burns upon my skin
From all the time I've tried to cleanse myself
With the isolation that so often erodes me.

The air was cold, my lips were blue;
But still, I couldn't fault the view.

I'm not quite sure how I got here,
Or why your stare makes fear feel safe.
It's like you can read the aura of me,
But maybe you just read my face.

You cling on tightly to my hand,
And search for secrets in it's embrace.
But, you'll find no truth in reading my palm,
It's all written upon my face.

I'm not courageous, and nor am I bold.
But hey, at least I've got your hand to hold.

Breath comes in desperate,
I'm weak at the knees.
I can feel my face burn,
At ten-thousand degrees.

I reach one hand out,
And our fingers are tied.
I feel silent fireworks
Start igniting inside.

Logic drifts away,
My sense; ship-wrecked.
In the midst of the storm,
My brain and mouth disconnect.

Words have escaped me,
Still, I've made it this far.
I won't leave without saying
All the things that you are.

I'm ten-thousand things,
And I'm ten-thousand people.
Ten-thousand things that make up a me.

Sometimes I'm happy,
Sometimes not so much,
Sometimes I'm somewhere in-between.

We - as people - are all made up,
Of an uncountable amount of elements.
Always twisting and changing
Recreating, rearranging,
It's no surprise that sometimes,
We change like the weather.

Sometimes I'm sad,
Sometimes I'm neurotic,
Borderline psychotic, on the cusp of insane.

You're ten-thousand things,
You're ten-thousand people,
And I love every one just the same.

The greatest gift, yet biggest burden of mine
Is that I overthink; with no control nor choice.
A damaged, frantic mind over-working overtime
A creative heart trying to sing above the noise.
I hide this racket where the world can't see
And for dear life I cling on to the clouds.
Scared to lose grip, because what would I be
If let slip and dared touch the ground?
But then I met you; I felt my mind fall silent.
No noise I've come to fear inside my head
Every time I'm with you, my thoughts aren't so violent;
They’re filled with lyrics to a thousand love songs instead.
     If the words stay trapped behind my lips, there's still a chance maybe
     That you'll come across this poem and that's good enough for me.

I've always seen things like a child;
I see a flickering candle as fireworks.
I see fairy lights as a hundred stars of my own.
And when I saw you,
I saw you as the explosion in my life
that I never knew I needed.

But, as Shakespeare found out,
There's always a rub.

I see a light shower as a blizzard.
I see ice on the road as a ten car pile-up.
I see falling as dropping from the clouds
At ten-million miles per hour
Wind burning my skin Burgundy
Before hitting cold, unforgiving asphalt.

The point is,
I'm not blinded by naivety,
Although I've held it to my chest for so long
To form the super-group called "Ignorance is bliss".
My vision is just blurred.
I see the world as rose-tinted.

But, perhaps I see it that way,
Because what's the alternative?

To answer that:
The alternative, is to face reality;
I know that this isn't how love works.
I know that's it's imperfect.
But, the reality is also that it's nice to believe
That just this once I deserve it.

Lips are locked, breathe me in; I'm drifting away.
I'm sure, I'm sure this is falling.
Is this how it feels to be paper thin?
Is this how it feels to be weightless?

The moon was our spotlight as our fingers interlock,
I laugh like a fool but that's fine.
I'm skipping cracks in the pavement; I cannot believe my luck.
Oh, I've lived - but tonight I'm alive.

I tie up my tongue - hide the truth behind my eyes.
My hearts pounding away, yet I don't wear it on my sleeve.
But that look in your eye says I'm one of a kind,
And I know, I know you're like me.

If I sing at the top of my lungs,
Will your heart become my home?
I can see in the sparks that are flying,
We're tired of being alone.
My head is free of any worry or doubt,
I need space to remember this.
Petty fears mean nothing my dear,
When I think of what we could be.

Dear Brain,

I think it's time we had a chat,
About this situation we're in.
I'm trying my best to be patient,
But alas, it's wearing quite thin.

You're a Ferrari that I cannot fuel,
An itch that I cannot scratch.
One day it seems you are ferocious,
The next, you're lazy and lax.

Now, I don't blame solely you,
For the fault is partly mine.
As I'm sure you don't appreciate
Me drowning you in cheap wine.

I have so much to thank you for,
And I'm sorry you're feeling blue.
But, I beg you; get your **** together,
Because we've got things to do.

Sincerely,
Everything below you.

Doing something that truly scares you,
Although you fear the worst for the outcome.
Realizing there's worse **** you could do,
Everything's okay when all's said and done.

The curve of her smile,
Sweeps me away with the wind.
Like I am weightless.

If I were to fall,
It would not hurt me at all.
For I am weightless.

Check.

Relief.

Check.

Relief.

Check.

Relief.

Pause.

Don’t check.

Un-pause.

Sudden and devastating irony that one’s skin can crawl, yet none of their limbs work.

The only animated parts being my heart as it hammers against the rigid, perspiring cage that it so desperately tries to keep alive.

And my lungs, as they desperately gulp for air like they may never taste it again.

For who knows if oxygen exists in the darkness that lurks at the epicentre of the collision between fact and fiction.


Check.

Check again.

I’m not quite sure how I got here,
Or why your stare makes fear feel safe.
It's like you can read the aura of me,
Though, maybe you just read my face.

I'm not quite sure I deserve this;
To have butterflies shatter my pride,
And you perfectly see the broken parts
That for so long I've had to hide.

Yet, It’s not in this moment

I know that I’ve fallen,

It’s the one-hundred in-between.
All the times I’ve played 
"connect-the-dots
'
With freckles upon your cheek.

All the times I’ve stared in the mirror,

And I’ve cursed at my reflection.
For the face I see
Doesn’t seem like me;
Just a trick, or some deception.



And then all the times I pause
.
And all the times that I think
That the view I see I’d love with glee,

If you were stood there next to me.

I'm not quite sure I'm courageous,
As when our fingers intertwine,
You unveil the curtain of boldness
I so often cower behind.

Still, you cling on tight to that hand;
Search for secrets in it's embrace.
But, you'll find no truth in reading my palm;
It's all written upon my face.


Sureness is a fickle thing,
love is constant and still.
And right now I'm sure I love you,
And I hope I always will.
And if I'm not courageous, or if I can't be bold.
Well then at least I know I'll always have your hand to hold.

I've always winced at public affection.
But when I met you,
You seem to change my impression,
To "Aw" instead of "Ew.

They say love makes the world go round,
But this is just absurd, it's
Gravity that makes the world go round;
Love makes each spin worth it.

Across the room feels like miles,
Though I know only several feet away.
I've no words to say, so I try out a smile;
It get's lost in the distance between.

Time can't phase the way I've always been,
The same old walls to keep me discreet.
But I know, if I could ever let you in.
They'd shatter like glass at your feet.

What if I let it all slip?
What if I dare to say the words
That are stuck on my lips;
That you're just about the
Sweetest thing that I have ever seen.
And I'd tell you every single day,
Now, will you share a few with me?

I never thought that I would find,
Myself so perfectly intertwined;
A breath away,
Beneath the shadow
Of your fairy lights.

My eyes can't hide what they conceal;
That I long to savour how it feels
To get pins and needles
beneath you
Each night.

I won't let this
Slip
Slip
Away.
I won't let it
Drip
Down
The drain.
I won't let you
Sink
Down
With me
Because what would I be if I let you?

I sat annoyed at my brain;
It's two halves were being stubborn.
For no matter how I searched,
No words could I summon.

I paced into the kitchen,
My mind was all a fluster.
My weary brain scanned the room,
For an idea that it could muster.

My search came to a halt;
I spotted the fruit in its bowl,
"Finally! At Last!" I thought,
"A subtle spark within my soul!"

I assessed the sight before me;
beautiful, ripe oranges.
I knew right then what I should do,
Er... something... to do with a lozenge? *******. Back to square one then, ey.