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Feelings are just feelings,
They don’t stay where you want them to,
Try to hold them back and they start a fire behind your eyes
That burns with a fury of passion,
Before extinguishing inside.

Releasing them when they want to be freed seems to be
The best way else they seethe,
Writhe in agony,
Betwixt between the soul
And reality.

If only the world were allowed to be that honest
But it’s no good being an idealist about these things,
I’ve felt the hurt and hope it brings
And it never goes anywhere,
You can never be too honest with someone,
“Sometimes the truth hurts”
People say,
I’d take the pain of truth
Over what lies do
Any day.

Intentions hidden under false smiles and hugs and handshakes
They’re not doves they’re feather coated snakes
Slithering out of a sleeves cover
Lies sliding a little further
Is it easier to go along with the lies that we tell each other,
Than be honest with love like we’re sisters and brothers…

…I hate that I have written this,
From me,
A man with misfortune,

an idealist.
It rhymed, it seemed sensible
Although maybe reprehensible
Because it didn’t quite make sense,
Questions with no answers
Intensifying with the questioning
But never mentioning any answers
Just mysteries but no attempts
To justify
What was being said,
The page being fed
with more words
read felt and heard before
But never quite sure what it was trying to say
It carried on anyway,
It rhymed because it seemed sensible
But it was questionable whether it
Had any meaning,
A room with no floor but walls and a ceiling

Are you sure you’re not looking at it
Upside down?
Surely it’s more appealing
The other way round,
Less falling into nothingness
The ceiling as a floor would be best
Or spinning really fast so you can’t quite fall
Because it catches you,
Hopefully no nails from pictures
In the walls
Because it scratches you
Spinning round
In a room
With no windows watching you.
Butterscotch table for two…

It doesn’t make sense,
But for recompense it rhymes
I said that already I know
But I need certain lines
In there because,
You know why.

Ladders wrapping like snakes around the branches of
That could be climbed unappeased
Were it not for nonsense
The cycle repeating over time
Not pleasing but feasible
reasoning untangible
But more manageable
Like conditioned hair
More easy to bare
The sense that the
Dense trees of time
As they climb entangled with ladders like snakes
Or vines
in their hair
They don’t make much sense
They just rhyme.
That’s just life.
And that’s fine.

Sometimes I don’t see you moving
You’re as big as the universe
But there is never enough of you to go around.
Do you have any family?
Are you watching me?

You move so smoothly
No space between
to mark the differentiation
in your journey as you constantly travel
into my eyeballs
and through my brain,
I am a ping pong ball
travelling in your ocean
It all looks the same
With each second,
Only to know by how far away I am
From the places I’ve been
the common denominators,
they will always be there
until I stop floating.

sinking into places unseen.

Do I get to keep the time that was given to me?
If not then what is your motive?
Whispering fingers
on skin
as the nerves
reach up
to be electrified
by soft slight fingers,

feeling lingers
in those places,

tiny impulses,
nails like
ghosts of ice dancers
on the surface
sliding up legs
then ribcage
over shoulders
to excite the back
then bums of each other,
reciprocating affection,

two touching

Traced through skin…

a flowing river.
Brickwork walls and soft lighting
Creating ambience of silence
subtle vibrations of
slight murmurs,
glows of I phones from broken conversations…

I love this tune                    
testing my patience          
caressing me,
Beat gets stronger,
Can not hold it any longer
Toes tapping
Bass bopping
head and hair
snare making
my hands start clapping…
and everyone looks round…
Maybe that was abnormal of me,
a shot of adrenaline serging through my stupidity,
Why do I have to worry
That I just want to be me?
I think
but I no longer care as I want to be free…
and my feet start tapping again,
and I think I’m going to wave my hands with my head this time
and I don't care if it looks insane

moon and ocean,
rhythm in line,
inside the motion
in my mind,
trapped inside,
eye’s peeping from the ice,
out to dance
It’s going to be fine
Staring people from the shore,
excited eyes
needing more
sailing out,
on these vibes
Saying ******* with my hips,
it’s my life
Swimming in my ocean
Not caring how I’m seen
Taken with the motion
Flowing fast and smooth
and free
bashing icebergs in the sea
With my shapes
Like ships
And dips
Mundane ripping
Breaking free
Cutting grooves
When the mood takes me,
**** the fear
rather be free!

And then the song gets cut early,
and I don’t like the next one.
I don’t mind it,
But I’m going to sit down now.
Wish I’d started dancing sooner to it.
I am a Hadron Collider,
Colliding my life particles together
deducing the common denominators,
finding the parts that define me.
With tender eyes
You tenderize me,
meat hooks sinking in
with the looks
that guide the
knife that slices
with each touch of skin
the cold metallic table,
unable yet manic
falling apart,
panic attacking
with each touch of the blade,
the butchers art,
taken from a stable,
for the sake of forsaken fables
feeble chunks,
fragments made into saleable pieces
the heart aside a different species
in a bucket,
It'll make great sausages.
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