We sat on that old pier,
as the others crab-fished by.
I found my hands beneath me,
in an attempt to keep them dry.

I traced the outline of a mountain range
with my tired, tearful eyes,
and the sun pinned me to the concrete wall,
stripping me of any disguise.

The fresh wounds on my shoulder
still oozed their precious blood,
yet we talked of days still to come
and summers, oh so far ahead.

Yet for a moment I almost believed that
what I’d done had been undone
but you struck me with reality
and my walls came tumbling down.

We looked at each other,
in the wild, unsettling sun,
with the sea-surf sparkling blue
and voices of our distant friends

ringing of the new
and interesting discovery that one crab, no, two,
had broken through the green net -
maybe that was you.

sometimes i feel as though
my mind was set
to self destruct,
and i just cant seem
to find the switch
to make it stop.
maybe that's because
it's buried beneath
the very thoughts
that set it off.

You may not be
The brightest rose
In a bouquet of flowers
But one day
Someone will find you
And call you their favorite
They will admire your petals
Your stem
They will withstand the thorns
And you will learn how to be soft again
They will see what most cannot

Beauty is in the eye
Of the beholder
And the one who holds you
Will find the beauty in your eyes
You may not be
The brightest rose
In a garden
But someday
You will be the brightest rose
To someone.

Once tall, he now sits stooped over a stool.
drool, dropping from his lips.
pen in hand and hardly a smirk to share
where he once mocked.
the clock now ticks
louder.
He’s still regarded as a ****.
by everyone but her.
and it sticks like gum under
table tops, and flips
and flops, because he once had a confident air.
Now there is a blatant obnoxious stare.
A history of charm does less good
and more harm than it should.

today's begging is finished; at the crossroads
i wander by the side of hachiman shrine
talking with some children.
last year, a foolish monk;
this year, no change!

I hate being angry,

At you, it makes me want to tear my eyes out and force them down your throat. If you ‘love’ me so much why do you reduce me to a pain that stretches across my chest as salt water crashes to the ground? You asked me why I was crying. I wanted to scream – it’s you! The way you half-heartedly avoided my worries as if to dismiss my heart from loving and to tear pieces from my skin and discard them with memories. You looked at me and turned away, I wanted to scream at you to give a ****. No, I wanted to scream at myself to give a ****.

Because in that moment you turned away, everything changed. As if my heartbeats rhythm became aligned with reality once more and my heart detached from you. Fading into insignificance, an imprint of loneliness in my hollow brain. The pictures of you etched behind my eyes were fading and with every tear drop, my love for you was drained into dry skin and tequila.

I wish I gave a ****.

But my stupid ****** friends looked upon me with more care than your weary eyes and no matter how many times you tell me you love me, why did you leave me alone that night?

‘I don’t know why I’m crying’ I replied.

You stripped me of my innocence.
Yours were the first lips
To press passion onto my stunted ****.
My body bruised by your touch,
Your forked tongue hissed through gritted teeth,
Caress me, as your hands rattle
With anger, desire.
Testosterone fulled triggers
Blew holes into my anatomy,
Ripping apart my flesh.
Now I tie stitches where skin should be,
I'm bleeding out my purity.
Drip,
       Drip,
               Drip.
The beads of sweat, roll downwards,
Trickling off your looming armour.
They dance with the oceans in my eyes.
Itching spiders romance with the bones
Upon my empty corpse.
Hollow reeking mass,
Devoured by play pretend.
Love lead way to self devouring devotion,
We play on ties with lit matchsticks.
Broken, singed strings,
Where my innocence should lie.