I am a gypsy wanderer.
The only home
I have ever known
Is my body.
And I destroy it.
Those like me
Can never have a home.
So I fill my lungs
With cigarette smoke,
My skin with scars
And my blood with *****.

the intricate stitching of your brainwaves brings me to my knees.

the delicate sound of the words that pour from your mouth make my head spin.

the way you consume time and still seem to move so fast makes my chest crumble.

It always ends in ****, because the walls can't speak the honesty you need. Somehow you find the gratifying affection in watching other people make uncultured love in unkept sheets. We call this cycle, good enough. As our hollow hearts beat harder. Mass production of media, easily prescribed as a fault of technology. Mass media production is a man made reduction of ourselves behind glass emotions. Sickening potions, as you hit delete history. From your phones memory, but not yours kid.

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first smoke coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

Sitting in a smokey cafe
On a rainy Friday night
Next to a beautiful man
With a lazy smile

His hand reaching out for me
No answers lie behind his brown eyes
His touch does not tingle
The way you left goosebumps on my flesh

Beautiful brown eyes and a lazy smile
I smile back and swirl my whiskey
I don't believe a word he speaks
All I remember is your lies

I wonder as I look away
How terribly this has ruined me
When neither beautiful man nor whiskey
Does much to warm me

I wonder how long
It will take me
To regain the things I let you
Take from me

Even if I let him take me home
His touch will not fix what you broke
But maybe it will soothe me
Maybe another night,  
another beautiful man
Maybe another whiskey

I only hope the darkness doesn't
invade you as it does unto me.
Too often I have scrambled
within the pits it digs
over and over.
My arms, my will
may be just enough
to cast you away,
leaving but one victim
to endure the neurotic torture.
Allow it to remain internal
so I shall carry it
alone and eternal.

White Knight galloped swiftly 'pon
     his black steed to save the day,
  perky princess was awe stricken
     with the well endowed stallion
they trotted briskly into the future,
   and the knight retired to the dark side

It's sad because I can't talk to you about love
Instead we talk about stupid films,
The ones we will never watch together 
We talk about stories,
But not ours, never 
You look at me while I look away
And it *****
Because all I wanted was to tell you 
How cute your smile is
How the weight of your stare affects me 
And all I want is to hold your hand
But now, as I think of you 
I choose to be silent 
Silence is okay 
Silence is louder