I just want to say,
I'm sorry.
I know, I was wrong,
it was the drugs all along.

I don't want to be the one,
to have to break your heart today.
But I'm sorry my darling,
I'm not here to stay.

I'm a lover, not a fighter,
and I'm not going to fight this.
There's something about this baby,
something I can't resist.

I have never been addicted,
to anything but love.
But I will admit to you now,
I'm addicted to this drug.

I can quit love,
and I can quit games,
but babe, I just can't quit *******.

I may be a fool,
and I may be insane,
but babe, I'm in love with *******.

I don't want you to save me,
so please don't even try.
I want to be addicted,
I don't care if I die.

There's no return for me baby,
just leave me here to die.
If I want to die addicted,
baby, it's my life.

I can quit love,
and I can quit games,
but babe, I just can't quit *******.

I may be a fool,
and I may be insane,
but babe, I'm in love with *******.

And when I,
finally die,
bury me right by your side.

And please,
always know,
I may have chosen drugs,
but I always loved you more.

I trailed a walk
And sat upon a bench,
A stranger sits next to me
And whispers
'You've got to let her know'
Watching me closely
Her eyes prodding
Inquisitive and alert,
I'm taken aback
Confused
I wonder what she knows;
'You've really got to let her know!'
She says louder,
Enthusiastic
And I stand
Commence to gap
A distance between us
I'm not sure what's going on,
'You really have got to let
This girl know you love her so much!'
She just shrieks,
And now I know
She's found my letters,
Like they've come to haunt me
Through this spectator,
How did she make out
The blurry ink
On crumpled paper?
Oh how I died each time
I wrote one,
Through the scotch and the tears
They came to be
Physical regrets of the words
I never said to her...
APAD13 004 - © okpoet

After some time,
You know that
They don't
They can't
Understand  
That scars like these...
They don't go away
They don't fade
They come knocking
At midnight to tell you
About how they've
Festered for so long
Even after, you talk them out
Resolve them, lay them to sleep
They revisit you, dragging you back
To memories best forgotten
Touches burnt on your skin
Half-remembered words,
Hateful, disgusted expressions
Cheapened expressions
That make your soul unclean

Ordinary, everyday people
Could never understand  
Why you need to look away
Fidget so much, the hidden
Violence with which you **** back
When someone touches
Upon such sensitive issues
Maybe you talk it over with them
Once, perhaps, and then they think
That it is gone, it is laid to rest
But what they fail to realise
Is that it comes back, creeping
Crawling, taking you over again
They'll turn away, disgusted
Because they don't know the
Impacts of long-term exposure
To slow poisoning of heart, veins, lungs

And they'll turn away
Repulsed, disinterested
When you come crying
Begging for some help
Some solitude
Because you can never
Make them feel  
The pent-up emotions
Over a decade
The unseen scars
These little things
Have left you with
They will not see
The confusing mixed
Messages being sent
By those other people
They will not understand
That you're not looking
For something you've
Lost, right there,
Sitting on the ground,
Almost helplessly,
On your knees

In fact, you're looking
For something
That was never yours
To have in the first place
(peace, solitude,
no more loneliness,
no more emptiness)

Something
you have
(never had)
Permanently
Lost

I know how I see myself
but
I can't stop myself from wondering

who am I in the eyes of everyone else?

when someone asks me a question
during a discussion in CWP
and everyone hears me
as i stumble over my words
in the center of that quiet room,
trying to answer the simple question-
"how does that makes you feel?"
and i wonder,
how does my stumbling and stuttering
make them feel,
about me?
does it change anything?

Or when i go to bed
thinking about
the conversations i've had during the day
and wondering how those friends see me.

I've never asked,
never had the guts.

My self esteem has always been low
I've always hated myself,
Sometimes i just hope
the smiles are true,
the friendships, true.

I've never asked

Who am I?




©Brandon Webb
2012

Sometimes people tell me to say happy things,
Conversations of spring and diamond rings.
Sometimes they take my black and brown away.
And hand me yellow, red, when I'd have gray.
Sometimes, they scorn my dress of blackened blue
For sparkled tops and flowery skirts in pinkish hue.
Sometimes, they don't want the mystery of night.
They'll have glittering doves in harmonious flight.
Sometimes, they "improve" me, and dub me a swan.
But  the mirror shows that my reflection is gone.

we circle the mall endlessly
meeting any female eye
hoping she looks back
we're desperate,
we're trying.
but everytime
someone meets our eyes
we look down
unsure of what the hell to say;
so we walk away.
back to the same stores,
same areas
we've already been.
and then,
we stop for a second
somewhere around JC Penny
and ask each other
"what the hell would we say anyway?"
and both our answers are
"i wouldn't be able to talk".
but we keep walking,
keep gesturing everytime we see a girl
but never walk up to her,
never say anything.
for two hours we do this,
reminding us both of how shy we are,
but we still have a good day.
I just hope next time i'll say something,
because i want to hold a passing face,
not a girl i already know.
there's no chance of ruining a friendship
with someone you barely know.
i need love without taking a chance
but i'm too shy to take the chance
of talking to an unknown girl
and hoping for love
just to avoid loving
a girl i can't take the chance of losing.
i need someone,
i just can't jump




©Brandon Webb
2012

it's always at night
that the epiphany comes,
that the constant downpour of thoughts
forms a constant shape.
how can i tell you that lately,
that shape has been your name?

my late night dream shaping sessions
have to stop-
epiphanies leave a footprint,
and i don't want this one to be filled by tears,
like all the rest.

I'll put the rain to better use
than thinking there's a spot next to you
for me

time to roll over,
fall asleep without dreaming

i think like this too often
for me to believe i've succeeded tonight

i'll wake up tomorrow still thinking of you
and thank myself for you not being her,
but i'll still be stuck-
dreams are hard to break,
false realities are worse
(wish i thought this could work)



©Brandon Webb
2012