The regret of the mourners,
Eons of gratitude not-shown to the living.  
The false happiness of the greedy,
The unknown joy of contentment.

You were alone,
But not lonely.
Another was lonely and alone.
You both craved for more.


Now I hear the hurt in your laughter;
Now I see the pain in your smile.
Now I see the courage that you fly;
And I hope that one day you will be alright.

1: “could you not pick your nose in front of me?”
2: “I'm not picking, I'm scratching.”

And then, utter silence.
The hourly routine of the sitters.
Warm and clear or humid and foggy,
their day always manages to be bare and cold.
With their unpleasant sets of ashy, unwashed heels, broken through the years, the numbers untold.

Watching all that is theirs.
For a benchwarmer is a proprietor of anything that keeps abet, his deepest fears.
The greatest fear, failure, being the most aggressive,
jabs and hammers on his itchy, small, frictionless small back like an overturned adhesive.


For once upon a memory so distant ago that its credibility is askew,
Were men who had dreams and hopes, to awake to the feel of the morn’ dew.
Men who, have long since settled into their nichey existence.
Men who were once the go-to for persistent consistence.

The lighting of streets' corners -
Even those corners that hitherto were dark and unwelcoming.
As the sunset bleeds
on the city's disappearing silhouette.

The shimmering traffic;
The blares of multiple cars as they try to rush home.
As windows smile brightly to passersby.
The return of Santa Claus!


The holiday seasons,
Winter to the snow laden,
Harmattan to the arid lands.
Chilly on all sides.

The warmth of the fireplace,
The joy of the days to come.
The jingles of merry bells.
The bright lights of Christmas trees.

A reminder that all of humanity can still be happy.
That there is still hope.
That we can share in each other's joy.
And always be there for each other.

Stuck in an ending timeline;

whispers of love, the humourless cheer.

Taunts that appear to be laughing, at me;

a commoner's jeer.



I saw you,

then I wanted you.

my want became a need;

and my need is now the focus of all my deed(s).



What else is left to say,

should I mourn my bereavement

or laugh at my own foolishness?

do i love or let this ache i suffer for you eat at me forever?

Simin
Different doesn’t necessarily mean better.
Your violence, a misconstrued cry for attention and love.
Every road, no matter how long and expansive, leads to an end.
Your ignorance is only feigned bliss,
for the certainty of failure is a known warrantee for unrest,
the illusion of peace.
The demonstration of confidences shattered,
Like withering plant stems.
The misunderstood, the figurative unbeliever,
The needy, abandoned like leaves buried beneath the white of the winter.
The only answer to our extensive quests? Ding, ding, ****.

Ive stared at the flashing lights
As cars sped hurriedly pass
below the deck of my balcony,
Like I didn’t exist.

Ive awoken to the smell of indian spices,
As my neighbours cooked away chirpily.
As their voices filled the hallway,
Like I wasn’t there.

Ive stared as people crossed the roads
As the lights went from green to amber
As the cars failed to halt
Even as I stood, rooted in the middle of the road.

Ive slit my wrists,
In the hopes that you’d notice me.
As I cant think of nothing else but you;
But you pass by my side every morning, like I do not exist.

So im seated here,
Boats being decked
Fishermen going home to roast and feed
As I prepare to leap to my own demise.

Needles and syringes;
Heroine, my beautiful medication.
White robe, blue belt,
I was loving my profession of alcohol and drug indulgence.

Pipe ready,
my growing shadow, aided by the lighting from the burning flame below,
silently watching on;
“One hit and I will be perfect,” begs my ****** soul.

I have watched the moon every night.
Witnessed as she comes and goes.
Atimes, she is full and bright;
at others, she is nothing but a waning dull curve,
travelling leisurely across the sky;
Her face, a dire one,
filled with laughter and mockery
as she wonders what went wrong with me.
30 nights and 12months of 11years,
I too, an answer I have failed to find.

Last night, there was this darkness,
and all I can remember is the music that accompanied it.
Dark themed and suicidal,
Yet, it is the closest I have come to solitude in so many years.
Tonight I am back again, bent over my last dosage for the night.
“Dosage.” Indeed!
The moon is not in sight.
I wonder if my friend, if she is one,
Has forgotten about me tonight.
But there she is again.
Maybe she isn’t taunting me;
Maybe she is as confused as I am,
Or is she also lost?
Why can’t she seem to find her way home?
Oh the ramblings of a somber mind.