The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

what really is addiction?
what kind of a question
disheartening and mad
the outcome: disappointing and sad?

you made of flesh and bone
but could I still be addicted?
you broke, you smile, you sing songs
is these why I am hooked

you will always that energy
efficiently touched every part of me
the brain that governs
my affairs and decisions

but now my mind written in doubts
soar high beyond the clouds
does the soul creates emotions
or was it emotion, the cause of addiction?

how could I know the possibility?
all I know is falling for you
we share dreams and laughter and go through
sunshine and rainy days together: it’s our history

i don't care about terms; was it love or lust?
or is it an obsession or an illusion?
cos we'd always be that colourful autumn
together our love will crisp and rustle along the street

If you ever walk out my life
no one will fill up the space
therefore, I'll fill it up with tears
I'll cry and cry and cry
an ocean for the fish to swim.

If you ever slam the door
no one will fill up the space
therefore, I'll pack my suitcase
I'll pack it up with clothes
I'll pack it up with tears

If you ever say goodbye
no one will fill up the space
therefore, I'll dig myself a hole
and fill it up with flesh
I'll fill it up with tears

I will lie and cry and die