‘Tell me, O muse, why is it you’re ******?
Could it be that it’s me?
My thanks are they remiss?’

Yes it’s you, you selfish fool, you have made my list.
You thank another, yes, your lover,
when your poetry I’ve kissed.

I am inspiration, not he, she, or it.
You did not have a clue, give credit where it’s due,
you lying *******.

I will warn you only now, you no longer have my aid.
Complete me, entreat me,
and your parts they will be flayed.

Invoke me once again and forever be disfigured
That’s your lesson, any questions?
Yeah…
That’s what I figured.

When did the measure of your worth become a brand?
Banded sneakers, streaking vibrance,
vibrating mobile nuzzled in hand.

These do not make you.

Backward cap, for a new era,
sagged pants, swagger stance
for this hoodlum hoody wearer.

These do not make him.

Gucci bags and other tags,
designer purse, cursing contraband,
fake names make her gag.

But these do not make her.

They say don't judge a book by it's cover,
so why a person by their assets?
if it were asserted by another...

Belongings do not a person make.

Kindness, courage, compassion, heart,
personality, wisdom,
even a love of art.

These a person make.

Take some time to introspect,
inspect the way you see yourself,
You'll be happier for it I expect.

You make the person.

There's a nail,
he's set up camp in my brain.
Hammered with daylight,
held infuriatingly fast by night.
Even the stiffest claw
would be of no use,
not anymore.
His presence would herald slumber,
were I of a normal stock.
But no. He brings attention to
the tick. The tock.
If I inch him further,
with fervour,
maybe he will abdicate,
adjacent to his entry.
But I know he'll return,
pitching by the morn,
leaving my rest
completely,
utterly,
torn.

Introductions are never easy.
Mousy boy.

Chains.
Ankles shackled.
Lungs rattle, relentless battle.
Loose phlegm, filling falling castles.
Under no pretense.
Moat; a barrier of defense.

Where voice is a drawbridge
Oscillating flow.
Open bandage.
Darkest window.

You are tea,
serene in your surroundings.

                                                  ­                                                         I am coffee,
                                                         ­                        attention always bounding.

Your colour a milkish pale,
creamy optimism.

                                                      ­                                           I am taken black,
                                                          ­                                           bitter cynicism.

Two sugars,
to match your disposition.

                                                   ­                                                      None for me,
                                                             ­             I'll maintain my grim affliction.


                                               We differ so much,
                                                     it's obscene.
                                                  
                                                   But in the end
                                               we're both caffeine.