Sometimes I read poetry for a little reinforcement...
I'm not the only one with a mind like fine china.

Words are like fruit,
hanging freely,
really just waiting
to be plucked.
Some tantilize the tongue
with sweetness,
pieces meeting
our mouth with
juicy meaning.
Others leave
a sour shock
to our senses.
When this
bitter biting
heightens
the now rising
sense of
crying,
we recoil.
Curling away
from the
not so ripe
narration.
Patient,
for a  more
cohesive cocktail's
coming.

She's the kind of girl,
I'd worry about losing.
But she'll never know.

Sometimes for me,
grasping reality
is like dipping my digits into a bathtub,
full of fruit jelly...
The more I tighten my grip,
the more this
belly-filling preserve will slip
through my fingers.
I ponder this problem...
daydream or realdom

Then I realise
**** it,
I have a bath full of jelly now.

You brighten up my day,
like a lightbulb does a moth.
You illuminate my way,
so I can gorge myself on cloth.
You know that it's to you I flew,
you like to play your games.
But if I get too close to you,
I tend to burst to flames.

My head is a haunted house,
filled with windy ghosts,
and skeletons that battle,
that will rattle,
in the closets,
like the chill upon my spine.
The basement filled with vampiric comments,
******* self-esteem,
as though they were starved of it.
A tower stands where I have crafted a monster,
from the old corpses of guilty thoughts.
The streaked mirrors on the walls reflect twisted visions,
folding my reflection heavy-handedly,
as if they were packing them in a hurry to leave.
Hell,
if I could run, I would too.

It's terrifying in here.

I have forged my problems in cold grey steel,
unfeeling still, my reeling will.
Two to my mind:
One,
I hurt her...
and the other,
vice versa.
A forge full of regrets,
to temper my mind
with worry and upset.
Guilty for my mistakes,
problematic,
a blade I've made,
of panic.
Everything said
shimmers on the shining surface,
a reflective face,
that holds the feeling in place,
with a pommel of folly.
If I could,
I would take this weapon of regret,
that fooled you,
both, and steel myself.
Seppuku.