As you traced your fingers along my soul

I knew what you expected to feel;

Curves

Yet all you found was;

Sharp edges

And your fingers bled

From beginning to end

Sometimes you are like a teenager writing a book for the first time

You stare at me for hours not knowing what to say

You type,re-type,back-space and re-type again

Sometimes you leave me for months,forgetting you ever started writing

Then when you look through your archive and see me patiently waiting for you to click on me

You hit delete

A writer lives two lives
One on earth
And the other on pages

The end of the worlds chapter is coming

Will you be in the rolling credits?

Being bound to love

Is bound to fall

But being bound to fall

Is bound to trust

And being bound to trust

Means even if that person doesn't catch you when you fall

You were happy to have died from the love

Do not try running from the past
That will be too slow
Instead board a train heading for the future
While having brunch with the present

I keep moving
Leaving behind a trail of words
Follow and you shall find me

I gave you my heart
When it was time for you to give me yours
I found your rib cage empty

Our girls deserve to be home
Bring them back
Let them be free!

They deserve to walk as free girls and breathe that way

We cannot sit back while they cage them like animals

Set them free!

Teenagers are scientists
They experiment often
And stay up half the night
They analyze the theories of the opposite ***
And try to tell what statement would evoke what reaction

Teenagers are the real scientists
Because when they mix too much stuff together
They are constantly blowing things up

Writers live so many lives
Die so many deaths
Kiss so many lips
Touch so many skins
Watch so many skies
Talk to so many ghosts
Cry so many tears
And live so many years
Writers dance to their own songs,even if the song is only their voice at 2am
Writers create so any pieces within the canvas of their minds
Writers have tried every potion,every drink to stay awake
Writers get high from the smell of ink and fresh paper
Writers love the way the word"Library"sounds on their lips
Writers have so many fears
Writers suffer so many diseases
Writers have so many nightmares
Writers have much to share
Writers have spoken to elves,fairies,werewolves and vampires
writers have seen mid summer night dreams
And have seen the love of a couple that had a tragic end
Writers have created,destroyed,crafted and manipulated so much.

That is why writers are some of the greatest to live amongst men

The bed was soft I didn't want to get up.The cool of the night just too much to let go off.

The children always come out with their mother,who is calling on me now,her glowing lips alluring

"Its time for work"even when she is pestering me I still find her beautiful

I know I'm not the only one however to lust after her beauty,after all each night people gaze at her making me realize how lucky I am to have her.

She calls again.This time a little angrier

"I was awake all night.Now its time you got up for work"

She was right,her eyes had not shut through out the night,her pale complexion dazzling people.

And the children always go with her at night
.but I guess it would be strange to see us together.

The bed feels like clouds and I really don't wish to get up,I can already feel her fading away to give room for me.

Its time for my show.Just like her people crave what I give,my heat also holding a luster,but unlike her I have a fragile ego and don't think too highly of myself so I don't like people gazing at me.

Some fools though still try to stare me down though I always win.

Shes coming to bed now,I know she couldnt breath through work.

I can hear her tucking in the children.Its like we have millions of them.
One by one their little voices give in to slumber

And I realize its my time for work
I blow her one last kiss.holding my breath

"Look out world,here comes Mr.Sun"

In the sea we call the world you have two choices

You either float and let yourself be seen for who you are

Or you try to blend in and end up being swallowed whole

Putting your faith in me is like tryingto fly a paper plane.

You know how high you want it to go,
But it always comes down

Before you take me
Read my side effects
You need to know whats coming next
"Anger,irritation,chest pains and sleepless nights"
Trust,with me you won't be high like a thousand kites
You will get no buzz
You will get no excitement
Nothing will be of enchantment
What you will get will be pain,insomnia,difficulty breathing
Because my burden is just so heavy it could stop your breathing
You may go a little deaf from my constant singing
Your ears would be blooding ringing
And finally the chest pain
You won't wish to remember my name
Because your heart would be broken in vain

"You're beautiful"

"Your poetry is amazing"

"You're sweet"

"You're an amazing poet"

Can someone ****** away the veil that's covering my eyes?because I can't see what you see

Being with you is like writing a novel
You know were you want to go with it
But you end up having writers block

I showed you my scars yet you hid yours

When you're a baby your friends are your bottle and your mothers hands

When you're three your friends are Mr.teddy and lego

When you're six your friends are your new bike and the occasional scratch on your knee from falling

When you're ten your friends are your tree houses and making forts out of old bed sheets and a white dress you found in your mothers wardrobe

When you're thirteen your friends are magazines and a pair of kitty heels

When you're 16 your friends are a scale and a measuring tape

When you're eighteen your friends are a whiskey bottle and pills

When you're 20 you realize you lost all your friends and your only company will be the shadows

The funny thing about love is
When you try to fill the other person's lungs with smoke,so they can't breathe without you
You end up setting your heart on fire
And burning it away

Never befriend a snake
yet I befriended you

You were a soft breeze that caressed my fragile flame
But when you grew too wild
You blew me
**O U T

I like following trends I do
Because being with you was like being on the what's hot list.
But when I had lost my luster...or when I was no longer a hot commodity
You crossed me off the list

Creativity is a beautiful creature.
It sits beside us and shows us worlds other minds can only dream off.
It gives us a plaque which says:
''Be different''
It helps us find out individuality
It kisses our minds with its rainbow coloured lips
And helps in the birth of glorious ideas.
It is a mad mans only companion,a broken dream's only hope.
The source of all invention,
Only problem is...its friends with Insomnia

Like a knife to my ribs..
its tearing...its tearing fast
That's what knowing you could be hurt is doing

You held me together so tight
But it wasn't till I was touched and fell apart did I realize you were fake glue.

One morning,a little bird chirped at my window
I opened it up to let this creature in.
It glided unto the pane,its onyx eyes shinning bright
It began singing a song that could make a harp stop and listen.
Its tone wore a coat of gold
And its harmony had the tenderness of a dozen wind chimes.
I listened intently at this bird with its sunset coloured feathers.

I translated its song and this was what I heard:

'Far and wide,I came back and forth to this window.But now I'll stay,I'll stay'

Its song was a promise that it would be by my side,through my pain,tears and heartbreaks.

But as bread crumbs flew from another window,
It flew away

.........*
               *Nope,I got nothing

I bottle up my feelings in old Ribena bottles

You bottle up yours in Gin and Whiskey bottles

One day she'll beg for the moon

Better hope its no time soon

Because next she'll want the stars

Then venus,saturn and of course mars

She'll ask for the oceans and the sea

She'll ask you will be her knight,prince,hero and all there is to be

She'll want kisses that the sun can only graze

Note,this is not just a phrase

She'll also want a journal so she can document all your love

So one day she will tie it to a balloon
And let it fly above

Are you allergic to yourself?

Do you scratch away at yourself,in the hopes that your skin would peel off?

Are you allergic to yourself?

Do you deliberately avoid pictures just so the camera won't add a few pounds and make you look?

Are you allergic to yourself?

Do you cough and wheeze whenever you suddenly remember a flaw that seems to get every ones head turning?

Are you allergic to yourself?

Do your eyes go red and puffy when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror?

Are you allergic to yourself?

Does your tongue swell whenever a good word about you tries to spill itself out?

Are you allergic to yourself?

Does everything about you,make you swell ache and bend over in pain?

Do you wish you could jump out of your own skin?

You're like toffee,
The sweetness so irresistible
but you're going to hurt yourself at some point

If you wanted
I could have given you
My eyes
So you could've seen
What I saw in
YOU

If you wanted
I could have given you my ears
So you could've heard the harp that was your voice
The way I heart it

If you wanted
I could have given you my nose
So you could've been gifted with the sharp smell of your scent
The way I smelt it

If you wanted
I could've given you my skin
So you would know how well your fingers contested with fireworks

If you wanted
I could've given you my lips
So you could know,would know how well you tasted,and you would know you were more thank just a human being
You were a gardener
Who planted every beautiful flower inside me

I'm fascinated by my ability to be useless

I'm like pluto,
Rejected.
No longer belonging with the others and their fascinating qualities.
I'm like pluto,
Rejected
Just a mistake

Poets are mad,crazy because they can speak of their lovers lips and how those lovers collar bones curve perfectly so you may drink from it.

Poets are mad,crazy because they can speak about bones and how they can dance through your skin to reveal you are weak,frail nothing but fragile memories.

Poets are mad,crazy because in a pub full of people a single leaf that may try to escape winter would catch their eye.

Poets are mad,crazy because even in their sleep words swirl and dent themselves in their minds.

Poets are mad,crazy because whenever the wind blows,whenever the lips of someone loved moves they un code them and wrap them round their lungs.

Pets are mad,crazy because they cannot breathe without a pen,or a computer calling softly to them.

Poets are mad,crazy because they can write about things they have never experienced but still they come out like coins of silver.

Poets are mad,crazy because they can write about cemeteries and how ghostly streets  can be on the 26th of december.

Poets are mad crazy,because someone mere may just see the sun as a yellow piece hovering above,but they see it as a golden orb that signifies all life and love.

Poets are mad,crazy because no matter what they go through,no matter what they lose,no matter who they meet and what they experience,words will always be their first lovers and first friends.

I used to love art
That was until my muse feel from a cliff

Most days I feel like a broken artifact
      
                        
                            Who's broken pieces

           Are scattered round an                                         A
n
c
i
e
n
t                                                            ­    
C
i
t
**y

Are you crazy?

Why can't we be like grass?
When it gets stepped on,it gets back up

Let's sit around a campfire
And condemn coffee together

It seems like whenever you struggle to look yourself in the mirror.
Whenever your skin irritates and appalls you,
You find someone who could spend a day in front of the mirror
Someone who treats their skin like a temple

Cant you see?,
When you cry a piece of The rainforest dies

We all have secrets.

But walls have thousands

He was the knife that slumbered in your back

Just skin and bones...I can almost taste that image

Just skin and bones I can see it so clear

Just skin and bones,the dream I want to attain

Just skin and bones,the woman on my wall won't look so smug now

Psychologically Anorexic

Monsters sit on rainbows
And dine in daylight
They don't pester the darker things...like we think

And so shall my presence be gone
Upon the wind and never return.

I think I'll leave hellopoetry for a while,I don't know how long for..maybe I'll just stop posting poems but I'll still hover around,or I'll completely vanish.All I know is either way it doesn't matter,my poetry won't be missed and neither will my presence.There were good times here.