Talking just the 3 of us
Me, Myself, and I
found a cafe in my mind,
sippin lattes
killin time.

Found a common topic,
the presence of my mind.
Thought we'd try and analyse,
but thought not to waste the time.

Shootin the breeze
with all three different
me's...
Life is like a latte'
time killed,
milk spilled
and a napkin to soak up
the tears.

shower.

Small boy sitting and thinking
crouched in the shower
alone
(for now)
Deep in thought
shallow in action.
Little boy crying and
screaming inside.
As the water
relieves each sin and
conscience settles in.
Feeble boy drained and
soaked as the worries
of the day wash away.

This is no life for a soldier
a survivor of wars.
So young for an old soul
So old for a young boy.
Quiet boy who cannot help but to
hear the roar of discontent
raging from within.
Little boy scared of the familiarity
of a life lost to sorrow.
A sobbing boy drowning in sadness
wishing only to smile but alas,
alone in the shower, crouched down low
there is no show of solidarity,
only solitude.

Green pastures.
Verdant, like peas and pine.
This timid display of jealousy
of me, myself and mine.

Then crimson red
shades of fury
too wild like tulip kisses
too fluent to bury.

And blue songs
lyrical sadness
waxing my tongue
with thier tepid tune.

These colours before time
rolled into rhyme
representing each crime
committed, eyes closed.

Tonight you're black and white.

cammo

I'm swimming in blue cammo
Eyes closed
a vision within.

(Just holding each breath)

A million bubbles
trapped beneath
a sealed and silent
surface. My lips. Languid desire.
                                                  (I can feel them/behind my eyes)
Blue and black
Shades of grey                            (sweet disguise)
myriad moments
uncoloured by time                      (in blue, everything is you, disguised)

Only trapped like lime
in stone.

I cant breathe when i'm swimming in you.

Fake it till you make it

comic sigh

I'm laughing
so that each
forced smile
doesnt echo alone,
thunderous, beguiled,
each smile
a testament to
fake it till i make it.

I can lose you in this laughter.

so unprepared for
such a lack of
inspiration.
Theres nothing worse
than an
insular soul
with no cross to bear.
A voice without a message
is like a knife without a vein.

sick of your...

Every time you spit in my mouth
with your visceral vehemenence
i wonder to my wits end
Did you kiss your other lovers
with that poluted ***** mouth?
Does it make you feel bigger?
or more in control?
Does it tickle your fancy
to be taking your toll
On me and us and what could be ours.

Im sick of your words.

Your attitude
slung low on your hips
biting
deleteriously
loose from your tongue.
Tonight im not crying
just tired and perturbed
you're a tyrant to my self,
an echo disturbed.

I want to hate you for this
While i love you for the other,
but who am i to blend the boundaries of
love and hate?

and your love is the balm
you say?
that eases the pain,
keeps the demons
at bay.

I disbelieve you now
amidst this tendered rhyme,
spoiled stitch in time,
that is binding your lexis
to my tongue.

You're in my head.

and i dont like to savour
the rotted flavour
that is your shadow of doubt,
seeded so deeply in the terrain
of your self triggered drought.

Im sick of your words.