Men of sin are the shadows that lurk among the city lights where the signs don’t just tell you about coffee they energise you as they feast on lobe with sidewalk tales of how men have left their manners at home, drowning in pints discussing the grim details of how;
He ****** her twice only but the other night, peering with a grin because little do they know his lust was a story of latex, teeth, claw and a sharpened knife.
Smile did he as she presented herself half alive, half dead - hanging off the edge of the bed, the twisting and weaving of his stomach as he digested pure disgust and bliss all at once.

You told me that you’d stay,
it made me really cry that day,
that day that you left me.

It’s because I think too much,
sometimes I even speak too much,
I can’t say enough times how sorry
I am for losing my oh so delicate mind.

From time to time I often think back
to when the rope was round my neck
and the chair was screaming for me
to jump.
Why were you the only one screaming
for me to get down?
And the screaming,
the screaming just doesn’t stop.

The way you were feeling you wanted
to be on the other end,
I could see it in the eyes that I miss so
greatly for how will I know that it is
summer without her gaze?

When you left we built barricades
I was trying to suppress the demons
- you told me you was looking at one.

You made me question my mind as
I had so often done and I cried like
a baby torn from his mother and
where is mother?
“Dear mother please” I plead, I
plead guilty of all crimes but
insanity is not one for I was just
a boy who screamed for his mum!

So jump ship and drown for all
I care!
That’s a lie, I’m out of touch
with myself living in this
living Hell.
I can’t facilitate the hatred you’ve
made for me!
I will not accept, I will object to this
mockery of the sacrifice I made!

All lost for one now but none where
I dragged myself through pity streets
waiting for your love to come back home.

Beseech me for my war crimes, propaganda walls converse with stage lights and there was an outcry!
There was an outcry of hysteria, a deep sense of psychotic texture in the lucid air, false prophets constructed for deconstruction.
Contained genocide vacated the negative effects of emotional mind parley when the selfish sacrifices were made - the only question the gods had raised was the worth of the bodies and that nothing remained...

I’ll build you a dam,
then I’ll take you by sea so
we can escape the taunting
memories of shadowy streets
and nuclear physics arguments
over our lack of chemistry.

But now the water no longer
brushes my feet I can't help
feel that;

I hope I meet my demise soon
enough that Capaldi can play
at my funeral telling me
'don’t fade away' and I
want to see you cry,
mirroring you as the tears
fail to cling to your eyes.

For if this is purgatory
then let the maggots eat
me alive.