I miss her long hair that always intruded the kisses we shared.

I miss her eyes that twinkled in the light as I stared into an emerald sea of hope.

I want to drown in the scent of her perfume, the same way I drowned in her love.

I miss the conversations we had, peering through the smoke where you'd try to hide your perfect smile.

I hate to admit it but I never thought goodbye meant goodbye and now - well now I just miss you and the memory of us two.

You vanished into innocence
leaving me to follow the trail
of my sins - trapping me in
the smog of white that keeps
me awake.

I could of changed if you'd
of told me but now I'll never
know as I sit perched on my
bed starring at the rope that
is destined to end my hope.

It’s that hard kind of love,
Where if it’s not measured by
the gram then I don’t know
what it’s worth.

As I stood staring at the multicoloured night sky even the booms of the display couldn’t get you off my mind - wishing you were here by my side.

I wanted to be grave of your troubles, burying the burden of the darkness you faced in me so it didn’t hide your light.

But now I lay immersed in the soil, no longer able to face this life without your light.

University taught you how to film the perfect scene but through the lense did you see us fade away so perfectly?

I know you'll return to where our
heartache was once contained.

I don't want to keep begging to
see you again because now I sit
looking at sixty pages in a book
wondering where what I once
had was lost.

Illusive to all eyes but mine and
dare do I to ponder his weaved
tales of wondrous bliss to the
unintellectual mind,
Rumour fell from lips that prey
on the herds of unified madness
without their Shepard for the
devil offered them temptation
which the Gods had failed to
fulfil without their obedience,
Quite the thrill was the uproar
and quite the performance did
their eyes devour.
For if you deconstruct the
words that spill from the
electric pink flesh then
- insanity has found you.

She lives in the creases under my eyes
because every time I stare into the night
sky I can't help but think of you,
even the blinding light scolds me
with the memory of you.

As a boy I was destined to be a doctor.
Now I go to the doctors because I’ve been doctoring homemade remedies for pain and gain?
What did I gain.
A broken heart that’s forgotten how to love, what it was to feel a beat that could trickle all the way to my feet and in defeat I found yet another broken thing.
A broken mind that’s forgotten how to stride through time, that’s forgotten how to separate you and I. See there’s things that I can’t deny - yet there’s thing that YOU quickly deny.
See I’m not a druggy.
I’ve had more ODs through everyday living than I have on a high that I’m told is not living.
Living is easier through this world of mine, I’ve met the most imaginative people of my life through conversations in a green tin that holds every whisper of what we refer to as the “Shed People’s” dreams, who know of endless tales through more hazed eyes.
I guess I can’t deny that I’m an advocate of something society rejects and that’s why you’ll always reject me.
All because I can’t deny that YOU have views that contradict mine.
What a shame that adult drugs have taken me to better worlds that are much bigger than YOU and I.

The coke is starting to ****
my brain and they
keep saying give it up
but I think it's finally
killing the pain.

Misery knows you my dear boy and you know it too,
Misery follows you my dear boy and you follow it too,
Misery fills your soul my dear boy and where would your soul wonder if misery was not your chain to the world you see?
Wonder too far into the foliage of chaos, where you fire your signal but remember my dear boy that if you are ever lost do not pull the trigger because like a grave stone becomes identity - misery is the only way they’ll find you.

long had I been dead when I first saw the beauty in nature just to be told that we threw it all away.

Long was I blind to see those who silently scream without a bed or the lady who looks her best when she’s living off bread.

How were we so blind to the compromise of being open to the exposure. The greed, the need to know basis of what greed could mean - or what it could be.

Did salvation ever mean that we’d still have to fight for the right to humanity? Humanitarian aid after a humanitarian crisis denied their right to live.

And What did the ice ever do to you? You made it melt but it wasn’t in love. There’s a difference between love and abuse.

I know you’re angry - The world is too.

Exonerated for a face no mother could love
Misconceptions and interjections of societies
misguided approach to beauty
Appearance is more than the physicalities
or the emotional travesties it causes
None of whom can ignore the plush bodies
in magazines or the hours spent looking
at hour glasses on silver screens
Smiles which gleam whilst those without
dentistry miss out on destiny
It’s not what you say, it’s what is projected
albeit subjective your standards are selective
Pavement crawlers to body bags, a failure to
understand grace runs deeper than
the vanity of man.

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...

Paint the town red you mad art critic I’m madly in love with. A fine eye for it dare I say, a lady elegance from the tip of her hair down to her untuned laugh, see she was different because I could never paint and I’d glance over as she crafted beauty late into the night realising that she was the reason for all the colours I saw in my life.

She was a true rainbow queen of the pallet and when the colours came together I fell apart.

If this was love then put me in the art store that we passed so many times to watch her paint; for nothing is more beautiful than her heart and mind that intertwine with heavens soul.

Pure white moon eyes,
Colour gravitating to black hole hearts that consumed and licked their lips.
Digest the suffering!
Exhume the pain!
Taste the galaxy!
Watch the aliens see your escape!
Inhale the stars and see the light!
Embrace the gaze of the universes empty face,
If in the bliss you find the open gates then do not let God tempt you to your fate,
Resent your faith and remind him that the sea needs you!
The moon is nothing without your gaze!
Remind him that the world is your place!
Do not venture into space with your cracked helmet dreams -
I beg you do not
For it is already a lonely race.

Never seen a painting as pretty as her,
She’s got texture to her but more importantly she’s bold and she’s courage.
You frame her to the world anonymously sharing her elegance would be far too generous, crime to humanity even I assure you.
When the sun shines on her, ****, do you sink into a *** of love feeing lucky but you only got lucky once.
Trying to restore beauty where beauty needn’t be restored.
Chipping away at her stature until you chisel too deep and she crumbles into your hands, that? That is indeed damnation.
So the painting becomes a picture, then a memory, then it just f   a   d   e    s   a     w     a      y

If I tried to make you love me over ducks feasting on bread, the finest glass bottles containing the cheapest white wine, with charity shop ventures where we thrift shopped like the cool kids, the times I’d look into your eyes and immerse myself in your soul - I suppose I got distracted.

When we fed the ducks at the duck pond overlooking that beautiful church I think back to the ripples in the water and they told a different story.

They told me you were sad and I didn’t want to believe it. They swayed together in defiance to your departure yet still you departed.

It was too late to change the tide but now when I feed the creatures at the pond you can see ripples created by drips that fall down my face.

Three sit contained in one generation with ****** eyes and hopes but only held high.

Addictive by nature when everything is nature in a life long reign of influence to commit the highest atrocities with laughter.

The eldest of us tells of his life stories, begging us to learn from his experiences as he loses three bills to a happy go-lucky machine - I call that taxable hope.

Encapsulated from the world, far too caught up in the atmosphere to want to see the stars but until then let us hunker down and find shelter in the weeds.