I am destruction.
I am the pretty flower that fought
The winter cold and lost.
Waiting on the sun that never came.
I am the destiny of all but nothing,
Foreseeing that I lost myself through
Lying naked, alone and afraid.
But in the loneliness it sparked
Despair as I discovered the concave
That occurred in my brain,
Hidden naked, alone and afraid
But finally we were combined as
Soul mates even though my soul
Was ajar only to the darkness and
In the darkness crept and I couldn’t
Fight it, it consumed me
Devoured my heart and I’m
Sorry I let it in because it is the
Destruction in which it feeds
And I was never hungry.
I lied to myself when I said
I was good, because if even
Lucifer can be portrayed as an
Angel then I must be the anarchy
That stole his mind.
For that I can never change,
I am in the depths of hell which
Structures my heart and I am the
Only demon here with no one to
Challenge but the wide-eyed look
That glares in the mirror of life.

I’ve been looking for a
more socially acceptable
way to die since you said
goodbye to you and I.

So I light my cigarette
watching the smoke cover
the sky as I continue to
reach for the light.

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.

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.

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.

He bared his heart and
soul to you.

- he was practically naked
when you tore it apart.

A serial killer but all that was slaughtered was only I - for she was the weapon, her smile the trigger for which I could never resist, it was like an addiction.

Just.
  One.
    More.
      Time.

Until finally the onslaught begins again, sparks fly igniting what was once a cold and decrepit heart, the sound piercing through the silence but then - looking onward toward the mass of bodies;

for every time she smiled or even grinned I died.

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...

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.

How do you forget someone you don’t want to forget?

So embedded in your head it’s like a tumour that lays in wake but it strikes you in your dreams, random thoughts throughout the day.

She’s bad for your mental health but that will never stop her from taking your heart away, in a vicious cycle of love and hate but you love her too much to hate.

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

Why is it that I fall in love every time?
Just for my heart strings to break
No longer to be played.
But when another tries to play them,
The tune is so crooked, yet so beautiful.
Stunning like the clarity I see in her eyes when I stare,
That mischievous look that I find myself never aware.
She knows my heart is going to be torn,
As she speaks of her availability;
Forgetting about the existence of me.
On my knees I beg that I do not lose control,
The anger flares as my tears appear.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I shouldn’t have acted out like that,
But I do not see why you kept this love a lie.
With that acknowledgement as we took out first kiss,
I remember it well, just like it was yesterday.
Because today was only our second day,
Another 336 hours of pain.
As I tuck myself away in the darkness,
Laying on thorns,
Drinking whiskey until the crack of dawn.
I take the blade,
Just one last time I say,
As the knife slowly drains my life away.
Another love gone and lost,
Oh love, why is your clarity so unclear?
Time to go through the same cycle I experience every year.

The final stage has come,
You can now be laid to rest whilst others morn,
Releasing the grasp to whom you once held;
Do you fly with the angels or do you fall?
As your existence fades,
Colours in your world disappear and others slowly fade.

Stand before God if you believe or be prepared to journey the unknown,
Fear the journey in which you take.
They say you dream when you die,
Maybe we dream forever of what we once had,
Now lost but as we fade our memories stay.

As you remind yourself that if Heaven does exist,
You will be united with your loved ones soon,
But until then you rest in peace,
As the stone engraves.

When I think back to the times
to close for comfort in homemade
camouflage that hides my sign that
reads;
“This man is not okay!”
I wonder if she nods her head in
agreement and agrees that yes;
“This man is not okay!”,
and yes this man cried
and yes this man wanted to die
and yes this man questioned
if living without you was to die.
We were both adamant for a ride
or die but our whirlwind was a ride
and cry,
Sin city wanted us both for cruel strict
living and forgetting how to love talking
about the apocalypse and then realising
it was our love.
Oh my love,
The best of my hearts friends,
***** dancing queen would you ever
come home to dance with me?
Smiling dancing girl with her
heart melting defiant grin running
with the rhythm but I don’t trust
dancers,
I don’t know how to dance and I
don’t dance with what I don’t know
so substance misuse makes me feel
the move but no one’s here to move
with because you tempted fate until
you discovered oblivion.

I never wanted her to change
she just wanted to ride the wave
but with my mental health I'd
forgotten how to swim and
drowned somewhere along
the way.

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.

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.

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.

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.

My therapist asked me who am I?
And I looked at my mother and
asked her who she wanted me to be;
She said she wanted a son that didn’t
sniff ******* in his dreams.
And she looked at my sister and said
“What does your brother mean?”
And she said;
“All he illuminates is exactly what a
human being shouldn’t be.”
And she looked to his grandmother
and asked;
“What kind of grandson is he?”
And she said;
“The kind that gets lost on the streets.”
And she looked at his grandfather and
asked if he agreed.
He nodded but pleaded that there’s no
way to save someone like me.
And they looked to his current
lover and asked;
“What kind of person is he?”
And she replied;
“The type of person that screams in
his sleep, the kind of person you wish
your daughter wouldn’t meet, the type
of person who’s married to overthinking
and can’t marry me.
He is the definition of deceit and you’ll
often find him by the sea threatening to
jump in because he thinks the fish will
actually care about his dreams.”

And silence filled the room.

And they all asked;
“What kind of person do you think you
could be?”
And the black sheep looked at his
shepard’s and said;
“Whoever you want me to be.”

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

Her heart dripped through my hands like liquid gold and I looked down in the molton puddle to find the girl I fell in the love with then down at my hands to see the reminiscence of what I had lost.

What the future holds
is in my hands.

Just a few words penned
by a broken man,
lost in translation so that
only she understands -
Why I’m taking my life
by my own hands

Oh Hazelwood,
Hazelwood beseech me to
come home for I've become
a lonely soul wondering
alone with a shaven head.
Not my idea, no, not my
own. The man pleaded for
you to never leave him on
his own.
He's disassociated but he's
never believed it with his
backpack dreams and
time in blackhole love.
Met you and he found a
different kind of love..oh
Hazelwood please come home.
Home was sometimes A&E,
seemed to me that you were
getting pretty tired of it.
I could see. We all could.
Too scared to admit it incase
you'd leave us like our sand-
paper carpet meetings where
I felt the friction of your grief.
And bless your brave soul to
be able to live with the many
people I've become. But I dare
you ask! Ask anyone. You're
the only one they'd say they
loved.

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.

Pain was but a memoir of our tragically beautiful
existence that twisted through my inability to
release you from the atoms that defined the
depleting existence of myself.

Desensitized to the brutality of my impotence
to love you to the magnitude that should of quaked
your heart that instead drove you back to the
other distant figure that dismembered it.

Intoxicated with lust, I thought the potion was
satisfactory to act as the restorative,
saving us from the noose of a dysfunctional
relationship back to the cotton sheets where
we’d observe the springs delirium.

See I was callous and you were compassionate in
my incursion to purge your individuality in a
sinister plot over my own absence of esteem,
lost in my destined oblivion somewhere between
birth and a loathsome existence.

An addictive nature was never defining in my
persona until you made me identifiable by
the smell of tobacco, coffee and the
reeking obsession I never lost for you -
ambushed by the tears that flooded our
farewell as I failed to guide my sobbing heart
through the cataract that glazed your
‘I love you too’.

Someone tell me how do we run from this place?
How do we run?
Where could we go?

Maybe we could go to Mexico but speak Portuguese so they leave us alone,
But we can’t use the tickets as we’ve used them for roach as we approached the petrol station to see who remembers how to feel the most.

But then again,
I hate to think that;
Maybe we shouldn’t run.
Maybe we can’t be free.
Maybe your our freedom is when there is no we,
And no me.

You would sit perched in a baggy jumper, wrapped
up in the heartache that my eyes had failed to indulge.
For you were the summer that faded into the winter
cold where I found myself broken, lost, searching
for the pieces you left behind as I tried to rebuild a
broken love lost in the heartbreak that occurred
before its time.

Coping through inhaling the cigarette smoke
then exhaling the life from my existence peering
over to see that your silhouette had burned into
the hallucinations that echo a series of
symphonies telling the tale of how we were
thieves to nothing but one another.

"When you pinch yourself do you still feel?"

A moment of silence, a pause.

I look up but it's empty, just like the void in my soul. I'm not old but everyone's dead, I'm not gold but everyone knows me and still I hear the screams and the cries whilst I twist and turn at night, my name spread like plague but no one got infected, only I.

There's no cure.

I'd be a fool to ignore who I've become. I left Promises broken, friendships torn open, relationships unspoken but it's getting so loud even silence makes a sound.

I mean - if there is a God, does he judge me? Does he look down questioning how anybody can love me because I'd agree that I feel the same, this life is something I've made.

Mum said she can see me in you
Surely it must be different views;
See when I think of you I don’t see
the similarities that make me
anything like you.
The hospital told me you staggered
when you walked in and had to be
turned away, you missed the first
time the light hit my eyes yet tell me
that the future can change..
Maybe we could go camping dad?
Maybe you could sleep next to me
on the streets that you’ve destined
for me and you could find excuses
for why you were drunk yesterday
like I have to when I come in from
a long day.
We couldn’t camp though could we
Dad? She doesn’t let you out.
You’re dangerous outside the house,
addicted to flashing lights and liquid
life.
It’s blinding when you can’t see the
view, you’re losing me just as much
as I am losing you.
Do the maths and tell me how did it
equate to that?
When one could of become two but
instead you looked out for you.

He lay strangled by wires yet
they help him breathe into the
world that no longer has him
immersed in a lonesome and
broken reality.

For the first time he was surrounded
by family he found himself deep in
slumber so deep that he couldn’t
even see the tears that fell to paint
the picture of his journey as her
stream created a scene of a broken
man caught in a broken body with
a broken family who care not that
he is braking away from the tree.

The room flashing red, green
and yellow as the neon youth
watched over him hoping for
his eyes to burst open into a
watery welcome as the dam
bursts creating an acceptable
need for affection.

And all this happened peering
through the locks of grey that
stood before me strong and
broken with sweat from her
brow running down to rejoice
with the tears that fell from
her eyes as I stared into the
reflection of lost hope as his
heart rate jumped in anticipation
of the unknown.

They stare at the man on the pavement,
As he begs for their kindness but,
Their judgement has already been made as they stare at him,
Their breath full of hatred, sorrow is but an unknown emotion.
His story not known and his speech,
Never heard because it never began.
We cannot be blamed,
For we the people do no wrong,
It is those who look down upon us who cause this corrupt hell,
We are not responsible,
The weight is never held on our shoulders because,
We cannot hold such weight;
Otherwise our spines will crumble to dust.
We judge because we do not know,
Our brain feasts on false information,
Yet we ourselves do not understand,
We the people,
Define judgement.

No I’ve never been religious -
But that doesn’t stop me praying for you.

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.

You acted as though I was playing with
your emotions where emotions run thin
Yet I can’t remember the last time I didn’t
            sit with a sore nose or bloodshot eyes
The alcohol is helping me cope with life but
life is getting in the way of the only positive substance
They call it a bad road acting as if I’m walking
ignoring the signs but the avenue I walk down
just gives me signs of life
            without the signs of life
Maybe I’m a fool to love or maybe I’m part of a
generation that get their kick out of the flakes that
fall from the nose that follows the scent of hope
Living behind a screen where no one brings
flowers but instead encrypt a ‘rest in peace’
to pretend they care in the moment yet
only know you behind a name on a page
            that shows the drought of when you were forgotten
I used to swim in the ocean but now I drown
in low self esteem with no direction other than
when the music fills the club where if you aren’t
drinking then you find yourself intoxicated by a life
that isn’t worth a second look so you try to write
a book to show people the pain but it’s just
            capitalism for the unsavoury brain of a generation
            that wait on death and even then you can’t escape
            because you’re told to choose between good and evil
            and you haven’t necessarily been good or evil
                        you’ve just been - well, you
            So you sit on your throne of lies and bring
            the polish with you to the gates so that
            you are no longer afraid when it gets
            to your time but be afraid of the time
                        because the longer you live the more you die.

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.

I love you beyond what my language is capable of constructing.
I hate you beyond what I thought was possible.

You are my obsession, my thoughts crave every possibility of you.
You are my addiction, I wish my eyes could see the world without you.

You'll never understand how you defy the meaning of perfection.
**You'll never understand how losing you was like oblivion before my eyes.

Trapped amongst the shelter of the forests beautiful sombre. The vivid light broke through, to which I gazed upon the new world. The one that you said would save your tiring soul from the nightmarish creature that was me.

I remember under your hushed breath in whispered dreams, you said;  
                
"The birds fly higher in New England, their songs
make the trees weep in the sweetest agony."

Helpless. Obsessed. I confined your beauty - sightless to the endearment that dwindled every time you drowned in the ocean of my gaze.

Until one day, an ache.

A scar to reminisce where your love was once, as you drifted toward New England.

Strolling through the darkness that concaves my heart, now lies a graveyard in elegant memoriam to what has been lost; A beautifully dim landscape that cascades into the distance and yet I find only an abundance of stone delicately carving my name because if only I could live another day instead of dying again.

It was looking through the barrel of a gun that made me realise that even oblivion sparks before it ignites, the bitter sweet symphony of your voice echoed from the other side and so elegant it was that even the reckless hell in my mind had fallen into sombre;

In the silence an angel seen for the first time through my god forsaken and forgotten eyes that my heart could not deny - I had broken free from oblivion.

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.

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.

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

I’m a deranged sociopathic psychopath with bipolar disorder because my life consists of completely disorganised order in a disorientated mind that knows about oxygen but doesn’t stop to breathe because it drowns in air that keeps inhaling the life out of me with every beat of my unforgiving heart that bows to the mercy of my unprecedented inability to feel my own soul that has a lack of appreciation for my unwanted body that was found in the lost and found nest of a womb that grew a creature with no sight because it only housed oblivion with a warm welcome to the inferno of the blinding light that appreciated death before death as it was deaf to the encumbered pink flesh of a shattered process in the concept of thinking through no mind of my own as I don’t belong I simply exist but existence is unobtainable.

"You haven't changed" are the words I had on my mind, hanging on the tip of my tongue but I didn't voice it because I knew you'd lie and say nor have I.

I've changed in ways I never imagined, I can't bare to look at myself now because when I see my reflection, there's someone looking back at me that I don't know.

There's no hope for a fresh start and the times we had were over fast but still I reminisce in a time I often wished had lasted.

No truly you haven't changed you still have that breathtakingly beautiful face, your soul still breathes virtue, your personality is still what every girl strives to be.

Perfection doesn't ever come close to what you are, but I'm glad I'm no longer the reason for your scars. I miss you just as much as I want to kiss you again just like I did in the past, when you were my first kiss, true love and we were discussing having kids.

I wasn't perfect and I let you down a lot, but understand that you once believed perfection is what I was. Unfortunately I was not who you expected I was, and still I wish I had stopped making you cry when I was meant to be your shoulder to cry on. I hated being the reason that we needed to stop feeling what we felt because I still cry a lot.

We talk in whispered tongues, about seven words a month but you don't know how much I wish it was the three that we used to say to each other a lot.

I don't know what this is a poem, a story, I don't know it doesn't really rhyme and the words I use are basic but honestly I need to get this off my chest.

I love you still and have never stopped, it's just a shame that everything is lost.

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.

I discovered her through the shallow eyes of my oblivion, a time where the end encroached upon my bitter surrender but my fall led to my enthral into the eyes of hope.

She was the beacon of light and I, well I was a lost soul forever wondering ever so close to the edge.  Her hand reaching for mine, as I reached back in the hope that I would no longer be immersed in suffering.

Their hatred sharper
Than the blade of my knife
Yet still they chose to ignore
The fact that they’re destroying me,
Situating me into oblivion.

Yet they expect forgiveness,
Whilst they reminisce
In the tragedy
They created for me.

I try to erase the events,
But blood is not lead
So I continue to scribe
Bold statements of pain,
Yet still they ignore.

They ignore
But do they adore
Seeing me shatter,
Breaking me into desolation
With no hope of revaluation,
No longer - can I be saved.

No need for a burial
Because I already weep
A watery grave.
But I ask,
Who is the weaker man?
Is it he who dies by his own hand,
Or they who abolish
The little hope that man had left.

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.