He drives like a maniac
But it makes me feel alive

He lets me stand out the skylight
And the wind blows my hair
I look like a maniac

We speed down the backroads
We are isolated
But we are attached

He lets me turn the volume to 100
I scream the words to every song

He takes his eyes off the road to meet mine
He shakes his head in disapproval
But he can't help but smile when he sees me nonchalant

The crushing gravel under the truck tires
The brisk air hitting my face
The bass of the music pulsating through me

He drives like a maniac
He loses focus on the road when we kiss

He is the maniac driver
I am the maniac passenger

But we have never felt more alive

Let me introduce myself...my name is Hope.
I am no more than an illusion, an elaborate distraction...
In fact I am an  empty chalice that has yet to overflow.
A vine that bears no tangible fruit.
And yet..Yet you will make bedfellows with Hope in your  earliest years.
From the first crushing disappointment,
The pain and desolation that comes with the loss of a loved one.
And perhaps the most chilling  realisation of all.
The realisation of the horror of humanity that threatens to permeate every fibre of  being.
Awakening to the agony that is the human condition.
As with all ailments we seek to find a cure.
A way of negotiating this ugly world in which we find ourselves.
A protection..a talisman from the depravity that surrounds us.
So hope is  born....nurtured from cradle to grave by each and every one...
As without it the pain would become intolerable.
A poison that creeps until there can only be loss of reason,
A hopelessness and despair so profound that it is intolerable to bear.
Leaving only an eventual plummet into the abyss.

I follow her
On everything
To see her every thought
Always thinking of her
Never out of my mind
Sometimes it kills me
Other times it builds me up knowing,
I made you smile a laugh
But then you never loved me
You told me so many times
I love you baby
I love you too
BUT YOU NEVER MEANT IT WHY
WHY WOULD YOU LEAD ME MAKE ME FALL DEEPER FOR YOU THEN RIP MY LEGS OUT FROM UNDER ME AND DESTROY ME

The letter i sent you
The teddy bear i bought you
The necklace i gifted you
The love i gave you
My heart you sole
ripped it from my chest, stood there and watched me bleed
watched me die

There's poetry in scars.
Do not romanticise them, they do not deserve such compliments, but
There's a story there.

Often I stare at my own and I remember
What it was that drove me to put them there
What forced me to guitily indulge in my habit.

Scars fade but they never disappear.
They're a melancholy reminder of my narrative.
They are the promise of a sequel.