I confess to everything,
To all the lies I've told,
Pain I've caused
And happiness I stole,

I confess to everything,
All the stolen nights,
Memories ruined,
And all the good byes,

I confess to all of it,
And wasted time,
I'll take all the blame,
If it'll once again make you mine,

Hopeless nights of our lungs giving out. Last July, you promised this would all stop.

But here I am. Grasping the bed sheets wondering where you are? Do you want to be with me?

When you're alone you call me and kiss my face. I give in again.

But tonight is different the despair had won this race of lies. I'm tired of competing when I'm never gonna qualify.

The world is aging
It's years are increasing
Goodbye 2016
The year filled with
Doubts and bad choices
How can Britain exit?
How can America vote for trump?
How can Zambia re-elect Lungu?
Zuma and Rousseff are corrupt
Ali,Castro and King Adulyadej are dead
Is this not the Apocalypse of
The downfall of humanity
And good morals?
In a few days this world
Will be turning 2017 years old
On the first everybody will celebrate
But for the bad choices made
No body knows
What the year has for them
That's why I entitled
This poem untitled 2017.

We talked about
The things
I couldn't put you through.
The end of my pain,
Your genesis.
My life unknown
Unused,
Swallowed whole.
Slowly, each day —
Hell upon Hell.
Falling stars
Crashing to ground,
Cataclysm.
Friends. Lovers.
I never meant to waste away.

You'll see one day,
when you're only nineteen
and life is a liquid
in which you swim
and drink deeply of,
that life will get you drunk
and you'll sleep so soundly
and dream your golden dreams
until one day you wake up
and you'll be thirty-three.

Hungover from living
a little too quickly,
you'll think to yourself:
*what happened to me?

It's advent:
Angels invite you to
Adventures in worship in your
Annual observation in
Anticipation of the divine,
Awaiting, acclaiming the King.

The red coats are coming,
The red coats are coming
(but don't let them distract you).