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"Society is cruel to make us believe we are sane, but we all secretly know that deep inside our minds, we are all insane."
I wake as your  friend                                     You wake as my lover
I speak as your lover                                       You speak as my friend
I act as your possession                                   You are my possesion
I rebel as your cover                                        A means to an end
I hurt for your compassion                             You live for my acceptance
I injure for your respect                                  Though it's never been withheld
I confide for your emotion                              You crave my direction
I give and you collect                                      Never will you rebel

This is madness                                               This is Sparta
This is insanity                                                This is the price of exellence
I can't be everything for you                          I am your everything
You can't be everything for me                     I am magnificence
You treat everyone the same                         I am fair and righteous
As a friend, yet as a lover                              And yet you seek more
And it's a cruel, cruel game                          Dare you grow capricious
From your twisted love, no one recovers     You'll become one I abhor

I am done                                                       You are confused
(I am never done)                                          And I will not calm you
I am sick                                                        As I am amused
(But I'm not tired)                                         As I drop little clues  
I will run                                                        You'l­l never leave me
(I won't run)                                                  But I'll abandon you
Because I love you                                        You'll always need me
(A better word is 'desire')                             And I'll never need you

Let me go!                                                    My grip is vice-like
(But you're not holding me)                       I'm not ready to let you go
Bring me back!                                            If I lose you, 'my dear'
(But I never left)                                          I must find yet another 'beau'
Love me only!                                             And I've not the time to put effort
(But you love equally)                               In little minions like you
Push me away!                                          I've not a care to give for
(Or bridge this rift)                                    You insects I never knew

Please, disappear                                       I am your torture
One day you'll understand                      But I am your salvation
That the twisted way you love                 I am your executioner
Could coax death from any human        And I am your redemption
Please, disappear!                                     You'll wish me dead forever
Though I'll weep when you're gone        You'll wish me dead I know
I know sanity will return                          And you'll wish yourself deader
And I'll eventually move on.                    *When away I finally go.
Sometimes you think
you are going insane
flinching from the sink
though it is most mundane.
You could swear that
you had seen
a strange shimmer,
a reflection, or a gleam.
As humans we aren't meant to comprehend truth, because of it i'm drowning

There is a boat i won't grab onto, for the boat is only for believers

The people try to pull me in, but i won't adjust so i'm only pulling them down with me

I pulled 2 people down with me, now they're gone. I'm still drowning ...

The boat doesn't even matter anymore, I drift under the sea blanket of insanity.
The game played no longer how it once was
No votes on new posts
don't check the trends
or check your own for views and comments
The substantive roaming data of broken WiFi connections
Mangle your jangling words, hide your swollen faces behind forced smiles, Rembrandt bastardisations or smeared oil paintings of the black soul(less) beasts that lurk in satiate tree shadows fawned over the lawnmower blue cycle rinse washed acid soaked daydream ***** slap nation
So you revere the works once read on poetical facsimile sites
only to smear words of younger wordsmith wrangled teen angst
and now in your age and ardor it seems advantageous to judge
But then that will leave you hollow inside
or in fact, you could jump from a tall building only to bounce off the concrete into a children's pool and drown there in three inches of **** coloured rain water
But so instead the workload decreases as your dementia bedpost nightmares
all come aflutter
The laced lily white throng of petal pinched patterns masks
the marked men on their dusty knees
There, watch how heads explode
or listen to foley artists rendering the lacquered finish of the watermelon headjuice
Make up words
or make up lies
Wear make-up daily, earn some prize
or don't
I don't care
idc
idk
Resemble rhyme or reason
Disassemble the times and season
Return to pejorative pretensions, rants in verse verse verse verse prose format and **** the rest
Or simply return to the old ways of playing the game
Upvote this, and maybe they'll take interest
Comment here
return one there
Use tags, hashtags, wash rags, fat slags, arm chair fat cats
But always separated by spaces, prettyblankspaces
No, I don't do slam poetry, I'm too white and not nearly rich enough to not care
Reassemble the times and season, maybe make sense of it
Maybe not
Just don't let them become a passing trend, please
Lonely black lab on the path behind the garages I used to sell crack
Went to the shop, brought some ****, blacked out windows on a cab
spells danger backwards that's Reg Nad
So I'm looking all around me, back at the cash grab
Where old ladies clutch black bags and wear glad rags
I'm not glad lad, '*** the world looking like rag mags
with girls selling soul on corners right now
where their daddies sag lag on the track; Baghdad
where war heroes return home back to the smack
and clap traps where they get and share the clap; sad
or when little kids run to their mummies 'cross roads all alone
to their home that used to be a home but now is a dome for the dome
so food can be put on tables that rust and break and the kids get hurt
child protective services, what's worse
I'll tell you what's worse living in a hearse
or a one berth tent on this Earth where the ones in charge
discredit your worth
or better still when they ignore your very existence
so we're standing here screaming and pleading
bleeding and scheming
because there's no food in the cupboards
quit dreaming
stop the screaming
Lousy demon fiending, feeding the sea men with *****
on seashores the sea's ****** sing hee-haw the horse of remorse
hits the veins and see more the way the see-saw zig-zags
back to the black labs on lagging black paths
behind the garages I used to sell crack
RIP Reginald Naden
Depression
Are the cards that I am dealing
  Solitaire is the game
Everything that I am feeling
  They are mostly the same

     **Trigger

Shooting off a gun
  I will try running away
Again no more fun
  I have also tried to pray

     Angel
Appearing in front of me
  Even though I thought she was gone
My insecurities flee
  I am no longer a pawn

     Love
I never thought I would find
  Someone as beautiful as this
She keeps blowing my new mind
  Then, gives me, long forgotten, bliss
I looked into the eyes of a simple sketch
And I saw the lines that I've followed and crossed.
The hand I've held and purposely missed
Is the one I've repeatedly loved and lost.

I'll hold out my hand for you and I can only
Pray that your graphite hand
Might someday take it.
I love him. I will until the end of time. I feel his hand in mine.... His fingers like ghostly kisses against my palm. He read it once. He told me I would have three children, all with my eyes. Then he whispered under his breath that they wouldn't be his.
I told him they would be, but he only hummed in disagreement. He stayed silent about it for years.

Yesterday, he held my hand just like he is right now. His fingers lingered on the calloused skin for a moment. He looked surprised, as if he recognized the feeling. I told him I loved him. I said it all of the time and I knew he felt the same, but this time he didn't say it back. He walked away.
I woke up this morning to three missed calls: one from his mother, one from the hospital, and one from our mutual best friend. I recognized what those three calls meant. I climbed out of bed and walked to the balcony outside of my three story apartment. I was about to let my tears escape when I felt his hand in mine. I suddenly realized why those three children would never be his. His fingers were ghostly as he traced the lines of my palm.
I know this isn't a poem, but I'm proud of it because I fought through my writers block to write this. A friend of mine asked for a story that he could illustrate and this is what came out.
The most **** thing about a guy has nothing to do with his clothes, hair or eye colour.

It's in the way he looks at you with longing, when you finally find out he wants you just as badly as you want him.

When he pulls you so close to him that there is literally no space between you, because he can't stand the thought of there being any.      

When he kisses you, so that it feels as if he is stealing the air from your lungs, and for those few seconds you forget what air even is.
    
When all thoughts go out the window and its just him, with you,in the most simple way possible.

Now that is the definition of ****.
Pure passion is ecstacy...
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