Tim lived at five one two
Caraway Lane with a
dog and lawn that was
hard to maintain and three
goats with no names
Two bankers came
Crisply dressed, repossessed
Caraway lane

Paul had tried every trick
through thick and thin but he
couldn’t make rent when it
went on cheap gin and he
hated the taste
Fated to waste
Downing and drowning in
Crown-clouding gin

Richard was shy with an
acne-pocked charm and a
look of sick shock as he
watched in alarm as his
paycheck ran dry
Couldn’t tell why
Money tree entropy
ended supply

Tim was quite pretty, clown
-witty and warm with flash
city-smoked glints and fresh
country-stoked draw, with his
cheekbones and jaw, and the
charm he had, strapping lad
dressed in plaid shirts he would
flirt with short skirts or a
dress or long pants, really
anything worked

Paul was quite petty, and
yet he had steady ad
-mirers in heady and heal
-y-tripped love, he was
shunned by wronged songbirds, he’d
stolen their sweet words, his
perfect pitch, descant-rich
Transcendent vocally
Elegant poetry
Angel-conferred

Richard had first-degree
Self-esteem vacancy
So, on occasion he
Self-critiqued shamefully
Good for perfectionist
standards which nurtured his
six-string-chord skilfulness
Master accompanist
Metronome rhythm-prone
strong instrumentalist

Each in a fix when a
-lone but the mix would be
known to eclipse what was
shown on the local bar
circuit you’d know if you
heard it, a joy to un
-earth it, so worth it e
-merged as the trio with
alchemy, beauty and
blasphemy, moral and
mortal-tinged humour a
-cademy, heaven-sent
harmony, rather be
here to see, them than be
anywhere actually
this is me, heavily
suddenly, readily
falling in love with three
men in one melody

I hate my emotions.
It’s like I don’t have control
over what I feel.

Sometimes,
I’m just sad
for no reason.

Sometimes,
I’m just mad
for no reason.

I wish my emotions would stop
doing what they want.

Sometimes,
I feel things
and I can’t even explain what I feel,
and it makes me sick,
like a sinking feeling
in your gut.
It’s super weird.
I hate it a lot.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Sometimes,
I’m not even thinking about anything sad,
but
I feel so horrible.

I don’t know
if there’s a medicine for this.
I’ve already been declared not bipolar,
so I guess my emotions just hate me.

F*ck Inside Out.

Like the moon
     you pull me towards
         but too soon
  you push me away.
We never touch, but
      -like ebb and flow-
         I am forever entangled with you.

After years of
Constant self-abuse
I've finally reached
My breaking point
And I don't think
Superglue will
Do this time

the wrong one
will find you in peace
and end up leaving you in pieces

only the right one
can find you in pieces
and guide you to peace