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Mouthpiece Jan 28
crossed off
my first death wish
from the
hundred that occupy my
kick the bucket list,
i embraced death
and will always pay more
for my
morbid fascinations
than any muscle-bound state
could possibly enforce

the pen’s my
weapon of war
and i’ve been dying
to get these words out
though these red scores
across my throat
don’t cut as deep
as the sword

knives clashed with
my shoulder blades
but i’m the only one
sending me
to an early grave

you can call it
insanity if you want to
because to be
considered sane
in schisms this insane
is an insult

got sick of
having my head turned;
i can look back
and laugh now
it’s a tragic comedy
that so many aspire to
slide away
towards obscurity

i’m dead tired
an inzombiac
under attack
from the stigma
of the quiet life

only ourselves
can stop us

you are going to die
know it
and the world will change
for the better
first draft and an attempt to break my worsening writer’s block. Suggestions on improvements would be greatly appreciated
Mouthpiece Dec 2018
i’ve neglected this site over the last year, for reasons both traumatic and proactive. but i promise you all, every last person i’ve come into contact with on hello poetry, that i admire you and care deeply about you.

certain people i’ve come to know more than others, deeper than others, more intimately than others, but i’m thankful for every last one of you, for better or worse. you have all not only given me unparalleled support, but also the confidence and belief in myself to come out of my shell about everything i’ve experienced, and the belief that my poetic endeavour were not as futile as i had thought—so much so that my first book is due to be published next year.

so, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for everything, and have a wonderful christmas and 2019.
Mouthpiece Dec 2018
there are riots in paris
but not here
we just let the people starve here
freeze here
sleep on the roadside here

the streets are burning in paris
but not here
we just hate muslims here
and blame the blacks here
it’s always the foreigner’s fault here

blood is spilt in paris
but not here
we accept the cruelty elites bestow here
we know our place here
we’ll shrug and carry on here

the people have risen in paris
but not here
and for the life of me
i couldn’t tell you why
Mouthpiece Nov 2018
have goals

one more breath
one more hour
one more night’s sleep
another day
just another week
get to payday

fall down, and repeat

go out and have fun
make one more friend
get laid
and breathe

fall down, and repeat

get busy breathing
tuck another grand away
one more holiday
a cheap weekend getaway

fall down, and repeat

read a book
read another
one more
join a club
meet a partner
holiday with them
house hunt/learn to drive/propose
buy a house/buy a car/get married

fall down, and repeat

keep breathing
and grow old
all your
ups and downs
and know
they’re natural

and know
the ultimate goal
in life
is death

and you’re dying anyway
so why skip to it?
The only person who will ever be able to help you is, ultimately, yourself. Pills only temporarily keep depression at arm’s length. The best way to get through it is to make goals, day by day.
Mouthpiece Sep 2018
obtain my prestige
smoke dimethyltryptomine
then you can @ me
People are free to dislike my work, free to hate it and free to try and destroy it, but don’t poemsplain to the poet. Don’t claim to know what I mean by ‘past self’, especially when you’ve accomplished nowhere near as much as I have on the back of not even being certain of what I’m capable of. It’s clear you have not experienced what I have by your replies, so, please, before you open your mouths, do what I did. Debate is fine, but don’t let your wholly incorrect opinions and unwarranted egos tell me what I mean. You know who you are.

To everybody else, thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart.
Mouthpiece Sep 2018
i know
there’s nothing left
at all
when you eulogise
as the whole world
took aim
and fired
millions of imaginary bullets,
one for every
human being
he was paid to ******
one for every
human being
he burned alive
he’ll never die
he’ll liver forever
haunting the halls of power
so i’ll not be
speaking ill of the dead
by celebrating
his life

i know
there’s nothing left
at all
when bush
killer in chief
is given relief
because he opposes
hot air
in word alone
whilst buying
new thrones
with the taxes he saved,
cuts that send
your core support
to their graves,
the cuts you
carve your name to
and profit from,
the bombs you vote
to buy
while you cry
about the election
you rigged
and still lost

i know
there’s nothing left
at all
when you embrace
the hawks
that have always circled you
when you serve
your corporate overlords
when you disenfranchise
half your country
and leave them destitute
when you can’t
even care for them
when they’re dying
but happily
sends them off
to their slaughter
for no other reason than
because you’re
by the profiteers
of war

there’s nothing left
at all
about you
Putting the feelers out there. The American left: wake up.
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