Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
20.6k · Aug 2015
Humankind
Mouthpiece Aug 2015
We're just ***** and confused,
Misunderstood and misused,
Sometimes boring and easily amused,
And craving a love like too much *****.
Think about the last line.
11.0k · Jun 2018
die later
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
constellations
and their
covalent bonds
are the foundations
i’m built on

the galaxy is full
of my twinkling
molecular compounds

and i circumnavigate both

they’re one in the same,
the universe
my nerves and my veins

and i will die later,
my dilator;
i look forward to seeing
my past self
there with you again
Thank you to everybody for making this piece be selected for the Daily! I’m always grateful that my poems are even acknowledged by one or two people, let alone by you so many of you.

I’ve also some very, very exciting news. And I guess this place is to break it, since here is where it all started. I’ve been working on an anthology, which includes poems on here and some previously unreleased material I’ve been writing on! It’s due to be completely by the end of the year, and, hopefully, be on shelves very shortly! Keep your eyes open, loves, and thank you all again ❤️.

As for the poem itself, here is some info:

Every single person on the planet know about N,N Dimethyltryptomine. Everybody, without exception. Thousands of people who have taken it experience the exact same high: bright colours, the sensation of the souls being ejected, and then meeting the most omnipotent, loving, wise entities, and they all report that they know that place, that other dimension, better than this plain insofar as to say that that spiritual realm is the real reality. We have lost our way with spirituality; people are of either juxtaposed school of though: science or religion. Organised religion cannot solve the problems the world faces; science is lonely and cold. Spirituality is sublation of the two. Please, research it and try it. It will change your life.
8.3k · Sep 2015
Dear Soulmate
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
You have probably been flushed down the lavatory,
Before you had the opportunity to love me.
For that reason alone, you should consider yourself lucky.
Slitting the throat of all things considered fate, destiny, and so on. You can fall in love with anybody, and you can become anything.
7.8k · Dec 2016
Smoke
Mouthpiece Dec 2016
Linger here
Cling to me
Flow in the dim
Evening light
Ghostly blue
Help me breathe
Encircle me
For the night

Subtle notes
Thick as ink
**** me softly
At my lips
My fingertips
Whispering
These ***** words
At your hips

I am yours
You are mine
Every kiss
Pulls the sky
The fire burns
And you rise
Slowly recline
Watch me die
A poem for somebody who has deserved one longer than anybody else I've ever known.
I've told the person I wrote this poem for and about that it is enjoyed by many!
7.0k · Sep 2015
Rough Around the Edges
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
We are all capable
Of destroying lives;
But we're just as able
To help dry running eyes.

Today it matters more
About avatar likes,
Than protecting the world's poor--
Humans and animals alike.

Still, I am filled with hope,
That we as living beings,
Can run back up the *****,
To universal wellbeing.

And if she only loves you for
The name on your underwear,
Then my friend, you deserve more,
As she clearly doesn't care.

And if he can only see
The beauty of your outside,
He is incredibly weak,
'Cause without the brain, the eyes are blind.

I have faith, regardless,
That eventually the bombs will stop falling;
Of course, we're a little rough around the edges,
But we are all filled with feeling.
Let's talk about humanity for a second: we are paradoxical. We strive for peace, but find new ways to **** one another. We all grieve and love, yet we expect one another to act like robots, as it's more comfortable to be around. We have a need to look good in front of the world, which takes priority for the stuff that really matters. Our body's turn to food for our posterity, but the legacy of each of us lives on until somebody speaks your name for the last time (sorry people with uncommon names). I, even if I do it alone, intend to change that. We are going backwards. I watch people cry when they get some phone or clothes they've always wanted, but their eyelids don't flinch when they see children dying, washed up on a beach for instance. It's wrong, terribly wrong, and something ought to be done about it. The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.
5.0k · Jul 2018
the system
Mouthpiece Jul 2018
i tell myself
i’m not Your
prisoner
anymore,

my chains are Golden
so i must be free

surely

all the money in the world
will never buy me



that is
until
i think of how You’d
kiss me,
until You show me how
You’re all around
yet nowhere,
and there’s never any
escaping Your
vulturous capitalisation
Your invasive marketing
Your pseudosentimental
sensationalism
the beautiful
indoctrination of Your
talking head
the only one
we both want me to see

we both want me to think
i can **** the system
and i keep hoping i can
but You know
i never will

it’s ambivalent
but i only love You
because You tell me to
and i don’t know any better

i am surrendered
rendered legally tender
caratless

there’s no escaping
You,
You
the one i’d
blindly follow,
fall off this Earth
face first,
blindly stay
and never leave,
blindly believe
Your cancerous
Yellow ribbons
over my own
convictions
First draft. Don’t know how I feel.
3.9k · Oct 2015
Heroine
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
Here I am, just trying to help,
A heroine hidden in plain sight;
Living life, just like everybody else,
Doing what I can to set things right.

I am bought by my lover;
To his child, I am his mother;
But he and his friends turn to Her again,
Passing Her from one hand to another.

Here I am, just trying to help,
With adrenaline, needles, and gloves;
Living life, just like everybody else,
Saving those that overdose on love.

I sit at home as shots are fired;
My duties as a girlfriend have retired.
She makes him melt withdrawing blood, in ways I never could--
In ways I am forced to admire.

Here I am, just trying to help,
Raising a child not two years old;
Living life, just like everybody else,
As my world around me is stolen and sold.

This shower's searing, yet I'm cold;
By my lover I am sold,
For a little bag containing some ****,
To a man to whom I cannot mold.

Here I am, just trying to help,
With pistols to my head;
Living life, just like everybody else,
Aiding strangers that resemble the dead.

We must flee--my child and me,
For our lives and our safety.
Paid in **** by cartels, my lover now digs tunnels;
Please refrain with your pity.*

There she is, just trying to help;
A heroine hidden in plain sight;
Living life, just like everybody else,
Turning the darkest rooms to light.
This story is true. I met a woman on an app called Whisper, where strangers post things annoymously. She is from Buffalo, New York. We formed a friendship, and have since become very close. She then told me the most incredible story. I've never known of anything so dark in all of my life. It's a true story, about her relationship with a ****** addict, and all of the things he put her through. She has reach levels of beautify I had no idea existed--never mind a human achieving. She has a place in my life forever.
If you would like to, please show your support for this wonderful woman. She is doing a brilliant job raising her son, and I want her to know how much the world admires her courage to, not only to make it out the other side of what she lived through, but to say--and I quote--'I'm just living life, just like everybody else'.
Please show your support however you see fit; I want the world to know her story, and how much they admire her for going through this. I'm send her every message in support for her that I get.
3.6k · Sep 2015
Survival of the Thickest
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
One must not:
Show any interest in things that affect us all;
Differ from buying clothes with fancy badges and names--not from market stalls;
Reject the individually human for the socially accepted norms;
Spare no thoughts to ponder variations of human form.

One must also:
Refuse to extend consideration to things other than superficial qualities;
Leave the room at the first mention of subjects containing words like 'policy';
Take into consideration only that which can be seen on the body;
Have a maximum of five thousand badly-spelt words in your vocabulary.

One should:
Spread gossip like wildfire and believe everything that you hear;
Question nothing whatsoever--regardless of how farfetched or *****;
Be cautious of those that differ from you; they probably don't belong here;
Complain about the rut you're in while repeatedly wasting money on ***** shots and beer.

One should also:
Fall in love with the outside; a human with beautiful insides is dangerous;
Believe every single little detail the people on the TV tell us;
Read nothing but stories of the rich and famous and the latest celebrity breakups;
Strive for Nothing; be content with what you have until you erode into dust.

This is a survival guide to help you live in the real world. It could save your life; you'll never be humiliated on social media ever again. You'll live life without a care in the world. Emotional death is nothing. The soul doesn't exist. We are what we see. That is all.
I genuinely see humanity ending up exactly like this. It's a horrid feeling.
2.2k · Oct 2015
Headphones
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
This bus ride to work
Is terribly slow;
The traffic is loud,
And it fails to flow.
How could I forget
To bring my headphones?
Passengers talk;
'Round and 'round they go.

I'm conscious of every exhale;
The life it consists of so very frail:
Just like a speak of warm that brings relief,
Like a fleck of fire amidst a gale,
Which I elect to dismiss in disbelief,
And instead stay on the trail
That insists on breaking me;
But I'm homeless and have nowhere to be.

Through trees and bridges I have to bow;
My thighs and knees keep me upright somehow;
I'm stronger than I originally thought.
No longer am I no longer allowed.
To conquer this I have battled and fought,
Needs me alone and not a crowd.
Nearly free, there's the darkness into which I bought;
I breathe: don't give up after the distance you've walked.


This bus ride to work
Is terribly slow;
The traffic is loud,
And it fails to flow.
How could I forget
To bring my headphones?
Passengers talk;
'Round and 'round they go.

Here is the collection of pain,
Made of this and that--it's all the same;
It's completeness is menacing,
But the darkness I know is not the endgame.
This mess of love and hate is trembling.
My fists clench; there's a fire roaring through my veins.
Now there's a flurry of punches and I scream!
Into thin air it disappears,
and I awaken as if from a dream.

This bus ride to work
Is terribly slow;
The traffic is loud,
And it fails to flow.
But luckily
I forgot my headphones.
Passengers talk,
And they'll never know.
We would rather face eternity in a holocaust than a single moment with just ourselves. Never distract yourself from the fight. Never give up.
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Betrayal: is it really a necessity of life?
Are children born with that desire entwined with their bones?
There's a bullseye on my back--a target for the knife,
And the names that are called hurt more than sticks and stones.
Words carry powers much stronger than all might;
When used correctly, they can push people into their tombs--
Like when you 'fell for me'; well, that's what you chose to write,
Willing me on whilst **** ran down the legs of your costume.
I have wanted to say this for a long time. My life is a long succession of waving people goodbye, as, despite what they tell me, they always hurt me and disappear in the end; friends, family, supposed lovers--everybody. I don't understand why it happens, and I feel ******, hence the title.
2.2k · Sep 2015
Anna
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Anna,
Confusion has been rife of late;
I'm hanging on to the **** end of the stick,
When it's not the time or the place,
As if my life depends on it.

Anna,
I can see the remains of love
Running black rivers down the length of your face,
So let me give you a shove;
We haven't got the time to waste.

Anna,
Reveal all your secrets and weep;
I know of the dirt that hides under your nails;
I promise I'll laugh if all else fails
Because my life is equally bleak.

Anna,
Moths run rampant in my underwear,
And the working-class lifestyle isn't for me;
But with you, I learned to love poverty
Whilst kidding myself into believing you were there.

Anna,
I've drained enough fluid from my soul
To care not if you break the skin from time to time;
Because I write about you using my blood, you know.
Every single poem I've written about love (despite the obviously obsolete), have been about this girl. She's the one who breaks me, makes me, and generally ruins my life in the best way possible.
2.1k · Dec 2015
Things Don't Add Up
Mouthpiece Dec 2015
Maybe I see things
A little differently,
But I feel that we're
Not living as we ought to be;
Teens wanting to starve themselves
To look beautiful,
Accepting anorexia
Because television tells them to;
While at the same time
Entire continents starve,
As others eat too much
And have problems with their hearts.
I mean, don't we all
Bleed the same blood?
Things need to change; but for now,
Things don't add up.

Still, things seem different
From what I was promised as a kid;
Not once did I think
We'd let some die and let some live;
Or that the police
Could not be trusted;
They oppress the poorest
And call it justice;
And the politicians
That we vote for
Dine with arms dealers
Then send the youth to war.
Do they really
Represent us?
It's clear to me
Things don't add up.

And all these differences
Only ever lead to hate,
From sub-cultures
To even nations and race;
We're all made of
The same genetic make up;
So why are men more equal
Than the women that make us?
We've been to the moon,
But on earth we need to change,
Before we divide too much
And are all left estranged.
Maths is man-made;
So if things don't add up,
We must make them,
Because enough is enough.
Real talk
2.0k · Sep 2017
People
Mouthpiece Sep 2017
The people you let
Walk over you will complain
You're not flat enough
Don't let them
2.0k · Oct 2015
Footprints in the Sand
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
Life's a beach
And then you die;
Your privacy's breached,
But you've nothing to hide.
Their argument's weak
And you still take their side.
Why is it that each
Time they further occupy
Our lives, there's not a peep--
No matter how humongous the lie?
Instead we continue to sleep-
Walk and push revolution aside.
If you care not for secrets to keep,
Don't open your mouth wide;
'Cause you can't have freedom of speech
With nothing to say. Open your eyes.

Where the **** is all the fuss?
They keep track of every detail
And continue to follow us
Around; our footprints leave trails
To every part of us, ranging from our hate and ****;
Every letter in every email;
Every phone call to loved ones and people of trust.
Our whole lives are on sale.
Where the **** is the anger and disgust?
They feel every spot like the blind feel Braille.
Shouldn't we be kicking up dust
Until there's no record or tales
Of our privacy? We must readjust;
We're crawling at a snail's
Pace while they grow more robust.
Ever heard of how Winston and Julia failed?
This piece is about the establishment monitoring everything we do. Personally, I find it horrifying that I can't have some of my deepest and most profound moments with people I love kept between the involved parties. I never signed up to be on the governments TV, so why should I accept the force to do so that's put on me?
Also, I'm sorry for posting pieces that I consider ****; I'm truggling with a heavy block at the moment.
2.0k · Jun 2018
blindfolds
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
keep secret
the crimson wakes
illicitly
ebbed on your
surfaces
screaming out
against
your steaming sands
when you’re bound
in twitching chains
helpless,
surrendered
drenched in the dead night
blindfolded
and gagged
and choking in
my bare hands
with a wide smile

we can’t speak of
your rattling bones
our scorched friction
and our guttural
undertones
carved into you
with my teeth,
cutting into you
like my embedded fingerprints do,
pulled out
by my mouth,
forced out
by my invasion

we **** like
endangered animals
goners
in our own
private
dimmed corner
dogged and primal
shrouded in
evaporating sweat
and salivating libidos
with which we’ll
paint your room

nobody can ever know
how we cast shadows
on your cave
we take it
bound and crushed
to the grave
love is only ever blind by choice, not by nature. love is blindfolded. anything that doesn't fit perfectly into our own tiny little ideal box is dismissed as worthless. it must end.

will probably end up rewriting this.
1.9k · May 2016
Looking Directly at the Sun
Mouthpiece May 2016
To live is to suffer
The burden of being;
To survive is to find
Meaning in suffering,
Through the right-wing,
Their friends in marketing,
No answers as to why CEOs'
Salaries have never froze.

Business bosses
Tell us what the news is.
It's the truth when
It raises profits.

Sweat shops in China
Installing suicide nets.
Where shall we spray
Our insecticide next?
They read your texts,
Prop up Goldman Sachs,
Using your money
As your children go hungry.

Show your love for Israel
Palestinian genocide is real.
Listen to the lobbyists:
The banks are too big to fail.

Dead Peasant policies;
Syphilis experiments in Tuskegee;
The people of Puerto Rico
Got cancer from Cornelius Rhoads;
IBM's profit motive
Never stopped at Auschwitz;
Privatised rain in Bolivia;
Mind games and MK Ultra;
The U.S backed Pinochet
And the death squads of Chile.

Looking directly at the sun
Hurts, but it must be done.
This is a protest piece about a lot of western beliefs about the private ownership of everything, the beliefs of out-and-out capitalism, the love of money and the want of every ******* penny one can get their hands on, the support of dictatorships and abuse of human rights to benefit one's interests. I'm ******* sick of the way I'm not represented by elected officials, the way billions languish in absolute destitution whilst a handful of people get everything, and an overwhelming amount of people acquiesce because 1) they don't want to know about it 2) they're not interested 3) they can't be bothered reading about this kind of thing. When they're done with them, the fellow sentient beings of this planet, your brothers and sisters, your mom, the people that make your clothes and phones, the people that could save your life one day, they'll come for you. I'm not another crackpot from the Internet; the above is bona fide fact. If you have any questions at all about the subjects mentioned, ask me, and I'm happy to answer them. The world needs a change. People need a better living. The world needs a better, more informed people. Up the proletariat, up the left, and long live Bernie Sanders and Jeremy Corbyn.
1.9k · Jun 2018
your dog
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
it’s summer
and i’m
waiting for you
in your locked car
parched, dry,
ready to die
alone,
waiting for you
to return,
to throw me
your bones;
i’ll never learn
if i don’t want to—
i’ll still wait for you
ragged, tail-wagged
calmly being cooked
by the yellowy sunbeams.

there’s no place
i’d rather be
True love is choosing not to exist without, even if unrequited.
1.7k · Oct 2015
Masquerade
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
So this is what freedom is:
A pseudonym to hide behind;
A fake identity used to mask
The realness you don't want the world to find;
And with this entity,
You can unwind and at last recline.
So this is what freedom is:
A distraction and a lie.

Love is a chemical
Emitted by the brain,
That somehow or other,
Causes absolute change--
Be it at first sight,
Or at the other end of the gauge;
Love is a play, an oddity
That we wish would stay.

Our time on this planet
Is not a night at the ball;
The paving stones beneath us
Are not one big dancefloor;
Keep spinning around--
Sooner or later you'll fall;
And no matter how great the performance,
There is no encore.

To acknowledge your pain,
Is to lay it to waste;
You can't repair all your cracks
Using a thin layer of paint.
To know of your faults
Defies this culture of copy and paste;
And it's a beautiful thing
That we are not a *** ***** with a face.
People need to stop being scared of showing the world what they really are. People need to stop pretending to be something they're not. People need to stop trying to impress. People need to fall in love with one another because of who they are--not how they appear to be.
1.7k · Sep 2018
lost angeles
Mouthpiece Sep 2018
i know
there’s nothing left
at all
when you eulogise
mccain
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
bought
by the profiteers
of war

there’s nothing left
at all
about you
Putting the feelers out there. The American left: wake up.
1.6k · May 2015
Homo Homini Lupus
Mouthpiece May 2015
If you want to get by,
Sonny, you had better lie
And steal; then you must hide
Any bit of wealth you find,
'Cause the taxman is sly.
When you pay him, people die;
They starve or they get fried
By the bombs that you and I
Must pay for, in the times
Of peace and war, 'cause of snide
And narcissistic pride
Festering in western eyes.
Leave compassion behind,
Sonny -- and dare not ponder why.
All you need to know is the sty
Of life, and childrens' cries,
On lowlands or mountains high,
Clean or covered in flies,
Is made this way -- it's designed.
The powers kept us blind
By prayer, and ****** with rye
And whiskey. On both sides
They stand, with the tanks they drive,
In the suits they can buy.
So, Sonny, please do not try,
Because they'll take your life --
Like they do everything else.
So tomorrow, Britain will meet its fate. So why not but the truth about politics simply and share it with the masses? A little satire never did any harm, but my goal in life is to write a poem which gets me arrested.
1.6k · Mar 2016
Where to Draw the Line
Mouthpiece Mar 2016
When I was a kid, I had freckles scattered on my face and platinum-blonde hair;
It was so fair that it looked like my eyebrows weren't there.
I would wiggle them, girls would run away, and I would promptly give chase,
Running as fast as I could across the yard to try and kiss them,
Or fall down into rocks and twigs;

I'd take that in my stride like the names kids used to call me:
Freckle-burger, ****.
Those were the days, filled with innocence; but lately,
I've come to know that those were the days that made me.
Maybe that's why I'm terrified of losing my hair?
I know what it's like to have skin bare, uncovering parts of me I was forced to share.
I look back and laugh from time to time,
Because I was lucky.

Thousands of children walk to school every day,
And with every step forward they wished it was another way;
A place where names didn't exist,
Where who they are isn't determined by somebody else's lips.
But they must go;
They must hope they can fight off the tears until they get home,
And pray that nobody ever knows that they're in bits,
Cut up by the chattering teeth of popular kids,
An believing that they'll never know what love is.

Jessica was a girl I'd known since we were three.
She grew up on the next street
And we would walk to school together.
Despite the birdsong flowing on a summer's breeze
Or when leaves replaced the exposed branches of suburb trees
We hated it. She did more than me.

The brick of her house had fallen down
And news spread for miles around that her father vanished.
Kids used to say he left because she was an **** *****,
And they'd make barking sounds as they stumbled around
Because they knew her mother was a drunk.
Little did they know about the depths to which the words sunk.
She hid it well,
Never choosing to tell in case the rumours
About her dog food breath were true.
They were never true.

One night, she handed me an envelope which said
'Do not open until tomorrow'.

I walked to school alone that day;
I faced it on my own, and when I got back home,
I headed straight for the note, which read:

'I wish I had s canvas and could re-arrange the alphabet,
But I can't; I don't have the the strength in me.
I'm trying to hold up a cascading sky that the kids in school are jumping on.
I wish I was one of the cool kids. I wish I was beautiful, but I'm not.
I'm a smudged ink spot on a blank page;
I'm just a jester on a stage forced to entertain.
I'm tired. The drugs don't work; they make me worse. And I'm struggling
To find a way out. I'm struggling to say enough is enough and to find a place to draw a line.
Nobody knows where to draw the line.
But I'll have to take a guess.'

The line was vertical, set deep into both her wrists.
She killed her self the night before to try and escape the kids.
She was sixteen,
A victim,
And now just another statistic.
My experience with bullying was fleeting, but it has a longevity. People just need to be nice to each other
1.6k · Mar 2015
Picturing Your Stupid Face
Mouthpiece Mar 2015
Inside a nightclub, in the middle of town,
You brought me down as we drowned
Our sorrows away, until the breaking of day;
Surely you knew the intentions I refused to state;
But you told me nothing at all,
Oh you told me nothing at all.

Do you remember what you said
All those ****** months ago?


Your shoulders shrug, I foresaw oncoming frowns;
You took your crown and threw it down,
And you could not wait anymore to emancipate
Yourself from me; oh how I wish in my head you stayed,
But you left me with no hope at all,
Oh you left me with no hope at all.

Now all I can picture is your ****** face,
And how it's made me dig my grave,
Because you couldn't wait to emancipate,
And I'm still stuck in this stagnant state, I'm still stuck in this stagnant state, I'm still a state.

Do you remember what you said
All those ****** months ago?
This was a piece I wrote whilst I was supposed to be working. It's heavily influence by the Smiths song 'Pretty Girls Make Graves' -- hence it reads more like lyrics than a poem. Morrissey or death.
Mouthpiece Mar 2015
I was never a religious man --
But now I know --
That heaven is the Devil
In stilettos.
Eyes like stained-glass windows to her soul;
And her tongue -- a
Carpet leading me to ****:
Show me the way.

I never believed in black magic,
But she's Satan:
I thought I'd escaped, but I
Was mistaken.
As certain as my death, she has me
Hanged by a string;
And I've no reason to love
This hurt she brings.
Just as I thought I had a new life, I had a dream last night; and you can all gather what that meant by the above.
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Looking down the barrel of a gun is easier than you think,
As is knowing the link between deadly diseases and my smoking.
Still, let shot be fired and breathing difficulties come;
They're the least of my concerns, despite the reputation of guns
And chemotherapy, which kills more people than it saves;
Don't even get me started on what modern medicine says,
Or gangs and their threats, because I don't find them the least bit frightening;
In addition, I'd drench myself in water and galivant through gigantic lightning
Storms, for I know of that which is the pinnacle of fear:
Living life without you or never getting my freedom back, my dear.
Love is the most paradoxical thing we know.
1.5k · Jun 2017
Ultraviolet
Mouthpiece Jun 2017
When's the last time we talked?
Couldn't remember if I tried
The very first time I saw you
I swear I almost died
It's been that way ever since
Photosynthesising your soul

Am I here?
Should I be?

And when you bloom
You bloom ultraviolet
And it makes me feel happy
It makes me feel good

Why on Earth are we suffering
Shovellin' at the coal face of ****?
Am I dead or alive now?
It's getting hard to tell
It's wet cold and grey here
When you're not around

Why am I here?
Should I be here

Picking my bones
Digging some holes
To fall into
To disappear down?

Please don't go
Please don't leave
I'm not killing time
It's killing me

And when you bloom
You bloom ultraviolet
And sometimes I'm happy
Sometimes I feel good.
For K, my sunshine. I love and miss you more than I could ever put to words.
1.5k · Sep 2015
A Sad Fact
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Some people are yet to lose their mind.
They're the people I pity the most.
Self-destruction.
1.5k · Oct 2015
Alone With You
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
Deliver me to delirium, my sweet;
Help fade my ills--sink the ships
That ferry the earth from A to B,
With the sedating nature of your lips.

Take my hands and lead me to the trance,
Which has rested between these frozen sheets
For far too long, praying my demands
Are met, alone with you, somewhere in my dreams.
To add to 'the album' or not? Spare of the moment write. Still, in my eyes, Self-Harm is better.
1.5k · Feb 2015
Riot
Mouthpiece Feb 2015
The walk down the road hasn't lasted too long --
I'm still listening to the same song I was when I left home;
Miles remain under blistering suns,
As I continuously finger this loaded gun I stole.
Maybe this is revenge?
Baby, this is revenge.

At last, I have reached the centre of town:
I can guarantee that this world won't drag me down anymore.
I lie down and put the gun to your head;
I am certain that I want you dead -- what are you asking for?
Maybe this is the end?
Baby, this is the end.

Oh I'm ever so glad to see the world started without me.
Oh I'm ever so glad to see the world started without me.

As the riot continues I am stepped on,
And the thoughts come back: I don't know if I'm wrong, or should I pull?
I don't understand this indecision:
Could I please just be granted clearer vision inside my skull?
What am I to choose?
Why am I to choose?

The building tops hide the world from the light;
And, as always, I disappear out of sight, into the shadows.
I dust myself off and I walk back home
And I look at the gun, and I throw it away, the one I stole.
Maybe I was born to lose?
Baby, you were born to lose.
I wrote this piece this evening, and it's that deep not even I can describe to you perfectly what it is about. If you could give me your suggestions as to the meaning between the lines, I would be grateful. I got lost when I was writing it myself, and I don't mean to sound pretentious with that statement.
1.5k · Mar 2015
Saudi Arabia
Mouthpiece Mar 2015
You are the diamond in the rough,
That keeps my feet on the floor.
I can ignore the rattling of loose screws,
Because they don't mean anything at all.
Oh Saudi Arabia,
Why have you not been plundered by western wars?
Is the terror make-believe?

All the lessons that they give you,
Will have you hearing 'check-mate'.
'Don't mind the crazy guy and his questioning',
That's all they seem to re-iterate.
I know my enemy:
Don't lose your head when the sword swings, it's too late;
Keep yourself bowed and breathing.
Saudi Arabia is an odd place in terms of global affairs. It's certainly the odd-one-out. Ask questions, my friends -- questions that are hard to answer.
1.4k · Jan 2017
Closer
Mouthpiece Jan 2017
There's a distant sadness
In your eyes I must get closer too.
There's a distance, south west
Of here, that I have to make it to,
To be closer to you.
There's nothing there that I want to do;
I just want to be closer to you,
To aim and to shoot,
To be closer to you,
Closer than I ever thought I'd be,
Closer to you than me.
I want to be a fool,
Be lost and spend my life lost in you,
To lose,
Just to be closer to you.
For K, the best **** person on the planet. Should any of you have the fortune to meet K, consider yourself extremely lucky.
1.4k · Feb 2017
Souls
Mouthpiece Feb 2017
Last night
Our souls
Ended
All

We took history
By the collar
And kissed it
To knotted ruin

We severed our bodies
And transcended space-time
Beyond the barricades
Of light

We became death
Destroyer of worlds

We died
And we were resurrected

We were canonised,
Baptised in the
Immortal desires
Of mortal fires

Our fusion erupted
A periodic table
Of elements
Metaphysical,
Hunted by
Those who muse
Over what they fancy
Love to be

We know their scratches
On the duvet
Are smooth and simply
Chemical

Because if I plucked
A moment in time
From the fabric of life
When man was
Closest to heaven,
It would be then,
When we tore down
The universe
With our
Bare,
Bleeding
Souls.
Last night was the most beautiful moment of my life. It was only then that I discovered love. Everything else before that was something so mild it was easy to swallow. This love is something else entirely, and I'm glad that I found the most amazing person to have ever lived to share it with.
1.4k · Sep 2015
Letter to God
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Baby, for each day spent
In the void that passes,
I tie a new noose
With another of your eyelashes.
I watch the hours dive
Head-first into piles of ashes,
As yet more time without you
Surrenders to the masses.

You are my saviour, my one remedy;
My salvation will come with the death of me.

Your blood is hemlock,
And I am the leech
That tends to your open wounds
Forever voluntarily.
Phantoms are the words
That you say to me,
But I still worship them
Whilst at the pews, down on my knees.

You are my saviour, my one remedy;
My salvation will come with the death of me.
Other heavens could be guaranteed,
Still, yours is the only one I'll ever need.
I promised myself I would not do this; but it's funny what women can get a man to do.
1.4k · Mar 2016
Overdose
Mouthpiece Mar 2016
I left my bed
With the hope
That I'd be given
Plenty of rope.
My dream disposed,
I'm left in debt
Thanks to all the
Dumb things I've said.

I brought my gun,
But my friends
Seemed to have pockets
With holes in them.
I have a grin--
A Yankee one--
Because at last,
My eyesight's gone.

Light lets us see
What darkness made;
Still, I swallow words
I need to say.
Oh aspartame,
You've beaten me
And you kept
Your dignity.
I've decided to write about my numbness and apathy over the past few days. I've been in a very dark place--even by my standards. It's not the crushing depression that has afflicted me so often that haunts me most, it's the lack of haunting, the lack of manic highs and detrimental lows that is most troublesome. I've come to terms that there's never going to be a revolution, at least in my lifetime; the millennial generation is too caught up in trivialities to care. Is it bad that I want to see all we know tarnished and razed? Is it bad that I'm ready to give up on wanting that? The sensation of numbness: a paradox nobody can explain.
Mouthpiece Jan 2015
We kicked piles of crushed Carling cans,
Like dried-up autumn leaves
As we wondered aimlessly through
Boarded-up suburb streets;
I looked at you and you looked to me
With eyes absent of dreams.
You asked me 'is this what life is?'
And I replied 'not everything is what it seems'.

We talked between two ageing cars
'Til the streetlights came to life;
You said 'you're cold and have to go'
I said 'two plus two makes five'.
You turned away and softly smiled
With the same gaze in your eyes --
And I sat back and thought to myself
So this is what it feels like to be alive.
I wrote this piece not ten minutes ago, and I can finally feel the blockage flowing down the drain and can see the direction in which I want my writing to be. I think I've painted a little picture of Northern England for you guys; I'm sorry for getting political -- it does make a welcome change from my obsession however.
1.4k · Jul 2018
July 4th
Mouthpiece Jul 2018
America,
you’re free

to do what, exactly?
1.4k · Sep 2015
Self-Harm
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
It's getting hard to be romantic,
Without making people sick or being stuck on repeat;
If it's okay with you, babe, I'll chance it,
And smile as people faint at the sight of yesterday's feast.

A stranger's gaze in the mirror,
The message I give can't be clearer;
Baby, don't you know my life is a mess?
From shadows scream silent voices;
Now I'm afraid I've ran out of choices,
Waiting for the day I'm tossed into darkness.

Sentenced to a life of solitude,
All because I spend my years revolving 'round you;
Although, sentenced is the wrong word to use,
'Cause, baby, for you, it's one of many things I'd happily do.

Am I getting closer yet?
People talk sense, but I can't hear it,
As love has convicted me of heresy.
I'll dig away at the soil myself;
This is far from a cry for help.
If being lost in you is criminal, I am guilty.

Smoke engulfs me as I meditate,
Blessing this beautiful occupation;
Fire envelopes my once-stable frame,
And you're what sparked my immolation.

I still taste the scent of you;
The air I breathe you have polluted;
Your flavour runs the length of my tongue.
My nerves wreak havoc with my guts,
And darlin', I can't get enough,
Even though it's doin' me wrong.
I consider this my masterpiece. The penultimate piece of the Mouthpiece album.
1.4k · Sep 2015
Hurt
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
You asked me to write you poetry
A couple of months ago, when you said
That you never meant to hurt me,
But we'd be better off remaining friends.
Now I shadow box with my sanity
Wondering if we'll ever meet again,
As this hook through my heart makes me bleed:
You were always destined to hurt me in the end.

I relive each moment I saw you
Several thousand times throughout the day;
I beat myself black and blue,
And refuse to stop or even change.
It's one **** of a term to come to,
Yet, my commitment has been made.
You may think my decision ****** or crude,
But there's definitely pleasure in the pain.

Trapped in this quandary,
From love, I find myself running scared;
However, on the contrary,
Never having you is something I cannot bare.
So deal all your damage to me;
I think the pain will eventually show its worth.
Love is the word I'll continue to repeat;
And I know it's love, because it hurts.
1.4k · Mar 2016
On Writing
Mouthpiece Mar 2016
Writing is like talking to yourself,
Except people don't think you're crazy.
Mouthpiece Dec 2015
Keep your swastikas to yourself,
And keep your hate-laced speeches behind your teeth.
You confuse me; is all this for comedic effect?
Because Muslims don't scare me as I walk the British streets.
If not, then your existence worries me--
Not to mention the influence you can buy.
You talk like you're drunk--nonsense at best;
I think you need to cut back binging on wine.
And if you think more guns will solve gun crime,
And Mexicans only import **** and drugs to sell,
Then you're mistaken. Look, I'm not rich or educated,
But I can tell all that matters to you is self-gain and wealth.
Can I remove this clothes peg from off my nose,
Or are you you going to keep talking **** to me?
You're an ignorant, self-obsessed, foolish waste of skin,
And your hair only intensifies your stupidity.
Trump is British slang for ****. Stop talking out of your **** is a British saying, basically meaning stop saying ****** things.
1.4k · Mar 2016
Nicotine
Mouthpiece Mar 2016
Closer I come
To uncertainty,
To a haze
That shrouds me.
Yeah it's cool,
But am I a fool?
It's more than a
Possibility.
I kiss your lips,
God how they itch;
I'm never alone
With nicotine.
I'm not myself
In your eyes;
Leave me alone
With nicotine,

Nicotine,
Nicotine.

Come closer to me;
I've seen you before,
But your face
I can't recall.
Who's McCoy?
A photocopy?
It's more than a
Possibility.

I'm never alone
With nicotine.
About how people act and change when they're around different people and ideas. This is also about how we want to be unique but we never are for fear of ostracism. The idea appeals to us, and we need it, but we fear it ultimately. A few people hate trends, and are judged unjustly for not following suit. There is therefore a conflict of interests, when we should just accept people how they are.
1.4k · Mar 2016
There is Hope After All
Mouthpiece Mar 2016
She had a story to tell,
And she has no medals on her lapels
From leaders of men.
But she has thought and emotion,
Safe in a bottle that travelled the ocean,
That I found around the bend.

And she broke me down.
She broke me down.

If I didn't know better,
I'd guess I was in a coma,
Breathing via machine;
However I can taste the air--
The life support I find in her--
Crutches and medicine.

She breaks me down.
Oh, she breaks me down.

I'd be the wall her back is to,
She's a window, and I enjoy the view
More than television.
I can feel her goosebumps when
The hairs on her neck stand on end;
There's no silicon.

She's real, and breaks me down.
How she breaks me down.
This is dedicated to one of the most influential, inspiring, and wonderful people I have ever met. You know, this person, when I found them, had been through the worst things life could possibly throw, but didn't need support. Instead, they showed me that there is something worthwhile about life, and that completely shattered the shell I had enclosed myself in with ease. I found something real, something the world lacks and so desperately craves. And I found it. The good go through so much and ask so little in return, so this is for that person, who is going through a lot of the fake world's trouble at the moment. Here's to hoping there are more people like this person out there.
1.4k · Oct 2015
Ego
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
Ego
We're all a part of the same scheme;
We all watch as our months fade,
And reach for the same level of free
When we rest and rot at the grave.
We all act on the same screen;
Love, hate, and regret paths we've paved;
The tears we cry, the blood we bleed,
The aches we feel, they don't change
From one to the next; nor do our dreams
Alter that much--regardless of age or name.
You can be young, old, or somewhere between,
And have a polar tastes of food, books, and games.
Brown eyes, blue eyes, or any shade of green,
You're as good or bad as us all; that won't change,
Because our novel, whose cover may seem
To transform, keeps the same text on the same pages.
Keep the above close, and you'll be set free
From the stuff that has often had us bounded by cages.
Pathogens and old age takes us all eventually,
And an ego should not be allowed to stay
Or halt the spread of love the earth really needs.
Please, just care and love everyday.
A poem about the ego that does not contain the letter 'I'.
1.3k · Dec 2016
Schadenfreude
Mouthpiece Dec 2016
And still I'm yet to be convinced
That you must suffer for us;
I refuse to believe it ever since
I saw your gushing blood,
While you were hanging from the meat hooks,
Or whilst bolted to the ground,
Always in a darkened room where
We cannot hear the sounds
Of machines tearing feathers from your wings,
Stripping your freedom in place of screams.
I wonder if they knew how you cry
Would it change a thing?

In abject misery,
From birth to death you serve,
For our pleasure and our gluttony,
And I don't know what it's worth;
In a life lived in **** on earth,
In chaos and disorder,
We **** you as we say we love you.
Meat is nothing short of ******.

You're force-fed until your legs break,
Torn apart and tossed aside;
But you are the cornerstone that makes
All else be alive,
And still we only care when you're fried
And stuffed into our face,
And we never give a second thought
As your purity goes to waste;
You're beaten and caged for nothing
Taken from your right to be.
I wonder if they knew how you die
Would it change a thing?

In abject misery,
From birth to death you serve,
For our pleasure and our gluttony,
And I don't know what it's worth;
In a life lived in **** on earth,
In chaos and disorder,
We **** you as we say we love you.
Meat is nothing short of ******.
Schadenfreude: taking pleasure from the suffering of others.
The subject I am most passionate about. Be kind to animals. If this offends you, firstly, watch Earthlings, and secondly, I don't care.
1.3k · Oct 2015
Mouthpiece (the first album)
Mouthpiece Oct 2015
For anybody keeping abreast of what I have been doing, whether dying to see it, or cringing at the thought of it, Mouthpiece's first album is complete at long last. What I have done, is assembled the 'lyrics' together, in what will look like one long poem (below if you wish to read it). It's over 2,000 words long, so I don't blame you if you don't. I will be adding them to a collection called Mouthpiece tomorrow evening. If you think there are weaknesses, as always, critique is welcome with open arms. THANK YOU ALL EVER SO MUCH!

ANNA
Anna,
Confusion has been rife of late;
I'm hanging on to the **** end of the stick,
When it's not the time or the place,
As if my life depends on it.

Anna,
I can see the remains of love
Running black rivers down the length of your face,
So let me give you a shove;
We haven't got the time to waste.

Anna,
Reveal all your secrets and weep;
I know of the dirt that hides under your nails;
I promise I'll laugh if all else fails
Because my life is equally bleak.

Anna,
Moths run rampant in my underwear,
And the working-class lifestyle isn't for me;
But with you, I learned to love poverty
Whilst kidding myself into believing you were there.

Anna,
I've drained enough fluid from my soul
To care not if you break the skin from time to time;
Because I write about you using my blood, you know.

I’M IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL MEDICAL HELP
Looking down the barrel of a gun is easier than you think,
As is knowing the link between deadly diseases and my smoking.
Still, let shot be fired and breathing difficulties come;
They're the least of my concerns, despite the reputation of guns
And chemotherapy, which kills more people than it saves;
Don't even get me started on what modern medicine says,
Or gangs and their threats, because I don't find them the least bit frightening;
In addition, I'd drench myself in water and gallivant through gigantic lightning
Storms, for I know of that which is the pinnacle of fear:
Living life without you or never getting my freedom back, my dear.

MY GIFT TO YOU
Is falling in love any good at all?
If so, I've drawn the shortest straw
As I bleed, distraught upon the floor.
Surely by definition
You get hurt when using the word 'fall'?
Would you care to share your thoughts?

Let me catch my breath;
With every minute of absence, your grip tightens 'round my chest.
It's been just a few days, yet you will not vacate my head;
You're trickling through me instead.

With your fingers 'round my heart,
I wonder whether you have truly felt this way from the start;
Or were the words you said a cruel and twisted joke on your part?
I'm not sure how you'd answer; either way I've already fallen apart.

Is falling in love any good at all?
If so, I've drawn the shortest straw
As I bleed, distraught upon the floor.
Surely by definition
You get hurt when using the word 'fall'?
Would you care to share your thoughts?

My gift to you is the heart that you now hold.
Not one week has passed, but I'd glady hand over my soul.
Who am I trying to fool? You already have complete control.
I wonder if I'll ever call you my own.

Is falling in love any good at all?
If so, I've drawn the shortest straw
As I bleed, distraught upon the floor.
Surely by definition
You get hurt when using the word 'fall'?
Would you care to share your thoughts
With me?

LOUD AND CLEAR
Have you seen me jump through hoops --
Set ablaze? -- mostly these days 'cause of the lack of things you do.
Do you want to know the truth?
Let's put it this way: I had no idea there were so many shades of grey, until I fell right in to you.
Do you know you've lead a coup?
I guess not because you went away, and in your wake you soaked me in blue glue.
Now there will never be somebody new:
I'm still here, trying to find you.

The silence is loud and clear,
And my heart knows it too well --
Better with each beat that you're not here.
And as far as I can tell,
The future brings no change, I fear;
And my heart knows too well
That the silence is loud and clear.

Do you recognise my bones?
Well they've looked you in the face while my grace slowly heads towards the stone,
'Cause you never cared to phone;
And now my psyche is out of place, hidden in some shadowed space that is yet to become known.
I'm dying to read that poem --
Make no mistake, you'd have left it late, but still I spin 'round and 'round in this cyclone:
Love drunk and alone.
Show me the way to go home?

The silence is loud and clear,
And my heart knows it too well --
Better with each beat that you're not here.
And as far as I can tell,
The future brings no change, I fear;
And my heart knows too well
That the silence is loud and clear.


ALONE WITH YOU
Deliver me to delirium, my sweet;
Help fade my ills--sink the ships
That ferry the earth from A to B,
With the sedating nature of your lips.

Take my hands and lead me to the trance,
Which has rested between these frozen sheets
For far too long, praying my demands
Are met, alone with you, somewhere in my dreams.

YOU’VE MURDERED ME, AND I WISH TO RETURN THE FAVOUR
I want to feel the pressure in each of your veins drop;
I want to watch the colour from your face drain as your heart stops;
I want you to slowly come to terms with the fact that you're being killed.
I would never wish death upon most, but you, on the other hand, I always will.

If our lips ever meet,
I want to steal all the air from your lungs --
Just like you've done to me;
I want to feel the heat
Crawling across the surface of my tongue --
Like when you murdered me.

THE BE ALL AND END ALL
Technically speaking,
Roses don't have thorns, but ******;
And there's one rose in particular
That I'm stuck in love with.
And as the name suggests,
She's an annoying sting in my side;
I can't remove her with brute force or ignorance,
Try as I might.

She was a star's light,
Beautiful, yet so distant and cold;
But she went supernova,
And ****** me into the remaining black hole,
That's too strong to escape;
However, I'm happy to die there,
But it would be nice to see the world again,
And live a life not surrounded by her.

We need to talk this over,
'Cause the slashes are nearing the bone;
And I'm terribly frightened that, eventually,
She'll eat me out of house and home.
She's not all things to all men,
But she'd adopt the position perfectly;
Humanity, I argue, would cease to exist.
To back up this claim, just take a look at me.

HER
I often think of a title once I've finished my work
For no reason at all, but in this instance it's stopping the hurt.
Bricks are stacked higher and higher when I think of that word;
My hands start to tremble and my imagination burns.
I've never had self-expression so hard, and it's only getting worse;
This bombardment of one emotion is turning into a curse,
It's making me lose sleep and it's ******* absurd --
But it's just another love song to add to the pile about her.

So the cork went flying and hit me straight in the teeth;
Six years of secrecy passed by before I decided to speak.
My true feelings remain hidden by my tongue and my cheek;
But for six years I've been stuck like I've got nails through my feet.

For you, I would jump and pull down all of the stars;
I would wait until the day I die just to get close to your heart;
I'd volunteer to step in the ring with Tyson and ******* spar --
But I'm nothing to you, and you're everything -- yeah, you really are.
It's like you're drink-driving in someone else's car.
You slam your foot to the floor to crash and make me fly far.
But it's cool, I've always wanted to die with a few scars --
And now I've got plenty because you've pulled me apart.

I've always wanted you, and I'm sure that'll never change.
I was of the opinion that I could not be conquered, so it's kinda strange
How I crumble completely with every word that you say.
This is another love song about her, and you cannot imagine the pain.

LETTER TO GOD
Baby, for each day spent
In the void that passes,
I tie a new noose
With another of your eyelashes.
I watch the hours dive
Head-first into piles of ashes,
As yet more time without you
Surrenders to the masses.

You are my saviour, my one remedy;
My salvation will come with the death of me.

Your blood is hemlock,
And I am the leech
That tends to your open wounds
Forever voluntarily.
Phantoms are the words
That you say to me,
But I still worship them
Whilst at the pews, down on my knees.

You are my saviour, my one remedy;
My salvation will come with the death of me.
Other heavens could be guaranteed,
Still, yours is the only one I'll ever need.

WALLS
Brick walls have been built
Around the thing that is you and I.
This is probably the first case
Where I've found solace in my mind.
Baby, I'm trying not to make a scene,
But I've found what I want until the end of time;
And I know that, somewhere deep inside,
You're worth each of the tears that I cry.

I'm fighting a battle,
'Cause the plans I drew up have went wrong;
One side tells me to leave,
And the other says 'keep keeping on'.
Lately it has been a struggle
To stay standing and remain strong,
Because the thing that is you and I,
I've realised, will only contain one.

I've tried climbing those walls,
So I could see what it would be like;
When it's only the two of us,
With our entire world in each other's eyes.
I'm that close I can taste you,
But the walls are just a few inches too high;
The thought alone, however,
Makes me that happy I could die.

HURT
You asked me to write you poetry
A couple of months ago, when you said
That you never meant to hurt me,
But we'd be better off remaining friends.
Now I shadow box with my sanity
Wondering if we'll ever meet again,
As this hook through my heart makes me bleed:
You were always destined to hurt me in the end.

I relive each moment I saw you
Several thousand times throughout the day;
I beat myself black and blue,
And refuse to stop or even change.
It's one **** of a term to come to,
Yet, my commitment has been made.
You may think my decision ****** or crude,
But there's definitely pleasure in the pain.

Trapped in this quandary,
From love, I find myself running scared;
However, on the contrary,
Never having you is something I cannot bare.
So deal all your damage to me;
I think the pain will eventually show its worth.
Love is the word I'll continue to repeat;
And I know it's love, because it hurts.

SELF-HARM
It's getting hard to be romantic,
Without making people sick or being stuck on repeat;
If it's okay with you, babe, I'll chance it,
And smile as people faint at the sight of yesterday's feast.

A stranger's gaze in the mirror,
The message I give can't be clearer;
Baby, don't you know my life is a mess?
From shadows scream silent voices;
Now I'm afraid I've ran out of choices,
Waiting for the day I'm tossed into darkness.

Sentenced to a life of solitude,
All because I spend my years revolving 'round you;
Although, sentenced is the wrong word to use,
'Cause, baby, for you, it's one of many things I'd happily do.

Am I getting closer yet?
People talk sense, but I can't hear it,
As love has convicted me of heresy.
I'll dig away at the soil myself;
This is far from a cry for help.
If being lost in you is criminal, I am guilty.

Smoke engulfs me as I meditate,
Blessing this beautiful occupation;
Fire envelopes my once-stable frame,
And you're what sparked my immolation.

I still taste the scent of you;
The air I breathe you have polluted;
Your flavour runs the length of my tongue.
My nerves wreak havoc with my guts,
And darlin', I can't get enough,
Even though it's doin' me wrong.
If you would care to share your thoughts, please do so. If you want to tear my idea to pieces, go right ahead!
1.3k · Sep 2015
The Be All and End All
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Technically speaking,
Roses don't have thorns, but ******;
And there's one rose in particular
That I'm stuck in love with.
And as the name suggests,
She's an annoying sting in my side;
I can't remove her with brute force or ignorance,
Try as I might.

She was a star's light,
Beautiful, yet so distant and cold;
But she went supernova,
And ****** me into the remaining black hold,
That's too strong to escape;
However, I'm happy to die there,
But it would be nice to see the world again,
And live a life not surrounded by her.

We need to talk this over,
'Cause the slashes are nearing the bone;
And I'm terribly frightened that, eventually,
She'll eat me out of house and home.
She's not all things to all men,
But she'd adopt the position perfectly;
Humanity, I argue, would cease to exist.
To back up this claim, just take a look at me.
Written whilst I was supposed to be working. She is relentless.
1.3k · May 2016
Hangover
Mouthpiece May 2016
From the confides of my room, partitioned by paper great rejects,
I saw and see chests concaved by the clockwork between sunrise and sunset,
Heads gripped by lunacy and wires and the jagged claws of clause,
*****, ******, wide-eyed ruin.

Pluto never completed an orbit whilst classified as a planet.

Blue faces stand with scenic, dusty amps in voids, conjured in the eighties,
Silent, voluntarily strangled by silhouetted spectres, crotch-stuffed with egos and sweat from oral *** from icons of 'liberty',
Non-events called dreams yet to be broken,
Spearheading through slums lined by lynched and culled axe-men--maniacs, hanged by melodic strings,
Snare and bass, leather and lace and skull, ride and crash bomb blast.
Stovepipe hats tipped to makers.
Towns and allotted murals, melting flesh on child bones; faraway interstellar paint brushes don't sweep like they used to. Faces so distant, familiar under the microscope, running because some idiot turned the thermostat up too high. Clean bricks, grey and worthless.
Feather-duster culture, sat on the couch, not working very hard at all. Ticking and ticking and clicking and pulling. Empty pages are bars on prison cell windows that look out across
Fluoride smiles of irate cooling towers, chemical by deed, toxic knuckles pound the sands, and ink is easily replaced.
Prostitution hand, capital glove,
Asphyxia, Olanzapine, Olanzapine,
Null.

I am sad, and so are you--somewhere.

Crushed, we stand on shadowed streets--skyscraper lined--bleeding,
Angelic shrapnel, tranquil fallout, extras in a dead generation's movie reel, baby boomed oblivion;
Matadors turned the bull loose,
Ah, the good old days: gravy train insanity, Beef Wellington psychosis, tooth decay.
And God will save us all if we beg hard enough.

Rapture: peep holes in the nose, saccharine and Bombay Sapphire cry babies, head in the **** of
**** ***** statues, reading toilet scripture,
Paranoid schizophrenics are in touch with their lighter side.
The Tube is mistaken for Fallopian tubes, as we long with an inherent desire for something new, before the clock stops and we **** it with beautiful Zolpidem sleep.

And the light gets me drunk.
I share a bedroom with my brother that is separated by a bookshelf. This is radically different from what I normally do, but the topic remains as bleak as ever.
1.3k · Sep 2015
Walls
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
Brick walls have been built
Around the thing that is you and I.
This is probably the first case
Where I've found solace in my mind.
Baby, I'm trying not to make a scene,
But I've found what I want until the end of time;
And I know that, somewhere deep inside,
You're worth each of the tears that I cry.

I'm fighting a battle,
'Cause the plans I drew up have went wrong;
One side tells me to leave,
And the other says 'keep keeping on'.
Lately it has been a struggle
To stay standing and remain strong,
Because the thing that is you and I,
I've realised, will only contain one.

I've tried climbing those walls,
So I could see what it would be like;
When it's only the two of us,
With our entire world in each other's eyes.
I'm that close I can taste you,
But the walls are just a few inches too high;
The thought alone, however,
Makes me that happy I could die.
1.3k · Sep 2015
I'm Not a Religious Man, But
Mouthpiece Sep 2015
The sun never set on the Empire,
Because not even God could trust the British in the dark.
A little satire for you. However, look into the history of the Empire, and witness the horror. I cited some documents in the poem Grey Skies. That just the first body exhumed from the mass grave.
1.3k · Jan 2015
A Dog's Life
Mouthpiece Jan 2015
You always say such charming things:
'What did I do or fail to do that has me living this way?'
Oh the misery it brings, it must really break you;
Let the ground grow a hole that'll swallow me whole.

'There's a ***** hair on the seat!'
Are you over the edge this week, or will I see you again --
Stood aboard a crowded train with that same old, same old
Face, so cold? Let the ground swallow me whole.

Oh it must be a dog's life you live -- it must!
I wrote this piece last night, and it's a finger in the eye of the people who complain about the stupidest things in life, yet, refuse to change them. So hard done by, but still eating three meals a day, often more; still having the most expensive clothes and gadgets. Would you shut up? I really don't want to hear your 'problems'.
1.3k · Apr 2015
Summit
Mouthpiece Apr 2015
Not one single print left on your boots:
There's no signs of tracks at the tops or the roots.
The air grows thin, the temperature plummets;
This is what happens when you stand at the summit.

The nearest soul is miles below,
And I cannot bestow the unbearable cold;
If only I could send my thoughts right to you,
But I dare not as I'm sceptical of this view.

You never wanted a lord, and that's what I refuse to be --
But at the summit, you can only stand alone and freeze.
Am I really this high, or are my senses a show?
I am owed an Oscar; and for what reason, you'll never know.
The first instalment of a triplet I wrote today.
This is a piece about masking feelings, and my own realisation that I am doing just that.
Next page