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Conversation?
drop me out
don't want to know
what you're on about.
Leave me alone
I am in the silent zone
Conversation?
drop me out.

Everywhere I go there's someone wants to blow their stack
attack me with the alphabet,
with sentences they sentence me
to noise and noise, why
can't they let me be.
Those moments that I wait for;
I always hide in between binders.
Rusted pages telling me sad stories;
Please leave me on a shelf
(That way I can matter to someone)
Just let time pass.
Bend my pages so that,
when you're ready,
you can start off where you finished,
like you have, before.

Your busy hands caress my brown skin,
please read me again and again and again.
Write notes on me,
(It shows you cared once before.)
In the long ago,
when miracles did what they do;
save me.
The clueless.

The spikes have gone?
then give a cheer
but
if they're not here,
where are they?
in some other doorway?
keeping out the homeless lout?

The homeless.

Look about you,can you see them, as they fade
into the brickwork,can't you heed them,help to feed them
or is it that we just don't need them?
Yes
the spikes have gone and yet some people wear
them on
their hearts.
Th spikes were put in the doorway of a fancy block of flats in Southwark, after much protesting they were removed,it always seems the homeless have no voice but they have people out here who care and will speak for them.
I am undecided
I don't know why.
I say,goodbye,I say hello
I come and go and still don't know
who or where or what I am.
If undeciding is the game then I'm your man
or maybe not,
I can't decide.
The struggle goes on and on and on and on..oh god is this OCD.
 Jun 2014 individuality-exists
JM
These rooms are getting smaller
without you.
These tired bones ache in
your absence.

You are missing, from me

It's almost five a.m. and
I'm staring at the walls again,
thinking of all the women
and their parts.
Their missing parts and
the chunks they ripped
from me.

Some took more than I could give
and knowing this didn't make
the bleeding any easier.
Pushing boundaries becomes a bore;
I know how far I will go.

I saw the weathered metal chairs
on your porch, the same kind my grandmother had in her back yard,
as I drove near your house today.

I remembered our brief kiss, on those chairs. The electric shudder rippling through my entire being as your lips parted and for one sweet, fleeting moment, I felt loved.

It's five a.m. now and I'll die again today,
without you.
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