Nothing is wrong
But everything is wrong
There’s no reason for this sadness,
But it’s inescapable
It’s pulling me down, drowning me
Over and over again
Lost in this sea of thoughts
Unable to find the way home
Tired of being here,
But unable to move
So lonely, but so unable to talk
So exhausted,
But always awake
The waves of guilt and shame never sleep

As a child I knew nothing
and needed even less,
content with being happy
but 'growing up' required me to digress.

I took life as a challenge
chose myself an aim,
let the goals laid out for me
become the rules of the game.

Years of living like this
distraction and reward,
suddenly I realised
I was cold, alone and bored.

My knuckles white and fingers raw
from trying to hold on,
to the rules I made as a child
but the reasons were long gone.

But whose choice is it
what I see, I want and need,
the thought that these are 'my' desires
could be called the root of greed.

So I spent years on this journey
back into my head,
to find the child I left behind
hoping he wasn't dead.

In a dream one night I found him
he laughed when he saw I forgot,
that logic was emotional
and that love was not.

So in ways I give back
what my fear took away,
to see as I grow stronger
there's nothing but today.

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

I am an artist.
I can make myself into something new
every day.
Imagine the possibilities you could
innovate,
Just let me know what you want.
Here, flip through this magazine for some
ideas,
And tell me what you like best!
It’s all about pleasing your audience
anyways,
It doesn't matter what I want,
Nobody cares about that.
They just want to see something pretty.

I sculpt and paint imagery out of tools
To end up with a fake canvas.
Day to day I suppress myself with the lies.
I chip and chisel,
Dissect and carve,
Bits and pieces,
Until I’m left trembling,
Just to be tossed away in the end.

Splashes of red,
And strokes of black ignite your appeal,
And this is what you label as real?
Hunger strikes itself through the bones
Revealing its power through the limbs
Of the body, eye sockets, sinking down,
Down,
Down.
Death could possibly be the resemblance.

What a terrible piece, a shame it is.
Maybe just a few more tweaks,
And it will at least look halfway decent.

Trim down the sides,
Thin out any extras,
Fill in what is needed.
Even just a tad more color,
Then we have something.

Time strolls by,
A year soon passes,
And one day I just happen to actually
stop,
And look at my masterpiece,
But only for a moment.

In the mirror,
A reflection stares back at a wretched,
Ghostly,
Figure.
Beads of liquid build up into my pallid
eyes,
Unable to contain the weight of their
reasons any longer,
Tears begin to burst,
They trickle down my rose stained
cheeks,
Fueled by the absence of perfection,
And I feel nothing.

Needs more work.

Your skin doesn't lie,
Your lips don’t either.
The soft touch of hand,
Upon body,
You give in.
Sweat, spilled wine and swoon,
Your heart skips a beat,
Only to match mine
In sync.
Lights on, lights off.
Beat harder,
Breathe faster,
Using our bodies to see each other.
Stop and go
Holding our breath,
Gripping the sheets
Until it’s over.