The cloudy streets of Edinburgh
Provided me with something
To help pass the time, empty promises.

I began to care for a boy, a stranger,
After a mere five minutes of conversation.
I laughed when I was supposed to,

And our arms brushed in the process.
I had forgotten that warmth could be
Supplied simply from sharing space.

I had been numbed, under-oxygenated,
Without human contact, in that way,
Since 2012. I guess it was all my doing,

Constantly catering myself with opportunities
That would account for nothing. And
Knowing deep down so. Yet, the naive,

Still childish part of me, thought it would be
Okay to allow myself this one fantasy.
I allowed myself to study his features,

Thinking that they may one day be described
In my poetry. I spoke to him on another
Two occasions, and allowed him the third,

But he never grasped it. I stood there,
On the Edinburgh streets, watching as he
Didn't watch me. Attempting to

Look approachable. Attempting to look happy.
Because I had promised myself that I wouldn't
Be the one to chase, each and every time.

The sun rises daily, without exception.
*We should learn from the sun.

your eyelids flutter like an insect's wings,
yet you reject the concept of delicacy.
your thoughts may be harsh, but
don't forget that you are capable of caressing
another. allow your lips one secret kiss,
let your foggy mind rest. think not
of your troubles, only of how it feels to
skim the surface of my mouth.
rest your head upon my lap, lose your
inhibitions - let me sing you to sleep.
forget about your nicotine habit, (and the
fact that you cannot afford your ways)
deny yourself of that cigarette. i too, am
an addiction, and there will be days
where you will have to go without.

Smoke inhabits my throat. My friends,
Intoxicated, are complimentary –
They say they wish their aesthetic was mine.
My lips, painted baby blue,
Hold loosely onto the Marlboro cigarettes.
I think of a boy, who I don't truly
Know, and I wish he'd attended tonight,
Although he was not invited.

I think in depth of social circles,
And of how circles are impenetrable –
They go continuously round with no edges
To break. I begin to realise that
That is the reason you aren't mine,
And never will be. However, can't
Circles overlap? Why should we not be
The arcs that meet? You are not here,
And I wish you were. What would you
Think about me taking a draw,
****, more than one? I said to you
Once that I would not become another
Teenager, another statistic, who inhales.

I guess I lied.

I think of all this –
As they take ***** shots,
And I distract myself from you
For a moment, by asking why
They'd drink it straight.

So, what if I told you
reality is the dream.
Are you prepared for the
                                         NIGHTMARE?
Do you want to wake up?
Yes, the key is to open your mind and wake up and become one of the socially conscious higher ups in the anarchy we call
Society,
But with great power comes great responsibility.
Honestly, do you believe in the prophecy that our generation can
RISE THROUGH ADVERSITY
Become the masterpiece that God envisioned when he created this tapestry of writers and athletes?
Actually, better yet
Do you believe in the ghost of the past that rest uncomfortably in it's sanctuary?
Are we the Golden Age or are we gilded
We're livid, vivid, driven toward a goal that looks more like a sign telling us we're going the wrong way.
A wicked testimony.
So we're faced with these two options
To wake up or remain dormant
To be a pawn or be a king
To live on our knees or die on our feet
And I don't blame you if you choose eternal slumber
Because we all love to sleep and it's ironic because that's what we look forward to to during each and every day we spend in this dream --
I mean, reality
But, if you choose to lay off the benadryl and take a dose of this "real world"
You may find that missing key you've been looking for.
Or, the glass can be empty and you find nothing but misery and insomnia.
Again, the choice is yours and even if it may SCARE you
Dying on your feet means you learned to walk.
Isn't that the first thing we learn to do?
So maybe our parents actually taught a life lesson
(to our extreme disbelief)
And do know a thing or two
But still, we are the iPhone generation
And they have no clue how to tweet anti government conspiracies and
scroll for hours on tumblr
So what do they know
For all we know they may still be asleep and in the same cheap hotel room as us
So is there to trust
When we dream of gamemasters loving torturing the lower classes and pitting them against each other in death matches?!
Take this match and spark the cowards
Bring light to the revolution and set ablaze the darkening towers
Let's have lucid dreams and rebuild the democracy
Dreams and reality become synonymous and merge into each other to form a new entity and we shall call it
**GOD? YOUR MASTERPIECE!

It gets... agonizing.
So, very agonizing, and she wonders through the days,
"will it ever end?"
Perhaps, maybe, the divinity of nature
struck down on the undeserving.
A mistake is not a lifetime
                            but a good portion of it
and deep down she knows she couldn't
but each day regrets her decisions
and rubs lamps on nightstands littered with lotto tickets.
To make matters worse, or better,
all around her are visions of joy,
                            happiness, love?
And by accepting her fate,
she embraces, and acknowledges,
that the deed was surely done,
and life in death.

Listen to the wind screaming
And the air howling
The thunder rolling
Lightening illuminating the black skies
You will hear the storm
And remember me;
Think  
She wanted storms