The **** that I do not give overrides the **** that I do.
But then again the **** that I do give is only contemplation on the hurt I have bestowed on others at this very point in time.
It is only due to the hurt I've used and abuse to hurt myself.
In turn this self hating hurt has hurt my friends, father and pretend mother.
I am selfish.
Self-absorbed, self-occupied, self-threatening, self-conscience.
Me, me, me, me, me!

They do not understand.
Every night is a bath of salty sweat, blood and tears.
Visions leaking out from my mind projected on dark walls, staring me in the face.
While, in next-door rooms, cousins, brothers, fathers, mothers, sleep silent and happy dreams.

I brought it upon myself.
Popping merks in a dodgy town.
Talking to David at the church while crowds of cartoons watched.
Confused, anxious and ever so angry.
TALK TO ME!
NO, SHUT THE **** UP!
T'was all a mistake that should never have been made.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the events that were to follow had never happened.
Drug accusations that were vigorously and victoriously argued and lied about.
So, now I'm left with two options.
Come clean and confess this mess,
Or, keep it all inside and continue with this selfish protest.

I'm surrounded by trees and empty fields
and the monotonous draw of everyday day life.
But the trees they are beautiful,
they'll shadow my fears without a shadow of doubt.
But only the trees.
The trees.
Man is too self-absorbed to be truly affectionate.
Man cannot help, with words.
My lovely trees.
They do not speak.
They do not move.
They stand a silent justification to mother earth and all she has done.

The eyes in the trees are now looking at me.
Observing and judging, the ins and the outs,
Of relationships all around.
Questions and answers talked about
like general matters.

The sky cannot fall, it surrounds us all.
Holding up the moon and the stars
And the sun.
Knows all the secrets since time has begun.
Evolution and theories.
Theories and queries.

Merging the surges.
Converging the urges.
Surveying and delaying.
A brutally soft touch.
A swift tug.
Scramble to the rug.

Hop, twirl, stamp.
Intrinsic epidemics.
Employing harsh thoughts.
Enjoying warm laughs.
Instant confusion.
Undeliberate actions.
Sub-consciencely projected.

Magnified emotions.
Disrespectful conclusions.
Foundations laid, entrusted.
Irrigation failed, erupted.
Defied by fate.

Erratic emotions flowing over the hill.
This emotion subsided by numerous pills.
Feelings held and hidden deep within.
Illness confined by smiles, a grin.

Suddenly the tables turn and
With a swift flash of his sword
The doors open wide and inside
There is a spindle of spinning
The walls break down and
He crawls right in there
Screaming and thrashing.
She hurls it all shut .

Silence.
It is all complete.
Just for this week.
Maybe a day.
Nothing to say.
It is all known.
We built our home