This is despicable
Look, this is ridiculous
Come here
Feel this
It’s cold
It’s disgusting
It’s horrible

Here
Where are you going
I want to speak to your manager
Wait, what
Why you going that way
You should be going this way

Listen!

Just shut up and eat your dinner!

Perhaps I seen beauty in you
and it's something I wanted to nurture,
or it might be what's missing in me
and part of me hoped that you'd fill it.

I told you that neither were true
that we just need to let ourselves flourish;
if you just laid all your flowers on mine
Then we'll see how the colours will look
and then maybe we'll think about feelings.

To love as you do,
it makes me feel weak.
I who was born with everything
and you with nothing at all.

To not know where you’d be now
or if you’d even be here.
I can’t imagine.
If you’d be loved like you have been
or lose it all like has happened.
It pains me to think.

To smile it off
and love us regardless.
I don’t know how you do it.
And I’ll love you forever.

Your tears fall flat on those
who don’t know you.
But they cry on me.
And I pray for the day I can
tell you how much it hurts.
But I can’t now.

One day I’ll buy you the world
so it’s all been worth it.
But you don’t want that.

If you could hear my thoughts
you’d know how much I care,
and you could share your pain with me.
But still I can’t speak.
I’m not man enough yet.
And I feel terrible.

One day I’ll open my heart
so you can see we’re both the same.
You can see those you loved,
who loved you, who are now gone,
as I see them in you.

You'll know their love is not lost,
that it lives in me, thanks to you.
Though I can’t express it.

When I can,
I’ll share it with everyone,
and with you.
And then you’ll feel better.

I’m sorry.

I wrote something once.
I don't know where it came from,
or when it will come again.
I try so hard to put words on a page
so I can feel like myself,
but still they don't sound like me.

Words burn in my chest and
I can't spit them out.
Beer cools them, and so I drink it.
But the words go to my heart
and they squeeze and squeeze
and then I lose them.

They mean much to no one,
and not to me.
But left alone they squirm
and squeeze and shout
so I can't hear what they mean
or what I'm trying to think.

I can't get rid of them.

When I listen, they help.
When I don't, they burn.
I want to spit them all over,
so you can feel what they do to me.
But only if you're ready.

They're like worms, the words.
They eat, and sleep and breed,
and there's more of them.
And there'll be more tomorrow,
and if I can't get rid of them
they'll eat me alive.

When I put them on a page,
they stay still.
And then more come,
and I'll catch them too, hopefully.
Then they'll stay still
so you can see them.

The words.

I’ve crept up on the past,
like falling back from the future.
Memories last,
though time is unclear.
The future’s still not here.
Who knows when it will come?

Time stands still,
yet I see years at a time.
At least while I’m here.

The past lives,
and I won’t ruin it by
going the wrong way forward,
to undo what was done before me,
so I could be here.

I’m here now, but I can’t stay,
I won’t stay and watch this place turn to dust.
I’d rather keep it in a picture,
while time moves on.

Staring at a blank page.
It’s like memories of nothing.
Like dreaming of a blank screen.
Starting a fire that won’t light.

Casting thoughts from your mind
to make room for new ones.
Like trying to live a life that’s not yours.

Words mean nothing.
If you could think what I think
you still wouldn’t know.
I don’t.

When I remember,
it doesn’t make sense.
When I don’t,
it does,
And then it goes.

So light a fire and watch it burn,
that’s how we get old.
I’ve not lived much.
It's how it goes.

We all get old.