I was your fuel
You were my drain
I was your blessing
You were my lesson
I was your cure
You were my disease
I was saving you
You were killing me

- I was calming your soul, you were stirring mine

From across the bar she tapped the mouth of the glass
He poured more in
She put her lips on its hard edges
Planted firmly against the cushions of her mouth,
From its bittered gates she spoke,

I’m old you know.
I know, he said.

who are we
in god we trust, the ruler of a nation bereft of purities
corrupt ink in the capsule of a human’s casing
wages printed on the stoic faces of our leaders, blood and gore imprinted on their eyelids
spilling our incoherent tangle of words into songs and pleads for relief
we are spitting images of our mother, and her mother
iodized wounds that stretch to our finger-prints that they deem must be caged and stamped at all costs
our wrists are battered and tied with the rope of our pride
and our pink flesh is swelled up with their brand freshly printed onto our skin that reads, ‘you are nothing’
nothing but chains of forgotten children abandoned in rusted swing-sets
children who’s screams are full of hot air like the balloons that loiter about our minds
the balloons that burst sharply in a staccato beat when bittered thoughts contaminate them
we are children who press our fingers into our eye sockets and scavenge around the recesses of our minds
young hands damp with drops of the dreams that cascade down the pores in our bodies
the drops that empty into the gutter that encroaches the territory of our bones
pushed back dreams like the rotten tomatoes that stink of moldy desperation in the grocery store
memories melted into perfect formations like a drill soldier with a stone-cold face empty of temerity
memories stacked up like all you can eat pancakes that drape over us like an everlasting blithe
they leave vague impressions of naivety and sit despairingly upon our caged ribs
they cower behind closed doors and occasionally peek out from the clouds of illusions to say,
‘are you happy?’
but they disappear with cruel inspection like a fading smoke because we don’t dare to discover the truth
but even still we harbor desolation-spiked weapons that secrete through the same pores that piece us together
we are the ripest of onions, a scintillating mixture of strong scents and spirits
and the moment we realize this we try to scrape the walls of our binding
try to peel ourselves of the revolving emotions that we have been programmed with
and as our wrinkled layers flake off, we learn a bit more about how different we seem to appear
until we are nothing but a sun-dried core, who has found the truth only to move never-more

To stab your own heart is to feel the pain of your true love,
this pain,
                 this rage
is a bitterness best served cold.
This will never heal a heart this cold
is bitter than stone to cold
to understand;
                           A chest,
                                        or an ICE BOX.
to truth no pain can stumple a warm heart.
That to healing passion
I long for on a dark and scary road
to healing through hells fury.
Like fire over Ice these plans,
these hands are a portion of my next stand;
                               This mind,
this heart bittered and jealous of loves sting.
                              The pain,
Loneliness of a battered and bruised heart
full of damaged emotions,
painful eyes full of grief and disappointment
I shall never forget
                             this enthusiatic Anger
                                                                    and OverZelous Rage
I have brought to this,
                                             to US.
As I clinch my heart so painfully broken
each day because of the bitterness that I caused
trying my best to
                                      "REDEEM"
myself....Please Accept me!

Soon these Oceans will Breathe your Nation's Flag
The Next White Wave bid your Empire Win
Of all your Faves to Labours your Efforts glad
Now Breed the Cup to place your Feet within
And will such Dream - as Clouds will gladly tell
Care to Raise this Jewel we call the Sun
Feign these Figures as one Critic un-well,
These Tripe-Haste Metaphors ensure your Fun
For what be such Success if Peppered Smiles
Seasoned to Last as any Great Athlete knows
A Pinch on your Cheek; And Gold on your Miles
All where Heart's be Heart your Country's Shine glows.
Still you Conquered - Cakes bittered by Life's Truth
Frost these Doubts - SIGNORA! Then Taste your Youth.

I chose to take a painful path,
Where my bloodied footprints
Trailed upon life's broken glass,
Bleeding out across the shards
Of shattered hopes, discarded hearts.

In loves gutter I found my truth,
Face down in that waste of you
Which bittered every taste of youth,
Spat out your words so dearly held
And choked that hope on cruel untruths.

TS Lefort 2021

You and me
We share unfinished conversation and broken sentences
And in between the moments interrupted
Are long white tenses.

We swim in a sea of great big ears
And look at a sky of wide eyes
And there on the shore
A hundred mouths or more
Ready to Shout
Out
LOUD

All the snippits and snappets
Spread like butter
All bittered and battered
How would you like some feelings on your toast
To haunt you like a ghost
Just something shared
Just some kind care
So why's it lying there
Shivering and bare

So I'm writing and thinking and fighting and tempted
To crawl through the floor
I'm lying on my bed
trying to remember what was said
Some kind of question
To try or test me
What kind answer
Will rest me.

I've got feelings with no voice
Feelings with no choice
Over what they are
Despite what I said about owning your own star
Sometimes I wonder
Do stars unite
In the night
And are feelings
Something to fight?

You know if I could I would
Love you
And shouldn't
Just wouldn't
Know.