I am hollow
I am rage
I am mortal man in cage.

I am peak
I am chasm
I am grotesque ******.

I am hot
I am cold
I am broken, all told.

The concrete is cracked,
the bodies are burning,
and the skies are screaming with rocket fire,
our bullets.

It might be I don't understand the politics or the religion,
but these are the things we use to aim with precision.

Humanity is a fragile thing,
our world is bleeding,
and if this bloodshed is to globalise,
then we all need to mobilise.

They said that heartbreak is only emotional pain,
but I saw the symptoms of shock in the mirror,
lips so pale as to blend in with my skin colour.

I felt dizzy, nauseous, could feel both the thunder of my heart and it's slowness.
Yes, heartbreak is real, as real as the strength of one's heart.

Or do I mean soul?

But what is broken may always be mended,
and I'm feeling a lot better now,
and I hope you are too.

Love is chemicals and impulses,
but despite this,
words cannot express
this girl I miss.

Love is an addiction,
and I need a fix,
a norepinephrine cocktail,
a dopamine kiss,
a feeling of bliss.

I float in fervent freefall.
Do you know the flavour of not being good enough?
It's a taste that grows on you.

Did you know that there are many avenues to pain:
Not just physical but emotional, which is the hardest to avoid, ain't it the truth (now baby)?
We all sometimes stroll down envy and jealousy and fear and anxiety,
but I've been known to sleep there,
lie down on hell's concrete.

I'm still mining for a heart of gold
but I fear I'm growing old.