Your yesterday when the nights are sweet,

You run wild without care, the universe in your eyes

So raw and bare

When your soul was cradled and your worries invisible

How you wish you could go back?

To what was once home

To what was once your own

Without lines on your face

Without darkness in your eyes

Back then when you have not known

The world so meek so true, with glee

When your soul was cradled and your heart is new

Now it’s all dull, it’s all broken and used

Body and soul, filled with exhaustion

Back then the nights were sweet,

Unlike now where you count the things you haven’t done so you can sleep.

Fingers aren’t enough for those things you should have said

Your dreams now haunted – they count you down before you go to bed

History's repeating itself
In a lot of different ways

Money worth stomaching
Boxes folding stacking
Plain clothed cops and
Cars worth hijacking
Annoy me and all they do is pass me
Like i am in a James Hugh's movie

This is my white flag and
I surrender with every ounce of me.
I refuse to fight you anymore;
this battle cannot be won.
Because this war in my mind
is never ending
and I am the only soldier left standing.
I am certain that the smoke will never clear
and I have become terrified of what
has made it's home within it.
Please, do not send help,
I've given up on my own terms
and I will lose graciously.

- R. H.

In a dream
My brothers old lover couldn't
Recognize me
Though we laughed
Though we chattered
Though we spilled like glass
Six or so years ago

She laughed and called me names
As if my brain had boils
Ugly, afraid of mirrors
And lights

Opened my eyes and felt a longing
For the company of a near stranger
Faultless and unimportant

That morning wasn't like any other.
I saw her and knew we were meant together.
We talked for the first time.
We were young and in our prime.
"Hi", I said.
"Hi", she replied.
I faltered mentioning her name.
For she wasn't like those i regard as mere game.
"Do I know you?" she asked.
And just like that my confidence was halfed.
But I knew I just couldn't give up.
Maybe a chance, then later a breakup.
I still see her sometimes.
With such passion, it never dies.
This day i write hoping to let go forever.
To this, i'm still an unbeliever.

Once passed
Always alive
You Lou
Have me hypnotized.
Not a word
I have heard
Sounds more real
Than the ones
you've told

I too,
Have been
"Waiting
For the man."
Head up Lexington
And start lookin'
For a dear
Dear friend
Of mine;
But mostly
For that one,
Quick, fix.

Soon after
"******" hits
And I too
Am dosed,
I - don't - know.
My only
Wonder now is
If a smack
Syringe can be
As good as
It sounds at
This moment

You took me to the park
And we sat on the swings
We talked for hours
And I didn't even realize the lapse in time.
You're proud of me, I think.
Proud to be with me, I think, while you take pictures of me to show.
I laugh and smile, and self conscientiously act, the usual first date second date I don't know what even.
My interests, my problems. Your advice, your plans.
In sync.
I don't know where to go from here,
I just hope it keeps on going.

Some days are hard.
I wake up with weeds growing in my chest,
rooting me to the bed beneath me. They are
chains, constrictions on my breathing and the
butterflies in my stomach, and those moments
remind me that I have never felt more caged
than I do right now.
There are picket fences in my ribs, sporting
chipped paint and broken wood, and I find it
comforting that something is as damaged and
destroyed as I am. I do not cry. I have not cried
for six years and yet every time you look at me,
I feel the tear drops pool in my lungs, drowning
me with romanticized suicide and bleach. You left
me for alcohol and cigarette butts and I think that
is what hurts the most. Every third degree burn on
your arm takes away a part of me, stripping me
of my own ambitions and identity. I do not find comfort
in the fact that this is what you have always wanted.
I sit on a swing that is older than my veins and I wait
for you to come. You do not, and I do not cry.

Oh, how we strut about the world
We, the civilized population
Unsatisfied until we've unfurled
Blankets of our cultivation

How proud we are of the machines
That gauge and plunder the earths crust
To farm by artificial means
Deemed by the "uncivilized" as unjust

The "uncivilized", those wayward tribes
That naively worship this blue globe
Need alcohol and such like prescribed
To adjust malfunctioning temporal lobes

Can they not observe our contentment
And our superior living standard
They squat and rant with some resentment
We are progressive, they have meandered

I wonder when those of tribal birth
Will mature and see we've got it right
And that their unkempt patch of earth
Will make a fine farm or building site

Or better still, once they're packing
Up their dwellings and  possessions
We can begin some civilised fracking
With our governmental concessions

That's what separates us from them
I hope you have now realised
It is a government controlled by business
That makes us so very civilized