You’ve come to my rescue many a time.

But not in the way you might think.

Yes, you do help me in the typical way.

Pulling me up before I sink.

But it’s all the small things you do for me.

The accidental things, that only I see.

That really mean the most to me.

Kind gestures with no intent or agenda.

It’s just who you are, my defender.

You see, the sweet things that you do and say.

They rescue me every day.

can't be bothered
to lift my feet
I drag along, the empty street

my head throbs
my body aches
my eyes open, I'm not awake

always tired
can't sleep
sometimes I, forget to eat

this life I live
has me exhausted
my own agenda, has me hostage

She pipped
a gypper
when she
was arterial
motion that
favor law
not crap
in our
legislature while
her isolation
in craft
are the
same families
with Getty
on Thanksgiving
if Serengeti
whir machine

My mind is empty, passive, yet filled with chaos from the past.

Afraid to feel again, to give in.

Scared this is another trap.

What can I give him that no one else can? Why me?

Is there another hidden agenda?

I can't resist his words, yet they scare me to death.

It's like a love song I wanna play on repeat,
but still wishing that the record would break.

Before I do.

I've decided to stop reading the news
It's full of contradiction and misinterpreted views,
Bending of truths like a novelists muse
Inciting inspiration, stimulation, radicalisation but, never the truth of the situation
Just a public announcement of the wrong account, a miscommunication or fake revelation
Is it an attempt at entertainment?
Lacking empathy, a cold report with no sympathy
Of death, disaster and misery
Attacking humanity
As they relish at the world flying in to abyss
I can't be alone wishing we would all hug and kiss
So, instead I've turned to poetry, where theres no need to encourage, provoke or lie
For words of poem can reach the sky, you cant deny
My interpretation is all I need to see
Where thoughts can wander, minds can ponder
I never need to wonder, if what's written is fact or fiction
As a poet spilling his heart on paper, writing fast, creating friction
He goes to war with every etching
Of love and emotion of pain of gain
It's truer than the mirror in which you see your face
It reads like silk and flows like lace
Spilling over with generosity, leaving a genuine taste
Whether of love or hate, faith or sin
It's come from within where only truth can win

At the table sat a prawn, a fish, a glass of water, and a watch.
All trying to figure out who had the best hand.
Two out of three games already played.
Tension drawn on all of their faces.
The fish twitches at the river, caught in thought eying the glass of water.
The prawn in constant panic. Eying the fish.
Stuck in the same predicament as the fish. Winning a much larger *** the last hand played.
The fish much larger than he. The prawn folded his hand.
The glass of water over-thinking the endless possibilities of both the prawn and the fish.
Sweat dripping down the side.
The watch on the other hand, had the best poker face of them all.
As time reveals everyones true intentions.
Revealing a slew of faces