The hate you keep inside won’t help you float.
But you cling to it, so below you.

Push it under you, to get above the waves.
But eventually the swell will drag you to hell.

Cling to it so below you.
It’s weight will stretch your arms.
Drag you down.

Down into the undertow. Against progress.
So vile, repugnant and insipid. You rot.
Your fingernails leave scars on hate.
You cling to it so.
But shout opposed to such accusation.

Now low enough the crash of the waves blind you.
Squinting through their spray, you struggle.
Treading in denial as you try to pull your hate to breast.

I’d reach out to you, if your hate wouldn’t drag us down together.
And we’d be clinging to something so below you.

--I wish I gave this to you, I wish you would read this, and if fate would have it, you would. I wish these feelings would not still be true, but they are, and maybe... just maybe yours might still be, but it's been so long. Too long, but here it is--

Don't go, my Belle

I feel the atoms vibrating within my body
and named it your sweet touch
I see the stars, when your lips intertwine
in a silky embrace with mine

I cannot lose it, I love you too much
Forgive all my flaws, it's not a crush
I promise you, for in all my life
I'll find a way, for you to be my wife

I know that for if we'd be torn apart
The angels would weep
and I'd be cursed with no sleep

You are like my *******
and always stuck in my brain
Yet the thought of you keeps me sane;
So please, let's just go kiss in the rain
I'll take the demons from your brain

Baby let me hold you, and keep you safe
I'll fill, your blank half, to the grave
I'll always make you feel alright
never again, will we fight

I love the way you look in red,
and I love, you choose black instead
I love your nails, coloured blue
I love your "I love you"
I love it that your socks are green,
and your room is never clean.
oh baby I love you
and everything you do

Baby please... oh please don't go
for to live without you, I don't know
and when the rain calms
I'll hold you tightly in my arms

I'll hold you until we're grey
I just don't hope you'll ever say
I don't love you anymore

The news broke into his place
when he was less prepared.
It entered through the window

like a common thief
took that which was most precious:
all his future dreams,

far and dark
in the mystical place of the deep.
It hurts

as if you squeezed the ice-skating rink
frozen he goes,
undetectable to the eye.

Commuting next to you,
in 25 D, from Banbury to Birmingham,
for him, is not a breeze.

I write, deep ache inside.
I cry, not knowing why.
I sleep, one more pill.
I drink, just want a thrill.
I read, not to feel alone.
I eat, not to reach my bones.
I dream, fed up of my life.
I quit, one more time.
I smoke, feet leave the ground.
I fly, elevated mind resounds.
I apologize, failed again.
I fall, wish to be dead.

I was always told my hair texture was bad.
So here comes the white cream.
The white cream is chemical hell.
I can smell it as I write this.
As I got older I realized the white cream took out more than my curls and coils that the Man upstairs scribbled for me.
It took away my temple hairs. It took my chances of having hair past my shoulders.
But the white cream never took my curiosity.
My never ending curiosity of what I would look like if the white cream never took my real hair from me.
My real hair, which was, is, and never will be “bad.”

My life is filled with bad habits

                I don’t have the energy to break

We talk about change whether it's good or bad
We talk about our dreams and things we wish we had.
We talk about our days.
We talk about our wives.
We talk about everything we hate in our lives.
We talk about things that never happened in bed, and yet for all the things we say, we can never seem to talk about what's really going on in our heads