we think from opposite sides of the bed and dance around the idea of us, but it'll only make things harder because we use each other on nights where ****** **** and cheap liquor aren't enough to keep us from tearing apart. so instead we tear off our clothes and pretend nothing is wrong, pretend we don't want this to be more complicated, pretend we don't want us, pretend we're both not falling apart

but we are and you feel it too, but what happens when one of us doesn't? we both lose a friend and a lover at the same time and i don't know what i'll do without you in my life so i keep a distance and we try not to complicate things but we already fell in love before any of this happened, we never had meaningless no-strings-attached ***, the strings were attached and you knew it too. but we pressed on as if nothing was about to go awry. this was inevitable.

you and i used to tell each other the world, we used to say everything that was in our minds but what's on our minds now is too heavy a weight to bear on two broken-souled teenagers who just wanted something simple. we never asked to fall in love. we started from the wrong end of a relationship, there's no turning back and we can't start over. it's time we stopped pretending.

i roll over to your side of the bed. you wrap your arms around me and pull me in so tightly i wonder if we're fused together. we both refuse to acknowledge our feelings. we pretend it's platonic, the way you kiss me on the forehead, the way i hold your hand, the way we look at each other. for a moment we look into each other's eyes and consider our feelings, but we look away and you pull me in closer. we stay like that, listening to the raindrops on your bedroom window and longing for each other even with my head against your chest.

I still reference you in conversations.
I still smell your flannels.
I wonder how soft your hair is today.
I kiss the walls of the shower just to hear the same pop our lips would make.
I wish I had endless pictures of your collar bones and eyes.
I wish I had endless access to your thighs and chest and that dot on your neck.
When I *** I say your name.
Your voice recordings aren't the same.  I want you to call and put me to sleep with your breath and I want this all without the repercussions.

I want you to be my friend.
And I want the benefit of you being my lover again.

I can see it in the way you look at me
And sense it in the way
You try to comfort me
The longing that you hold
And words left untold

I know your body from
Being compelled, caught up in a moment
I know your lips from
Alcohol taking over the the blood in our veins
And still I see the negative, caught up with strains

Your feelings pressuring me
Questioning my own idea
Of why I find warmth in solitude
And struggle accepting the idea of something new
If it was with anyone, it would be you

I let you give it all up
Leaving it to die-
Leaving you thinking it was all you
With thoughts of you clouding my dreams
You were always unsure where you stood
When the truth is you were always too good

Sustenance for friends and clients;
state your case – come one, come all.
The matron arms of Social Service
will not let you fall.

Food stamps make our nation stronger,
licked, then stuck on the public roll.
Social programs last much longer
adding recipients on the dole…

Like the Ephesian Diana
many are my benefits!
Mine the matriarchal manna;
latch and suckle at my teats.

Yours the client’s right to nurture.
Mother will supply your need;
Child, you must not fear the future –
feed, my baby, feed.

Call me nanny, call me Lord
just make sure you’re calling on me.
Mine are the gifts you can afford
they’re taxpayer-funded, worry-free!

Once you are latched I’ll keep it flowing
like an intravenous habit.
Keep that ****** situated
where your will can never grab it

Let it never cross your mind
that there’s an end to all lactation.
Cloward-Piven have refined
this titillation.

Love me.  Need me.  I’m the State.
Your well-being is my affair.
With your consent I’ll dominate,
because I care.

We do what we do and we do it again,
Then we go back to just being friends,
At least no hearts will break
No tears will be wasted
Nothing at stake
No love will turn into hatred

Committed to no commitment
Clothes off, feelings ghost
Using each other,
Till we overdose

I’m…
Sitting in my flat,
To my couch I am thatched,
Kyle’s yelling,
He keeps telling,
Me to,
Get a job,
Like walk straight into one,
I get slightly indignant,
That it’s easier said than done,
He points it out,
So his main demographic
Don’t switch off en-masse,
Ending his quasi-infographic
Combination of hot air and bad gas
Mr. Kyle’s relatable,
He makes an effort
So unlike certain Eton educated conservative western capitalistic illuminati slaves,
He’s not hateable.

SO, my now easily distracted mind turns to Mr.C,
The way his policies A.K.A BEDROOM TAX negatively impact me
The way he forces me into obvious and obnoxious modern day slavery
Through way of a work programme
How he has decided that I need to experience real life life,
Through legislation and universal credit,
Credible implication to make the poorest poorer because they have the gall to spend it

SO my rhyming thought full of tangents
Must now come to end
As the tangent I have accomplished
Is impossible to defend.

Maybe I need to remember that when you make my back arch and I moan, does not mean you want to set up home.
And just because I make you hard and you want more, does not mean I'm going to link you at your yard.
Let's get this in perspective cause maybe just maybe our wires are getting crossed.
This is getting a bit hazy and I'm getting a bit lost.
If you want to **** me, then tell me how it is, cause I can't be believing it's more and thinking "oh I'll be his".
Don't you dare kiss and cuddle me in your bed, when all you wanna do is give me the D and get some good head.
See for women kissing is a passion, a representation of feeling.
So when you kiss me that's when I start believing.
Now *** is more animalistic and when you pull my hair and slap me, I can start to be a bit more realistic.
I can start to see this is all you need and when I'm gone there is more women you want to breed.
But that's fine just don't text me with "hey babe how is your day?" and "I was just wondering if you wanted to stay?".
Cause that's when miscommunication starts to appear and those feelings arise like I was beginning to fear.
I'm beginning to believe that *** is passion, that's why italians are so good at it just like their fashion.
And I can't put up with this meaningless ***, I want love and friendship like I had with my ex.
So this is goodbye to you all, now there is no *** let's see if you call.