Hell is this house.

Your phone calls
dropping at 4 am
like bomb blasts.

Your perfume,
like a refugee,
living between
my messy
bed sheets.

Your stuff,
strategically forgotten,
in every **** corner.

Each room a minefield.
Each drawer a thread.

I finally finish packing up the last boxes.
Load them in my car.
Close the front door.
Turn the engine on.
Leave.
See you waving from the rear-view mirror.

And when it comes to her.
She leaves little to no room for any moment to be occupied by something else.
Even with that being said. It still feels like there isn't enough time in the day.
No matter what happens.
I'll always remember how it feels.
The stroke of her cheek against mine.
Trapped together in a cardboard box.
Frame by each corner.
A genuine box. Wrapped tightly in the gentle caress of arms.
It seemed like a good idea. Provoking each other's silliness.
Considering how attached we were, it really seemed like a good idea.
No special paper, no gift wrap.
Just scrunched up faces in a small space. Trying to figure out how to tape ourselves in.
Postage stamps sealed to the side.
In deep thought wondering where we'd end up next.
If only we could keep one flap closed while one of us taped us in.
I suppose it would be easier if we brought tickets and boarded a plane.
But wheres the fun in that.
Mailing ourselves away for a day or two
Realizing that the best things in life are free

I know you're crazy.
I know I'm mad.
But I know that we're happy,
So is it so bad?

I know that it's wrong,
I know that you warned me.
But I know that I like it,
So is truly abhorring?

I know there are limits.
I know there's a line.
But I know that I crossed it,
And I'm doing fine.

Path trended and passed
In silence they weep and act
Aisle after aisle a memory sung
Trespassed as eventful melody

Spears of death sink inwards
Body trembles as it fades away
A belong to the bare soiled ground
As the whispers of the wind evaporate

I lost my shoes, my clothes all torn
Blended in moulded formed horns
Knees crashed on the pebbles
I recite my said and unsaid repentance

The bricks, blocks and boxes boast
Rising above the past I long lost
As the heat rise, they make passion
A traction, the subtractions,a surmise

The sunrise once bright disappears
The lens clogged in blurry vision
A bird within flutters and mutters
Drifty as the phone once held slide

Out of reach, out of touch, outer tours
Over sensed danger, the blackened day
Liberated in clear skies,unclouded reforms
The pounded bells echoes lullabies of calm

Damaged good are always on sale
In every store, whether resale or retail
No one wants something that’s broken down
Except for when they see that certain person walking around town.
She is shattered and mangled, but not on the surface
A beautiful sight, her eyes lit like a furnace.
She sells herself, but not for ***
What’s given away is more complex.
The idea of being wanted is too far gone,
Like her dignity which left her for so long.
So she lives her life always seeming distraught,
But really it’s only because of her thoughts.
They consume her mind and swallow her whole,
And every day it takes its toll.
She is worn and broken, and it’s clear to see
What once was so beautiful, wild, and free
Is now in the past, she can’t help but reminisce
The days that were once so grand and full of bliss.
She gave up when she gazed in the mirror,
Seeing what couldn’t be any clearer.
She’s still the same person that she once was,
Except now she’s in the prison which does
Consume her mind, her heart, and intent
For her sins she feels she must repent.
Her past is one that no one would yearn,
And to this day the thought still burns.
If not for that single mistake
Then to this day his heart wouldn’t have a break.
She sold herself, but nothing is new
For it has happened to all of us a time or two.
We sell ourselves short in all that we do,
But what we must remember is that there are very few
People in this world that remain pure and true.
All the rest are damaged at best,
And in the end it’s what separates them from the rest.
I discount myself, but I will never be sold
On any ideas that I have ever been told.
When I get put down, what people don’t realize is that I have already found
The worst critic on this planet, the one sitting down
Writing this poem and filling your thoughts,
Making you feel like that damaged box.

These words you speak
These words you spin
Have infinite meaning
A definitive substance
Inject my mind
Flipping the norm
Unravel all the lies
They fed to us


Unlock my mind, unwind my eyes
Take me out of this boxes, boxes
Erecting all around me
Untwist my tongue, deject my terms
Pull me out of the sinking crane
Piloting all around me

Who gives the ****?
Just give me a fact
All 7 billions souls unique
This linear life is meaningless
Fictions to act
One day I am frog the next a beauty

The mystery of the dark
All shrugged in blanks
They say its locked in your head
A crazy existence
Dehumanised to decay
The police can’t even help

I wiped away every memory you left me with,
as I printed the messages like you wrote me letters,
sealed them in in envelopes,
but boxes marked incinerate,

I waded through knee deep snow,
carrying a box full of memories while wearing some I couldn't let go,
I removed your sweater off my back and created a fire from the tear stained sleeves,
I burned the rest with the box, and cried over the memories that couldn't go away,

I lay down into the snow, holding onto your memories that went too deep,
crying because I can't remember some of the things you did with my body,
crying because I honestly wouldn't wanna know.
like as if  crying would honestly allow me to let go,

you used to tell me things like how I didn't have to worry about my makeup,
or how I didn't have to worry about everyone,
and how you told me you loved me despite my flaws,
like the ones covered over my whole body,

and yet you tricked me,
so I'd let you in,
I was weak and you hurt me,
you don't deserve me,

but who would deserve me,
other than you,
you ruined me,
and I'm the fool.

I deal with my
problems by
forcing them
into small boxes
for easy storage.