I know I won’t be here forever,
and I am just wasting away,
watching politician playing their games,
play acting outrage while preventing change.

There is a no place for my face
that shifts and distorts from the pain
that I am forced to witness over and over again.

I’m not the cleverest
but stating facts makes me feel like
I’m trying to scale Mt. Everest
while screaming against the bitterest winds,
like I am going to have to watch all of my friends
slip off the top and drop nonstop
until our whole civilization ends.

I’m just dressing my heartbreak up in
stark sparkling words meant to
amuse and enlighten all of you,
until the same fate catches up to me to,
and my legacy disintegrates
with the rest of the human race.

"It's just another guy"
so you say; still you're spoken for
But who's to say a guy won't at least try

"It's just another guy"
so you say, that cracks you up by
a glass of fragile jokes cutting me by your response,
We'd both be jealous of the other making you smile

"It's just another guy"
so you say, when he licks his lips
Lubricating his lies, like I did to convince you
I wasn't jealous,- you still noticed something was amiss

"It's just another guy"
so you say, as you pretend to be friends
It all starts like that, a friendly compliment here
and there, the same way I said it when we started as friends

"It's just another guy"
so you say, till I also become just another guy
I'm told I'm overdramatic, in over my head,
but when you fall in love with someone else
Would you ask him or me why

"It's just another guy"
so you say, and I'm just a dog acting ******
Still a dog marks his territory, and if I marked
you with my heart; I did so with aim, to not miss
on making you my Miss

"It's just another guy"
so you say, but you can still treat a day like ****
Wasting your time talking about him,
as I fake a ****** smile that makes me feel like ****

The truth is,
I was once just another guy that stole
you first, from just another guy
And karma is a mistress that works in a cycle,
and I'm forced to comply to her this second time

I will only do this once
Walk down Pudsey Hill late one night
Admiring the stars
After seeing friends.
Walk anywhere one specific time
Or admire a particular glorious sunset
Every one being unique
In its blend of beautiful reds, blues, purples
And other hues.

So we have to make the most of Now
Be mindful indeed,
For there will be a time
When we can sense no more.

Mortality is certain.
Even the very plants are living on soil
Made from the remains of their ancestors.
And we eat the plants
And eat eaters of the plants.
Ashes to ashes indeed.
You know the rest.

But green living things live on
Making oxygen
For those yet to germinate and grow
Or be born.
Winter is soon followed by Spring.
Destruction by Creation.
An almost endless cycle
In the ***** of Mother Earth.

Paul Butters

© PB 9\8\2023.

They say it is a silent killer
but I have never heard a din so loud as the chemicals consume my brain
the voices in my head screaming for more
coercing my conscience

"just one, wait, that wasn't enough, a little more.. just a little more"

over and over
the cycle repeats
again and again

My heart is racing
my body is numb
I exhale
all the hurt
all the haunting memories
gone

over and over
the cycle repeats
again and again

"just one, wait, that wasn't enough, a little more.. just a little more"

It’s like I’m slipping in slow motion
I’m the only one who can notice it now
But eventually I’ll fall
My gut tells me to grasp at the straws
I planted to steady me
But their roots are shallow
And stalks are withered
And when I reach up they brush past
My fingers and our connection fails
And I
F
    A
          L
               L
I fall too fast in slow motion
For anyone to help
And all this time
I felt it inside
Knowing somethings wrong
And I said nothing

The night I spoke a charm and you collapsed,
The seas were burning bright to seize the storm.
My love was thrown into the ground of lust;
It was exhumed as soon as it was born.

The boomerang came back and hit my face;
Went all around, and saw the street of darkness.
It has become a sort of race and chase,
In which the only one to judge is Madness.

I threw it back again in hopes of change;
The wind blew back and forth but never Right.
As blue skies grew into a twisted cage,
The vicious cycle left its mark tonight.

And months pass by, so I am here to heal,
By writing on this sheet as true as steel.

Blank walls, spackled
And clean, yet empty.
Stretch out your weary arms;
Feel the numbness in your fingers.
A can of paint, a brush, and a pan -
Colors bleeding from the shape of your mind.

Take a deep breath,
Feet flat on the ground,
And open your eyes.
You can remake yourself.
Paint the walls.


Blank walls, spackled.