No words
slip from my tongue.
No words
emerge from my fingertips
as they race across the keyboard.
No words
spill from my mind,
trace the recesses of my brain,
leave my lips with the taste of butterscotch.
I have traveled far and wide,
from one pole to the other
then so far west I'm back in the east,
but I still have no words.
No words
to describe this feeling,
the one at the back of my throat every time I speak,
the one tingling at my fingertips whenever I press them against the keys,
the ones zigzagging my mind from dawn to dusk and even after that.
No words
to describe the tightness of my chest,
whether from the way she tucks her hair behind her ear
or the weight of today on my shoulders.
The thoughts --
I chase them, but they always slip away
just as I can feel them in my grasp.
No words, no thoughts, no way
to finish this poem
not when it's ever-flowing, ever-growing, ever-changing, ever-there.

Everywhere I look tonight
Somebody in pain
Somebody trying to run away
Somebody just wanting to be touched
Somebody just wanting to be seen

Take a pill
Make the pain go away
Take a drag of this
Let the memories slip away
In the clouds of smoke
Take a sip of this
Numb the feelings I can’t deal with
Dance until I drop
Fake it til I make it
Go talk to them
A warm body melts the loneliness away
Turn the music up
So I don’t have to hear my thoughts.

Why do you sing this song with me?
Whilst you sharpen your teeth
before you sink them into your flesh
and dance like a drunken fool.
You close your eyes and colour your eyes
with old bittersweet memories.
My words, your words, their words,
like sharp needles pierce skin, and
colour skin with your fears.

Tell me why do you sing this song?
I wait in your shadow,
grasp life from your breath.
l await your tears,
my old friend.

Society is a being,
A breathing, living thing,
It’s skin is always cold,
It does not wish to let me be known,
For it needs me to fulfill its will,
But I want to abandon it so,
For it’s claws are deeply rooted
Into my fragile skin,
It does not care if I bleed,
But I cannot find myself in leave, for
It’d tear me terribly thin.
Freedom is an indifferent escape away,
But until one jumps, all will stay,
And so I will live out the same day,
Over and over again,
Thus is the wail of the proletariat,
Living as undying strays.

how wonderful
would it be
to be able to skin myself alive
to drop the weary leather that holds my bones together
and miss a few days, months
years
in the span of a night