Never ask a poet what they think
about the things that matter.
They will not give a definite answer
for their hearts tend to ache
somewhat too severely
and even then some things
are better left unsaid
unfinished
in a black and white world
where any shade of grey is a crime
somewhere over the rainbow
in a place where it is the safest
to not be there at all
or else you are certainly the one to blame
even if the lace is buried deep within
your overwhelming guilt and shame
hidden under all the what ifs and pleats
and somewhere deeper yet
there is the quietest of voices
too afraid to speak of the bruises
left on the inside of her thighs
and within her heart
the voice of reason that tells you
please don’t walk down that alley
keep your friends close
and the keys in your hand closer
keep your head up high
and your hopes down low
or whatever else makes sense
in this dog eat dog world
where everything you will ever know
will be shredded and recycled
oh, if only
to be crushed into a pulp
and spoon-fed to another generation
diluted with careful consideration
into a day-in day-out nine to five
not even a cog in the machine
a ***** at best
and you will be *******
tightened up more and more
until you can’t hold it together
and whatever it takes
falls apart into pieces
broken glass on the asphalt
a hole in the wall
that sinking feeling
where a soul should be
but the angels don’t visit anymore
or answer our prayers
the line is always busy
there is always something else
something more important
a bullet in the bible
escalating into emergency
but who is out there for the unarmed boy
dying on the sidewalk
misjudged for the colour of his skin
who is out there to stop the hand of a father
suspended in mid-air
with the children cowering at his feet
who is out there for the American dream
turning into a global nightmare
who can tell the pending future
staring down the barrel of the gun
wondering which side you should be on
and what of that which you call freedom
only to trade it for martyrdom
what of candour and justice
and their antonymous nature
what of the artists and the poets
and everyone else that took a shot
but didn’t even come close
living in a daydream
playing from the same broken record
telling us that there is meaning
and there is worth in the things we do
except that from time to time
the needle would skip
distorting the vision
and at times like these
it’s the easiest to look away
for every scratch on the surface of reality
encourages you simply to
pull the trigger

No.
I will not, I refuse
to let this get the best of me.
The pen is a blade. I slit my wrist
and pour my heart out onto the page
instead. This is a sacrifice
I am willing to make.
I will tear myself apart
on my own terms.
If I cannot do it myself,
who else will?

here i am sitting down thinking of the past
trying so hard to hold on, make the memory last
just looking around, trying to repeat "it's cool"
but i know that i'm just fortune's fool
looking around people look all the same
wondering what is the world, it's all a shame
the world has gone dark since when I was young
so many words unsaid, like songs unsung
i wish it could be like it was back then
now it seems the world is full of evil men
just listen to music, make yourself confined
I mean look around you, there's nothing to find
our eyes forgot what it's like to cry
make the heart stiff,of how hard we try
our body often compared to a temple
all the words to make us feel mental
here i am standing in the rain
its the only thing making me sane
done waiting for things to be great
because i'm already tired of my fate
ever get sick and tired, of being sick and tired?
your body and routine like a robot, always wired
think of all the people that you met
how each had there own way to make you upset
just here to wait for the bitter end
rather don't speak, you don't want to offend
like a ****** waiting for her next customer to have "fun"
ashamed, so use to the feeling she  waits patiently for it to be done
so welcome to our world where no one gives a ....
if your trying to enjoy it then i wish you the best of luck

I'm a cherub but i'm far
From innocent
But even my somewhat prepared self
Was far from ready for this.

We met and she made her intentions clear.
Over some drinks at a bar
"I just got out of a relationship and I need
Someone to take my mind off it, think you're up for the job?"

I was shocked at her brutal honesty
So I nodded in agreement
Hoping that maybe, just maybe
I don't wander too far off the deep end
With her this evening...

Lately when you’ve looked at the Facebook chat bar, you’ve noticed names that you haven’t spoken to in a long time.
As if Facebook knows what has happened and is saying “Look! Other people exist in the world! You had a past before all of this.”
Too soon, Facebook.
Even memories excluding him somehow manage to involve him all the same.
You spent 5 years in Toronto, and only at the tail end did you two learn each other and find a love that was ******* brilliant.
And now Toronto is a landmine.
U of T is tarnished and bleak.
The ROM, the TTC,
Every quaint and adorable breakfast cafe, Mexican eatery, Starbucks.
Tragic.
And **** Queen’s Park.
And **** High Park.
**** dog parks too because maybe at some point you walked past one together.
And the bookstore.
Never again.
You loved that bookstore
(it brought you him).
And death to bubble tea, and 0 calorie vitamin water.
(No one should ever experience the misfortune of 0 calorie vitamin water, but it’s a memory, so it hurts).
And **** board game cafes. Even though the only game you actually managed to finish was Jenga.
But that’s because you were falling for him and you would rather talk for hours than look away from his face to read too-long instructions.
Catan could wait.
A different world ago you suffered in a city too congested for the likes of your small-town spirit.
And somehow you found life there.
Would have gone back there.
And he will never know.