i want to peel off
all my skin
out of punishment
for knowing it was once
touched by you.

tear away
bit by bit its memories
out of jealousy
that you’re gone
and it remains.

i will then
hastily tape it back
piece by piece
the only remaining artifice
of your earthly exploration.

it will be ugly-
it is ugly.
without your touch-
it is useless.

you tell me things
I don't need to know,
sure yeah I'm over him
but I don't care about
knowing him anymore.
I've finally let go
I moved on
finally.
I know you guys are like family,
but him and I aren't.
after so long he's out
of my head.
Please don't bring him back,
my energy won't
be taken by him
anymore.
I made peace with our goodbye,
but that doesn't mean
I've fully healed

The building they lived in,
called home,
became their tomb,
became the weapon that broke
their bone,
took their lives.

But their stories have to
survive,
This City won't let you forget
about those
you were meant to protect.

I was actually looking for a room
but found myself
on the fiery streets
CRS batting the flames
as politicians took their seats,
business as usual
but the people stood in refusal
Feminists Familes and BlackBlok
Yellow Jackets Housing Groups
round the clock
only the holiday period
could douse the fires
and I went back to mother
the pressure smothered

How long is your attention?
Remember: this is a poem for the dead

For those who were crushed as they slept in their bed

Merry ******* Christmas
instead.

He called me, “Assassin,”
And peered into my piercing blues.
                     I called him “Collateral damage,”
                     And watched my mark maunder blindly out the door.

When I try to control
people and things
with power
and forceful measures
I experience frustration, sorrow and suffering.

When I accept
the situations Destiny has brought me,
and strive to discover opportunities
to be joyful and happy
within these situations,
and strive to discover opportunities
to improve these situations
to increase my joy and happiness,
then I experience joy and happiness.

Frustrations of the Sad Sack.

From the blows of a feisty distress I ache ,
An insane spin of pain,
Inflated of a pungent vapour
my lungs turn a mouldy grey
In the repugnant heats of my anger and regrets.
Burning agony
In the most tender patches,

Though my voice makes no sound,
My noisy countenance tells it all in a disturbing loudness,
I call up the innermost parts from their ease ,
Call to the deepness of subconscious ponder,
If there be any superliminal faculty to see out my salvation
From this piling debris of dead ends.

I sleep and wake
To lend late night gazes on the mirror only to ask,
Should I have done it in the blinding blackness of the breezy shadows?
Or better in the perching heat of the brightness of a million suns?
O Whatever! , would it have mattered anyway?
Who cares?
For every motive of mine is ripped in cold blood.
The struggle with self is ******,
My flesh faints, my muscles slacken
I can't stand more of this losing debate.
I'm running out of steam
I've lost control,
My ego comes tumbling in an ugly splatter.
My fumbling reasoning has become ill-fated,
I think in wrong directions,
Mileages that clip me off into pits of no return.

I regret that I always have had to regret it all,
Perhaps someday not so far,
Heavens will care for my ever fresh tears,
To curse and toss my frustration to the basements of hell,
For mischief calls me by name,
But in that day I will cease from his memory
To be called by a new name ,