Everyday
she watches him
her eyes stuck
becoming a role model
for the glue of his shoes
the glue  he practically pours on
it's trying to hold all those pieces together
the pieces falling like crushed leaves from a set of hands
it knew it had a job to do
like a mother trying to hold her family together
she doesn't have enough arms to reach out to every person who needs holding
to work her 9 to 5
to pay the bills
to take care of her parents
one of whom has forgotten her name
to pretend that her marriage is fine...
for the kids sake.
the kids who watch her sulking eyes on the way to daycare
and yes she's been told that only ****** mother's put their kids in
          daycare
but that's all she can do
so shut up
just shut up

it's like the high school girl
trying to hold her heart together
it's been broken...
like the shoes
the ones on the boys feet

time is the only present I need, yet it flees.
like the blowing sand once in the ancient Egypt wind,
vanishing into the nothingness, along with the nose of the sphinx.
gone into the vastness, the mono coloured canvas.
every second I lament the last,
the unreturnable past,
the fragments of time that fled my grasp,
I hate, oh, alas.

The rifts of life mends itself anew,
but always flawed, a tiny crack remains.
never visible to the fleshy eyes
forever there, it quietly hides.
until another fissure gaps wide open
slowly, slowly it'll fix itself again,
but how many scars can a frail heart bear,
until it breaks, and can't be repaired?

Hollow abyss of the deep cliff, into the distance the moon shines bright
wind caressing the fresh green grass, festive fireflies.
beating against the rocks below, white bubbles arise,
darkened spots in the starry sky, the end is to arrive.

Depression, depression
I have depression.
Of course I'm just kidding.
I don't have depression.
I bury my feelings,
beneath my exterior.
You think this is serious,
but this is about glue.

Her hair smelled of roses, her body curvy in places.
We've been together for months, a destination was set.

I arrived at her house, it was all quiet
Her parents had left us all by ourselves

I unbuckled my pants, she pulled down her *******.
It was standing *****, my glue stick was ready.

I grabbed hold of my stick, and she grabbed hers.
Wait, what?
My girlfriend's a dude?

Perhaps it is time, I return to my roots.
Abandoned the topic, never let it bear fruits.
I have grown thin, my feet unfit for its boots.
But linger no longer, I shall return to my roots.

The clockwork gears begin to spin and words connect.
The cobwebs severed, time repairs the neglect.
The pieces of the puzzle slowly conjoin, my pencil *****,
I write down my lines, my latest project.

You know me as glue or Glueboi if preferred.
I know what you think, poems about glue are quite absurd.
But the line between glue and my soul has become blurred.
Gears are in motion, I've returned to my roots, no need to reword.

My effort is rewarded, the project is complete.
A poem about glue that no other poet can beat.
A poem which will be welcomed into the halls of the elite.
My victory tastes oh so sweet.

My anticipation rises, a chance to share with the world once more.
My magnum opus will be shared, my dark world will grow brighter.
It spreads its wings and soars.

Father, apparently I am the glue man.
When people mention me, that's all they know.
If given the chance, I would've ran
but my shoes are covered in glue, making me slow.
I never asked to be the glue man,
my life slowly loses its meaning.

Mother, remember how I mentioned I was a glue man?
To be honest, I consider myself more of a glue boy.
You aren't here anymore though you always had a plan.
I wonder if these poems about glue are starting to annoy?
I never asked to be the glue man,
my life no longer has meaning.

Do I even have anyone to speak to?
To remind that I'm the glue man?
The only thing left to do is chug my glue.
It'll take me back, back before it all began.
I never asked to be the glue man,
my existance never really mattered.