Life.
Death.
Its amazing how words
so simple.
so ordinary.
so usual.
can have the impact of thousands.

“i’m fine..”
She whispered,
Ignoring the blood seeping from her wrists,
Trying oh so desperately to hide it,
From prying eyes.

She knows nobody will care,
She knows she doesn’t matter,
Not anymore,
Not since they threw her out,
Like an old toy that they got bored of.

They watch as she hurts herself,
Doing nothing except taking pictures.
Hashtag, We miss you. Hashtag, Why didn’t anyone help her.

Nobody ever helps..They just watch as we cry out in horror and pain.

Acknowledged
The mans dream
It's what makes a man seam
He is completed
If not acknowledged an artist feels deleted
Somewhat cheated
If acknowledged your emptiness is depleted
Just don't be too conceited

Despite being alive 26 years--
I didn't start dancing until last year.

Sure, I'd been to my fair share
of blackout tequila & whisky parties at university
or went on many an adventure
sneaking into movie theaters
with a fellow once considered a Friend,
but part of me knew the truth--
these were not my dances.

The endless whisky bottle songs
first sang to me by dear 'ol pops
would serenade my subconscious,
a kind of absurd fuel pushing me
through a place where something felt like a picture in frame
just slightly askew.

Even the *** felt white-toast bland.
Might as well of crammed McDonalds into my mouth
saving much emotional confusion, & a little cash.

I lived vicariously through this Friend;
a maudlin flame who kept drowning
in his own sticky tar lovesick abyss
anytime he met a woman.
He was a writer,
he stopped going to university.
I  was too terrified to do so,
but subconsciously that is what I craved,
hence the thirsty Thursdays and wine down Wednesdays.

I didn't start living until last year
because the thought of financial security
was installed into my self by the parents.
Figured I was doing this advertising thing
as a way to write so I could write what I want as a part-time hobby,
like stamps.  

But my artist's heart kept beating
a 5/4 jazz rhythm in my body.
With the help of a wondrous doe-eyed pixie gypsy,
I learned to dance with it.
Had to empty my pockets
of friends and flasks
& open my mind to the time
of the cosmos
& dance.