Spilled pill pieces
like crushed up Reese’s
I found my thesis;
in an empty stomach.
I formed some habits,
they reproduced like rabbits
and if I couldn’t stab it
I’d try to make it plumbic.
Decide to destroy at any cost,
I can’t hide or play coy; I’m my final boss.

I’m so messed up that I used to enjoy the battle;
while I lost, I lost to myself so I’d win.
Lamb to slaughter but too much guilt for the cattle,
maybe a sort of pacification that we can begin.
No cheat codes for this game we play.
All we sow is the seeds for another day.

Blurry scenes
and forgotten dreams,
no ends to a means,
but it started quite simple.
It began with quiet sighs
and tired bagged eyes
my grin would rise
but it seems I lost my dimples.
I was stumbling and swaying yet so lost,
fumbling while playing; I’m my final boss.

I was so messed up that I used to enjoy the game;
while I lost, I lost to myself all the same.
There’s no contra code and no extra lives,
no easy mode, no new game plus to replay twice.
No cheat codes for this game we play.
I keep wishing I could pause, wishing I could just stay.

There’s no save spot in sight,
no shrine and no campfire.
My hands gripping on so tight
my mind and my eyes tire.
I wished to be the hero of time,
always scared that I’d become a Ganon.
It took some work but my Zelda’s mine
I hope that ending stays canon.
But life is something that can’t be cheated,
destiny can’t ever be defeated.

He was my hero,
But it wasn't for him to rescue me.

-anoeska

They fell; faster than spring leaves, off the family tree.
Dear uncle. Dear mom. Why me? Why you?
We smiled --moments ago-- legitimate and calm and free
Glittering health during the plague, how not true.

Smiles of hopelessness, tears of hope,
lying living, half in life, tombstone carved in your eyes
You brought hope, you liar, how then do we cope?
In truth, did you know? Or faked your shine for true smiles.

Yes you're gone, now we need healing
Our hearts stabbed by your last smile and hasty departure.
It all changed but it somehow remained the same
Into the dust lies thine stature, lies thine of stature.

I'll hang on to the echoes of your voice,
Your face from the mind's flashing window's glimpse,
Your touch from showering echoes of noise
From then when I became undone, like opened gifts.

The only imperfection is the mirror.
The only way the reflection is the same
is if you believe it.

Saint George is an englishman
Who never came to England
Born in ancient Turkey
Fighting for the Romans

Saint George is an englishman
Who never met a dragon
Willing to be martyred
Killed for saintly passions

Saint George is an englishman
Adopted as our own
Our nation full of mongrels
Imports a classic hero

Being a hero,

still thoroughly despised --


for some bad manners.