it's ironic how love is a tender thing yet it feels so heavy when it comes to you. i love you in sighs heaving out on my lips. i love you in glances i take when you're out the door. i love you as i swallow lumps that form in my throat. i love you the most in the smallest gestures of your actions, when you absently thread your fingers between your hair, when your tongue ran over from one corner of your lips to the other, when you squint your eyes when you read details in small font. i love you silently. i love you with distance i will never know how to minimize. i love you in ways in which you don't pay attention, in moments when your thoughts wander as you stare into an empty space. maybe that's why even though you're close, you're still so far away because i keep saying that i love you in inaudible whispers until they form a love letter in the back of my mind, hoping you could read it someday.

lord help me!
no answer.
Lord, he hurts me!
Silence.
Lord, take my soul!
Silence.
Lord, I want to **** myself!
no answer.
First, the bible went.
Then the cross necklace.
Everything had to go.
I needed help.
Need help,
but where are you?
God, the savior of all,
the hero.
Where are you?
Because I've looked long and hard,
hoping to finally see my salvation.
But,
no.
No one came as I was choked.
You didn't come when I was being tortured.
You stayed in heaven,
while I was living my own hell.
I did everything you wanted me to do.
I stayed faithful,
giving my testimony,
following your word.
But you let me down.
You always have.
"god loves his children"
No.
I thought I was a child of god.
Apparently not.
Because I am still here.
Inside the house of harm.
Inside the house of sin.
Evil lives here.
Before you tell me,
"don't give up,
I will come through,
it is just a trial"
answer me this,
where were you then,
and where are you
NOW?

i am sitting here at 3 am
confronting the empty side of my bed
my thoughts hold me hostage
to create a cage
that i will not be able to escape

i try to play dead
until they leave me alone
i try to shift shapes
for a hope they might leave
i try lighting a candle
for flicks of light to cast
the darkness away
but i soon begin to realize
that im not afraid of the dark

i cant get out of bed
my thoughts are holding me hostage
im at a place i dont want to be at
and can not leave
the sound of loneliness slowly begins to deafen me
the silver ray of moon is almost blinding me

all that i see through the reflection of my glass
are the bones of a hollow body, just like silver, starting to rust

and here i speak to my thoughts
that i have surrendered to their thoughtless plots
they ring my ears, with demands
to give up my soul to their filthy hands

i stumble as i try to stand up
i am as weak as a sedated body ready to be cut
my knees tremble like magnets
attached to no other but my bed
they repel any movement to stand up straight

panic fills my fearful cup
my gaze shifts to my reflection
and i see the ghost
of forgotten remains of someone who
has lost

i do not want to die
i deserve more
than being ended by no other than my filthy thoughts
i force my eyes open and smash the reflection with both my fists
adrenaline painfully waking my body up
with every ounce i have left
i try to detach myself from my bed
i am peeling layers off
and have never been in more pain
but it is all worth the pain
for i wont fail myself again
to become forgotten ruins
of a life-time faded into a blank sheet

there is more to my story
than just an empty bed
for i will not be manipulated
by my own self again
even if it shall be 3 a.m again

What does it take to smile and say
Everything is okay?
I've learned it's easier
To hide and fade into darkness
And be reminded that "this is hopeless"
Than to fight

There is more fear hidden within us
Then there is within us wanting to fight
All that we have inside us will still
Push our happiness into a frown

I have fought to get to where I am
Yet every time I get myself out,
I am pushed back again
I fight and push to get up out of the darkness
Just to go back to where I began

A dream is dead, only work remains.
No splendid deeds of creative worth;
or even ones of pure mediocrity.
So bury my mind and body
in the dirt.
I may still be living;
but my mind's inert.

Goodbye pen, paper,
notes and words.
My spirit is
Split and burned.

I was a fool to
think I'd ever be
more than a fool.

Goodbye; This life
grows too cool.

i'm sick to death of this stinking routine
perpetual day time TV,
petty bickering
afternoon pub binges
hopeless job hunting morons everywhere,
i return to my hometown
to the place i was made, molded
created
and it suffocates me like never before
i think of the many reasons i left
they circle my thoughts for a long while
and then i'm left with one
one that overrides the lot
it takes a while to spit it out
because it's corny, it's stupid, it's not how we work
but
it's love
and the lack of it
the love here is in the mundane
the easy,
the norm.
it's not in the heart
the love around here lies in
television sets
and pirate DVDs
reduced chicken and new coffee machines
gambles on abused horses
saturday afternoons in the local
cheap holidays to Benidorm
a day trip to lidl
a weekday evening watching the soaps
a phonecall to a family member you don't care about
hours playing candy crush
the love has lost on us humans
the love here, it was lost on me too
it missed me out
they missed me out
it has instead transferred in this
reality tv, selfie indulgent zeitgeist
it has left our silly bodies
and i'm still clinging on
trying to dissapear from that
new century bubble
trying to pick up pieces
of that porcelain mosaic
that old style bric a brac
so long ago forgotten
pressure is everywhere
notifications beep
this tiny block of perspex
waiting to be touched
waiting to be in communication
with someone at the other side of the city
the other side of the world
oh what a sad existence
when all we love is through the inanimate
and not ourselves
but hey thats the way of the world
and we have to accept it
or hate it
because we can't do both
we have to accept our fast paced tumultuous society
always moving through space and time
at times, difficult
painful
hard
sore
but consumerism, capitalism and cronyism
it all exists in this big society
this 'we're all in it together' society
and it cant be ignored.

Tragedy is spectator sport.
No extra fee is needed.
The equipment never changes.
And there always seems to be matches to linger around.
Screams and taunts can be heard from the sidelines.
Almost always is the advice.
Wrong.
Yet no move is made to rid them.
Blood stains the bout in rhythmic circles.
Etched in over time.
For the paces rarely alter.
Blows are exchanged recklessly.
And the crowds lust for suffering elevates.
Slowly as the two cease in a stalemate of self loathing.
The mob moves on to the next victims to sate the everlasting hunger.
A hopeless unanimous decions.
Humanity.
Zero.