I’m overthinking,
tired of the endless waiting,
about to blow up.

Even my mom sees it.
She starts some cutting remark
only to pull it back.

Me: "Argh! I have this anger, just below the surface."
My brother: "Uhh, it's not that far below the surface."

Do these small stupid griefs

In relation to those who’ve lost relations
Count anymore?

My litany of the blues
Baby, periwinkle, teal, Robins egg, sky

Even indigo

Haven’t the weight of, depth of
Cobalt, slate, cerulean, flint, smoke, navy.

Lead.

My alchemy chest, empty

The weight of fog, heavy breath
Less expansive, slow filling

A pound of fathers, lighter then
a pound of dead birds,
becomes hard to hold, still

as the volume grows.

crawling into a crevice
to call home
a cave in the side of a hill
carved out long ago
eons before i was conceived

bedding underneath the rocky ceiling
that fire gives way with a tango
of flames bouncing here and fro
dancing all over

nationalism
interesting concept

it gives me eyes
yet constricts my vision
it cuts to the root, precision
a careful incision

distill patroticism
bathe in schism
schism of the past
no victory every lasts

build rafts
pay tribute to the past
but build the ******* rafts
appreciate your ancestors craft
but realise patrioticism is relative
we all have a past

It’s been a long time since my heart has soared.
The days flickering by.
Rolling through the channels trying to find something new.
Alan Watts plays in the back-screaming LIFE.
My girlfriend says, "baby, just get in the car."
Sitting in the passenger seat heading to wherever next.
Your face shines through rear view mirror.
A smirk of goodbye.
******* out to the sky.
Screaming, “what is life after this?”
Holding onto eachother like there’s no life left to grasp.
This is my sign that life does get better after this.
The world is closed but our hearts open in a 24-hour vacancy.
She says, “do you remember when we first met?”
Apple blossoms and moon shine between her lips.
A taste of something I miss.
Her red stained lips traced the rim of her cup.
Yelling at the bar “I just can’t get enough”.
Her foot stomping at the bar stool.
Just one more song please.
Just one more dance.
Just one more moment.
& we keep grasping for those old moments.
A reminder to us that life is our last call.

You tell me you love me
(No one loves me)
You tell me people care
(I am alone)
You say I am beautiful
(I am ugly)
You tell me it gets better
(It won’t)

I never believe you that it gets better
But it always does

trembling roars make timber
shiver by the bank

and Beanpole stands contemplating
he'd be doing the right thing for the wrong reasons

I find
I do not know
what to think

Despite thinking,
A contradiction I know,
That I know my own mind

I am a walking contradiction
I’m pretty but I’m not
I’m thin but I’m not
I’m happy but I’m not

I’m a filthy halfbreed
The in-between
Half Slytherin, half Hufflepuff
Wondering where it all went wrong

It didn’t go wrong, as such
But perhaps just awry

I’m wondering how
I found myself here

Nice boyfriend
Nice parents
Nice life
Boring, but nice

How did I find myself
Being bored all the time?

I’m thoroughly capable
But a perfectionist too
If I can’t do it first time
It goes on the pile
Of things I can’t do

I expect
One day
I’ll get over this phase
But it could just be
The way that I am

Nice, but boring
Not good at much
But not bad at much
average, standard, middling

I’m stuck in the middle
With no way
Up or down