Never tell me you'll love me if you just end up disappearing on me
Never tell me all the pain you've faced if we couldn't face them together
Never tell me you won't hurt me if you'll leave me regretting everything
Never tell me you're here for me when you hardly see what I'm saying with my eyes
Never tell me to keep my promises if all you do is break every promise you made
Never tell me to love you unconditionally if you give conditions to your love
Never tell me you'll be my sun if you're the darkness that has no ending
Never tell me you're sorry if you keep doing everything you apologize for time after time
Never tell me you are my everything if all you do is take everything precious to me
Never tell me you're complicated if you think all i do is complicate things
Never tell me you feel alone if all you do is push me farther and farther
Never tell me you know me when you don't know the conversations i have in the dark
Never tell me all you did for me if all you did was make hate the time i wasted
Never tell me you tried your best if your best meant doing nothing
Never tell me you'll the fix the pieces if all you did was make smaller pieces
Never tell me anything ..Never tell me lies

Havisham’s hands are ******
with the half-squeezed heart
blackened by falsity,
like thick red paint,
her crackling fingertips
keep moulding something invincible;
the permanence of lying.

Altars still stand
after the apocalypse,
registry books torn
to become cigarette papers;
the ash of everything
and a child,
painting the phoenix
onto the acid soil,
until the core coils into chainmail.

The echoes of the innocent
make pews into death row,
where the absence of a void
ruminates, glitching, triumphant;
wedding dresses at funerals
brush away the humid dew
of unmown grass,
as the softness of forgetfulness
crowns each grave eternal.

Havisham’s hands are made of soot,
the woman as the pyre,
long-since engulfed
in bitterness;
one lie creating a fragile universe.
Greek chorus repeating
minor rites
until the dead phoenix
dies again,
and only the smoke
of lie-infested letters
rises.

I trust and believe
that the words of others
are truth and law;
we’ve always been standing
on unequal ground here -
forever on this titanic plane.

The crowd of everyone
and the universal singularity:
me.

You say whatever
and I say okay;
I say I’m drowning
and you say
you’re waiting for something
in the water,
to pop up and tip the scales.

When you knock on my flesh
I tear open a door
for you,
let you worm inside
and deposit your truths
under my skin;
let them grow like parasites
within me,
festering in septicaemia.

With my rotting body
like sea-soaked decks
at the bottom of the ocean,
I’m asking you to validate
the fact that I am becoming the decaying waters
and swallowing the boat,
because you made me
this way - and I?

I am somewhere in the picture, too.

Clenching my lies within my fists
I stand prominent,
forcing the pressure of weightlessness
onto them until they crack;
opening up like wounds,
drenching the tips of my fingers
in venom and lava.

Their acid burn
seeps into the cuts in my skin
from times I have fought this before;
an unyielding inevitability
soaks the marrow of my bones
as I stand – defender and defenceless,
my fists still closed, un-bloomed.

Primed to punch, my stance is unyielding,
as if my body and throat are at war
between the truth and the other;
head lolling in despair
at who I have become
and what I am holding.

The way out is the way in
and I’m looping,
rolling down a hill in a memorial summer,
catching myself at the bottom
and finding it to be the ash-sky;
continually Catherine-wheeling
through remnants of other iterations
of this inevitability.
We always end up here.
We always end up
here.

Sometimes blurred hopes lie behind
scintillating eyes.

Hey, 2020, praying person, what do you pray,
I saw you praying,
what were you saying,
how do you do
this
thing
called prayer, is it easy, is it hard, is there a right way,
is there a wrong?
H'lafwearden, teach us to pray. Must you beg?

-- I would that ye should pray unceasingly.\
-- imagine that, as a kid,
-- six years into being.
-- Thy will.
-- Be done, at your service, my
command, learn, recite, learn, recite, learn re

after ever learning truth expands,
we can never catch ever resting
in peace.

Sunday school or Hebrew school or Madrassa
literate
people of the book, look, look
a word
to the wise
is enough, you can we what you claim to be
and we shall see,
we shall.
Show yourselves lovers of wisdom and truth and
no lie,
the self evident truth will be your witness.

Define you, and truth shall form the you you wish.
OOPs,
2020 tech, do-overs, set to auto. Imagine better,
not good,
better,
aim at completion,
just better, each time, live to the end,

sleep and rise, expecting to recall all you ever needed
to finish this one
day,
before, facing dawn, once more.

Look away
Tell yourself what you want
That it isn't what you think
The lies we tell
To make yourself feel better
To turn yourself away
If there's anything you think
The lies we tell
If there's a will
You will find a way
Or so
The lies we tell
What is the last thought
Before you are true
To yourself
Or is that just
The lies we tell

Does your boyfriend do all these thing that I do for you?
Treat you the way I treat you ?"
It was clear why he was asking,
Everyone wants to look better than their opponent.

Then a moment of silence slipped in,
And a flash back of nothing swept by...
Those were all the memories I had with my boyfriend.

"He probably will also change when he has me,
right now he just wants to be the better man"...
I told myself.

"Of course!
He treats me well...
He even does more than I could ever ask for"... I lie.

If he had paid more attention,
He could have spotted my hesitation.
If he had paid more attention,
He could have known I needed a hug.

He could have notice the cry for help
Behind my smile.
That I wanted him to try harder.
I wanted him to convince me...
So I could know i was worth a fight.

But sadly he backed down,
Turn his back away,
And has never looked.
And I can't run after him.
All am left with is the promise I made to my lover.
And the thought of "what could have been"