The guns won.
Humanity lost.

The love we thought we all shared,
Shattered and the shards pierced our eyes.
The dead wanted to stay dead,
But those who are slaughtered from the soul
Want all of us to be that way too.

Hollow
Dry
Hungry
Loveless.

On this day, I don't even want to pray.
I have seen what religion does to people.

It's not a War that's brewing,
It's a force field:
One that hides us from each other,
One that forbids communication.

We are a confused people.
Painting our false faces won't help.
And now,
I don't know what will.

It took so long to fall in love
Finally starting to trust again
Feeling these Feelings
Not known to men

But as great as it sounds
As soon it is over
When we both realise it
Because we get sober

I'm on the outskirts of hope looking in;
my hand strangling the head of a lantern.
Liquid wax bubbles into descent.
Midnight rain in 1782 Blackburn.
The breath of a behemoth breaks wind.
It reaches past distance and into my skin.

I am a loser
I never do anything right
It's always bad luck
I lose every fight

I'll never win
I'll never learn
There is no money
I'll ever earn

We conquer foul play caused by past discrepancies
Somewhere along the chart, hearts sink into the sand
Scars caused by burned skin never change their shape
Even when nursed back to health, they still hold the same print.
The pleasure that you speak of is too far in the distance,
All moves are read with a cautious eye
Feelings cannot be talked off the overhanging ledge
The fire of pain cannot be put out inside.

Roads do not just lay out paths before us,
They form partings of what was once a unified land.
Promised deliveries are only distractions
So the forbidden can again be secretly admired.
Why does the bond have to be evolved?
Why does it have to mean coexist as the separate?
We all live lives so solitary and curious
Where there is always a bit left on the side.

Hopeless and heartless is what we are left with
The more we go on the less we can hold onto in pride.
Call the delivery man for food, love and friendship
When we are done we tell him to go on and drive.
All feels like an existence in a video game
Where all the lights are made to be blinding
Same pages may exist but
How they are read is never beloved again.

Red wine and ugly tears,
breaking the chains you left on me.
Your heaven,
my hell.
You’ll be the death of me,
if I don’t break free.

The burns on my skin,
remind me of your monstrous sins.
Torched and confused,
with my love for you.
The farther I get,
the more I feel,
chill from you voice,
keeps me still.

Fake smiles hide tears,
make up conceals the truth.
These chains wont break,
keeping me in my place.
My life slips away,
empty eyes are all that remain.

How would it be
In a world without hate
We will never know
**** Society

Monkeys staring at the eyeballs in our heads
The forced rope ties tighter and pops out the vein
The process takes a moment but no more than a feather being blown
Sun beams now highlight the velvet hour.

Sand castles keep the sand man guarded and safe
In return, we have another day swallowed by the unaccomplished.
Spirited with a medical remedy
Lovers say a happy goodnight to the days ahead.

String haired figurines on the walls form the decor in this doll house
The rooms sit back to back but remain mostly vacant.
She dances around the room and tries on the attire
Forming the platform for our intimate silent exchange.

The chair pulls down and gravity makes its move
Maps form plans to be affiliated with a higher member
But with refusal, we can sit and add wood to an internal stove
Write stories noticed by no-one living in elegant designed routine.

They say its madness that gets you in the end.

*I dont think I agree!

The black dog is on my doorstep, he insists that he needs a drink.
Footprints are already impounded on all followed pavements.
The cake is poisoned with the stories of the greater mans word.
Eat it and your fate is within their wrist flicking reach.
End results and the finishings of situations
Are already determined beyond personal effect.
How many men are in your army? How many would have my back?

There is a man on a chair holding the club of master dimensions
I can see how he wants to play with my intents.
They force the doors shut blocking a sky that is taught to be blue
So we miss that it was turning green through foreign effects.

The black dog is on the doorstep, he insists that he needs some help
I stand on the zipline, looking over the city and the laid out maps.
If I was to say the sky was blue,
My hand you would shake and praise intellect.
If the same sky was deemed to be green,
Soldiers would be notified to create laws to control the insanity paradox.

The same man on the chair, dictates with a definitive howl,
I can see there is no room for small whistles or whispers.
The slammed door will not open despite my best efforts.
There is no way when there is one of me pushing one way and ten men pushing back.

The corridors are long with no diversions
The way in which we walk is already known,
Turn and go back will only hinder distance covered
Forward progression burns through the heart.
Whoever watching, why do we lose both ways?
Can we even rise over all the soul piercing strategies?
Take each step for money to be earned
Lose every shred of integrity, or stand still, be kind and wither
into a background number dissolving into the wallpaper of the inoffensive.
The corridor is long, it gets darker and less enticing
The way in which i walk is almost robotic in tone.
The choice to turn back is an illusion believed to exist
but i am unconvinced of this option anymore.
Hide or be hid, the choice is there to be made,
No footprint is allowed to influence, unless the influence is seen to
add to what our leaders have printed in notes.