I often wander past her gallows
And feel a sympathetic twinge
At glints of sun on growing rifts
I long to hear her sing

My fingers itch to hold the mallet
Molded to her brazen form
A tongue, once ripped from quiet lips
It rests, with ears, unworn

If treasured glance is counted higher
Than the purest ringing note
Then may she hang still, gagged in silence
“To Liberty!”, I quote

I didn’t want to miss out
                        I love going to parties

So this is my attempt
                        To find some new friends

I’ll try my best
                        I’m a shy extrovert

It’s a poetic challenge
                       Words and people I love

Dear Diary;
Does not drinking
half a bottle of gin
make me more or
less fun at parties?
On second thoughts,
don't answer that.

The music is blaring
Like the drum of
My heart.

Isn't it strange?
To be surrounded
By people
Yet feel drowned
In loneliness?

I grab a
Drink
Swallow and
Feel the sting
That gets me drunk
on
The feeling of
Nothingness.

A blurred
Voice
Calls for me.
It's slurred speech's
Making my
Nerves calm.

I grab it
Tightly
And follow it home
Never
To be seen
Again.

Alone...
Whether I'm in a crowded room,
                                        or alone with you....
                                                          It never seems to be enough...
I guess it shouldn't bother me as much,
                                                           ­ this feeling of loneliness...
I'd grown all too familiar with it growing up...
Never fitting in,
       always the one being left out of parties and social gatherings....
This feeling of loneliness is something I'd grown accustomed to,
                     but i never expected to feel it from you....
I thought you'd be different,
      I know how much your gaming means to you and I get that,
                                                           ­                                         I really do...
I just need someone...
Someone who's always going to be there,
                                                            sure­ there'll be distractions,
      but nothing that's so self emerging and addicting that in that moment and time nothing else matters but winning...
I just need that constant reassurance,
                                       that you're not going anywhere,
                                                       ­                            that I'm ok...
All i want is to be ok..... Not Alone......
        I want, no, I crave that comfort, like a warm blanket and cozy socks,
       curled up at a window to watch the rain as it pours down outside...
God I feel so alone.....

I don’t know what to make of this. The half-naked Russian model rupturing in the tub, one hand rubbing salt from her habit of weakness, another clutched a swill of wine. Her pill-loaded lover, always blurring. Both too young to bear the death poem of lullabies. In another room, in another town, a redhead stranger sits soaking next to me, governing my drunk body back to senses with her mouth. Outside, a gaggle of youths perch the water’s edge, lapping beer from a spillage of shadows. Soon, they’ll beat their wings madly and rush the night air, running on nothing but ***, *****, and lace. Giddy and octane. I won’t know what to do with it or make of it, still, years later in life… an even more ragged crackpot, taking potshots at poems.