We fill up our lives
We can’t stand the thought of emptiness
We look at others who seem satisfied
So we fill up our lives
With our screens
We spend our days mesmerized by that vibrant glow
With money
Working days on end to be richer, bigger, fancier
With clothes
Walking around so we can receive shallow attention
And when we realize this is how we get rid of the emptiness
Think
How full are you really?

She is the girl that speaks
             upon  no ventures.
She only gazes with the sorrows
                            that graze your heart..

Feeding her own discontent.
                     And when she seeds the shallow fields
of your mind.

Only her reflections grow
             showing you the seeds
of not your sorrow
but the flowers of jealousy
                           blooming deep within her.

Perhaps I should have
Kept my big mouth shut
Perhaps I should have
Never said “Yeah But”

Perhaps I should have
Put all things aside
Perhaps I should have
Just swallowed my pride

Perhaps I should have
Opened up my ears
Perhaps I should have
Listened to your tears

Perhaps I should have
Seen the tears you cried
Perhaps I should have
Just swallowed my pride

Perhaps I should have
Been more sensitive
Perhaps I should have
Had advice to give

Perhaps I should have
Put ego aside
Perhaps I should have
Just swallowed my pride

Perhaps I should have
Held you by the hand
Perhaps I should have
Been a bigger man

Perhaps I should have
Stood right by your side
Perhaps I should have
Just swallowed my pride

Perhaps I should have
Told you “Don’t worry”
Perhaps I should have
Told you “I’m sorry”

Perhaps I should have
Admitted I lied
Perhaps I should have
Just swallowed my pride

My Monday morning walk into the door’ll
manifest a girl who has me questioning any aforementioned morals

Watch her wiggle past,
her little figure sending ripples through the store
catching eyes with simple gestures she won’t think about

Core shaken
Mind taken just before
I can collect and reset
Keep my cool and restore
The composure I project
Refuse to let the shallow
Sections of my thoughts
Invade and settle over
Work I should be doing
to ***

I know it’s ******* to portray poetic images of depth within myself
While at the same time
I pine over the darling like a Barbie on a shelf
Because I barely said a word to her

Before in my mind I undressed and ******* her

And it’s lines like that
Flaring through to self awareness
when they hit the page
Caging what I say in hallow careless little quips about how much of myself that I’m embarrassed
That leave me ill prepared to change cuz I can’t bare it
And she’s a carrot on a stick I guess
I’ll parrot my stresses to myself and bury it
Let the sensations arising
Around the new addition dull or deplete when testing
Her personality shows she likes to eat babies or listen to future or something equally detesting.

But **** new chicks got a nice ***
Which I’m sure she’s never heard and wants to hear
From me or strangers when they see her
To watch her steer is just confusing
Like... How the hell do you stand is all I’m saying
Clearly your center of gravity
Has to be six inches further back than the average mans
But I digress again
All I wanna say is I'm not an awful person
At least I don't think.
I think I need a drink.

All the ways I try to fill the void
Seem to make me empty

Funny how shallow needs
Create a shallow soul

Step in the warm sea,
Sit still in the shallow parts...
You'd never swim deep.

Sometimes, I am a paper girl.
I look in the mirror
To judge my blotches and creases-
I am a pale, thin tissue
That bows to the howling wind
Transparent for anyone who cares enough to look.

If you like pretty pictures, I'm the one for you-
A roll of film scratching laughs
On curious cinema screens
That could run into infinity
Just to fuel your smile.

I soak up your messes willingly:
All the colours that bleed and mix
To form the specks of sadness
In your eyes at 10.p.m
And the grass stains that roll
Down your bare gypsy feet
And the sunflower seeds
That stick to your inky lashes-
These things give an echo of the flavour
I miss.

I am vain
I regularly conjure up poetry on my skin-
Do not give me yours.
I will recite it to my last paper breath
So I can kid myself that paper is power.

I am not the phantom you teach to play piano
Under the helter-skelter moon,
I am far too fragile for that-
My paper cut fingers bend
And bleed light all over the keys.

My hands are a canvas
For anyone's ***** details
For if enough titles are painted on my body then perhaps
I will learn the complex trick
Of gaining depth

And maybe the world will look as full
And real as I read in books
And dance with in music
And maybe my edges will stop being ripped
Or my corners cut
Or my pages burned and tossed aside.

Sometimes, I am this tiny
Vulnerable
Origami creature
And my cream card bones tremble like feathers
A bad caricature of life.

Sometimes I am full of wonder-

But right now, I am this.

I'm nothing but a silenced laugh,
I breath fire smells a fantasy bougainville,
I speak cursed sounds a soothing lullaby,
Honey, I'm your foe, and you know me as amigo,
I'm bleeding of lies, betrayal–a vicious sinner,
And this skin-deep will last until you realize,
I'm a ****** retaliation dressed in devotion.