But a small shift in the earth
Can cause unforseen circumstances
So deviating from what you should do,
My friend,
Will make your future uncertain

Think about the risk you run
Before you run for the reward

if life is like a box of chocolates
and i will never know what i’ll get,
how long do i have to await
the poisoned one?

or is every piece filled
with a little bit of poison
that takes eighty years to ****
or seventy five
or tomorrow
or today.

you ever wake up at 6 am on a holiday
and try to force yourself back to sleep?
bur your body just refuses and insists
to slouch into the arms of your mind
the arms of your mind that keep you
in shackles of an uncertain next second
what if a bomb goes off
what if an earthquake happens
what if that plane in the sky i hear crashes into my window
what if my neighbours die
what if someone is murdered in front of my eyes
what if what if what if
this uncertain next second is certain
to be the cradle i lay in as i take my last breath
will you say goodbye?
or will you walk by like you’ve always done?

will you fulfill the hunger at the pit of my stomach?
will you play my favourite songs at my funeral?
(will there even be a funeral?
do you know my favourite songs?)

this uncertain next second will sing me to slumber
and shake me awake at 6 am on a holiday
remind me of my 2 am poetry
and put my body in your hands to carry.

Det skræmmer mig
at jeg ikke længere har følelsen af kontrol
Alt er usikkert
og min fremtid ligger i hans hænder

You were right to say that
everything is uncertain,
But how can I believe when there is assurance in my want?
I'm certain my hands will lose themselves next to yours. My fingers tracing the air, drawing your face from memory.
My mouth will feel parched from being close to yours. Lusting over our lust.
I am uncertain whether time is on our side
or if all this is on loan.
You are bound to be snatched. I cannot claim you,
own you, if you do not let me.
Let me keep you
within the bounds of what I know.

I love cool colours and warm feelings.
What he gave me was
the exact opposite; he was cold most of the time
and he took me places under the sunshine
just a little bit too much.
I rarely hold his hands
but at least they’re warm.
What I didn’t know was
his hands are warm from holding
many other girls' hands
just a little bit too tight.

He was always full of uncertainty.
I was never sure what is coming next,
like it could be winning a lottery
or a car crash
and there was no in between
when it comes to him.

Gal?
Pal?
Wait, what now?
How?

Bound to get some questions from this, some hate; a backlash. The funny side of this is my middle name can basically be a backslash.

Some will say I don't have to mention.
Others will say I'm doing it for attention.

I'm doing it because I don't know.
I'm putting my confusion fully on show.
Whoohoo! Yippie! Let's go!

I don't have to be shy.
So what? Sometimes, I feel pretty much, like a guy
Perhaps, the majority will stigmatise.
For you see, my gender does not fit into a pretty little box, at least not in society’s eyes

I shall grace the, with my misery.
Eluding certainty of attraction.
Stirring the ***, of everything sought,
After I poison myself in humilitys fashion.

I shall consume thy concoction;
Devouring all that delights,
Whilst keeping my soul
And my heart, out of sight.

I may claw at my throat,
From the poisonous notes.
Grasping for air, claiming life isn't fair,
To avoid the one certain truth,
I'm the only cause, of despair.

Late night drives
always help me think
the farther away from home I get
the further I see in to my future
dazzling lights
blur on the speckled windscreen
then starburst through the dust
I can never seem to get off my specs

Don't wanna turn around
not feeling the need to go back
the closer I get to home
the more memories that come back
of a life I've lived, of one
I could never get on track
the road is wet I should slow down

The steering wheel my punching bag
my microphone, my audience
a place to rest my head when I'm sad
empty seats are empty
just like empty me without the envy
and
I can't see the street signs
'*** I don't care to

I sit in the park
With nothing
But a coffee and the paper
Around me are platano trees
It's fall.
And the colors glow in the sun.

Yellow, and orange, but abscent is red.
What a wonderful oddity.

I finish the paper and the coffee
Still I sit.
The bench grips my wool shirt,
Each fiber tangled in pine
The smell of the grass
Fills my lungs and makes me whole

The sun shines down on me
And promises warmth.
A fountain whispers sweetly
And I feel complete.

However.
I know the sun will go down.
The fountain turns off at nine
I've been down this road
Ten different times
And my humble aboad
Just might be better.

I sit uneasy.
But which will best?
The wooden bench and it's sweet caress?
Or my stable home where I am alone?

As a matter of fact
How did I get here?
How did I end up on this bench?
How did...

A woman in red approaches me.
"Hello" she says.