Make way for the bees.
There's too much to say.
Love once and forever.
Bleed out the day.

More happy than sense.
The future divide.
Between a man and his friends.
For him and his bride.

Low cost, low manage.
And family safe.
Party and make merry.
For our new home today.

Couples of fame.
Lovers of vice.
Homes that were broken, parents that fight.

But no bad ending and no fallout.
No lovers spat, no bad flake out.
It could be true love or it could not be.
But I've been left here for an eternity.

And so, she pervades and steals my friends.
And my disgust to her attends.
Blame me, or their crossed stars above.
But I blame the forgetful feeling known as love.

As she lays down in a state of bliss,
It's only after the reality hits.
She's harbouring life inside where her demons resides,
She can't afford but she won't abort; she will save a life.

What is life if happiness isn't part of the equation?
How do we validate and justify our questions and frustrations.
Is allowing life saving life? Because in happiness life resides,
She can't afford but she won't abort; she will save a life.

She's now a Mother of some standard,
Equivocally she tries and **** those demons inside her.
Her daughter finds no joy in the mother who's smile lays no happiness,
Her laugh croaked with the remanence of a pied piper.
With no food or knowledge to consume she will surely be laid to doom,
Because her Mother died as the demon who consumed her wore her skin like a prize.

Giving life isn't saving life,
Because happiness is where life resides.

The continued repression
      of the id's desired pleasure
Will lead to the death
      of some poor *******

Boredom is the number one adversary
for a man's well-being
Even before the alcohol
                             coke
                             heron
                             ******
                             ******
                             gambling
                             and good women
The Morning Star only challenged god
because Heaven was uneventful
He was well ahead of his time
A perfect world can only exist when
there's an opposing force
Even the mice know that

My fingers carry sick,  
My teeth – unbrushed and dry.  
I dream of one more lick.
Then my heart begins to cry.  

I contemplate capitulation,  
As I no longer wish to rise.  
I’ll survive with bed and basin,
and eternally wet eyes.  

She is never satisfied,  
With mind, body, or action.  
I try to take health in my stride -  
Not long now till she gains attraction.

If I’m lucky, I’ll last a week,
Of normal, human, nutrition.  
Then her greed will peak,  
Binging and purging are my only actions.  

She’ll tell me that my escape lies in restriction,
“You must fast a little, Darling...”
I can thrive with that addiction.  
She’s talked me into starving.  

Before I know it, the cycle has returned.  
Yet again, a ***** covered slave.  
I wish to die, unharmed.  
As this demon will never behave.

Officially,
the calendar now marks
that it's been over a year
since I've last had your taste.
I should be proud
of myself
- and I am -
but more so, I am
surrounded by frustration.

I cannot write code like I used to.
Neither can I
find the words to write poetry
like I used to.
With you,
my creativity and passion
came effortlessly:
like turning on a tap
from which the essence
flowed,
whenever I took
my next hit.

Now, it's been
over a year from you;
and the passion from which
you robbed me of
is starting to come back.

I refuse to let
my memories of you
taint
that which I love.

My subdued passion
for programming,
video games,
and literature
shall not be dull forever.

With every new moon
that passes,
the fog in the mirror
continues to fade,
as my reflection
becomes clear.

And with it,
I feel (more than anything)
the ambition
that which you stole from me
ever-so-slowly return.

I so desperately
searched for my soul
while in your grasp.
Clouded by your embrace,
I lost myself,
and saw only the image you painted
in the mirror.

In time I will find myself again.
Fully.

One year clean
is something to celebrate.

To this day, I don’t know
If what I really wanted was to leave and just let go
Or if I was just scared of the speed of the flow
What feels like yesterday, is a million years ago
I wonder if I’m just a coward
People always saw me as strong and hard
But now, I’m crying alone in the dark
Maybe, I’m just human or maybe just a fraud

Outside, I’m an unbreakable wall
No words, no stones could ever make me fall
But that’s just what they saw
Inside, the pain has taken it’s toll

The cuts I have is not seen with the eyes
It’s buried deep in my chest, cold as ice
I chisel them out of the cold when I write
It’s messed up I know, but it’s my vice

No matter what you think, I don’t care
Because emptiness is something I can’t bear
I’d rather be hurt and pay the fare
It makes me feel alive, I swear

You were late.
So late that I had given up on you
but when I first saw you extinguishing a smoke in the struggling grass
I knew it was you
and I called your name
and this was my first glimpse of you,
fumbling to hide your vices,
hair springing around your face
like a thousand little Slinkies
yearning to get free.

You were late.
So late that I had given up on you
on the 7th floor of a hospital,
my first hospital,
we sat outside and fumbled with our vices
and you told me it was over,
two kids ****** into the murky pond of
ADULT ISSUES,
neither one of us did our job very well
and all my fellow patients kept telling me how pretty you were that night.

You were late.
At 21 you were too late to save me
but I never gave up on you.
Forgiveness is an unfaithful mistress
and I look back and sigh,
remembering the ease with which I hated you.

You are late.
I am still waiting.
I am waiting.