Hell is this house.

Your phone calls
dropping at 4 am
like bomb blasts.

Your perfume,
like a refugee,
living between
my messy
bed sheets.

Your stuff,
strategically forgotten,
in every **** corner.

Each room a minefield.
Each drawer a thread.

I finally finish packing up the last boxes.
Load them in my car.
Close the front door.
Turn the engine on.
Leave.
See you waving from the rear-view mirror.

Please don't log in here.
Our walls are our heart's war zones.
No casualties, please.

By Arcassin Burnham


Never shy from the drama but I'd rather take the new pacifist
Route,
Guts and glory , not sorry for all the things that you've lost
When you deal without,
I'm so stuck up with changing people's point of views , it's a waste
Even in itself,
I got no room for people in the past that brought me hatred , you
Get no help,

             So tell me what's on your mind right now,
             Do you wanna run from home,
             You wanna be on your own,
             Escaping through warzones,
             Your dad left you alone,
             Is your pedestal so high for life to move on,
             So your thinking now that you're really fit for the throne,
             If anything....
            
I've recollected the bad memories and learned from everything I've
Been through,
There's no freedom , no courtesy and no light , every man wanna be
The best dude,
Saying what's on mind cause the fight will begin like the preparation
Of life,
I was lost but God found me in a sea of sins , time to make it right.

My head is a warzone in itself.
Sometimes there's no victors.
Sometimes there is.
I hate to convince myself that i must confide
A amoeba that's restricting me so i can abide
There's no true purpose in where i hide
And taking unnecessary sides
I just want something tasty on my side
Nothing too dazzling
But that's exactly how i describe myself
And i want to run it away
Not so it can come back another day
I tend to be vociferous
And it irritates me
Why can i have a mind that entices the thought and not berate it?
I feel disjointed, jaded
Far from elated
Somehow my reinforcements become instant vaporization
Nothing adds up to a stimulation
What was i put here for?
To quarrel, to entrench myself with misery?
I need something to distract
Keep me in humble tact
Busy
As a bee
But i don't want to sting
Or the frivolous bling
Why can't i figure it out?
Nobody can for me
As easy as that pleases the ear
I must adhere
To my own belligerent madness
And find some sanity in it
It's a unembellishing feeling.

In the trench alone.
when will I go home?
From No mans land I hear another moan.
surely, he will not go home.
Mans fight to the death.
"Please come home" our nearest say under their breath.
Blood turns the mud red.
How many more boys and men will go home dead?
A moments silence.
Bird song.
A trickling stream.
It's just a dream.
Mustard gas!
Barbed wire!
Gun fire!
In the trench alone.
When will I go home?

Nigel the soldier
Shoulders big as boulders
Up over the top
Tried not to stop
Tripped on some wire
Dodged all gun fire
Jumped back up again
Then it started to rain
Got to the other side
In one giant stride
Took some enemy out
They began to shout
Nowhere else to go
In a place he didn't know
Nigel the brave
Resting forever in an unmarked grave