I've been meaning to write you, but my words are all too stuck in their ways. They wish to be spoken and long to be felt, but to be honest they all lack virtue. All they can do now is hurt you.

Drenched in dopamine
These words swim within
Gasping for air  
They plead for solace
In the jungle of thought  
They inhale agony
And exhale apathy  
They are jaded implicitly
These words
I secretly imprisoned
Still inconvenience me
They ******* my heart
Despite their innocence
I can not trust them
Hence my silence
Hence the look in my eyes
My stomach was weak
I saw novelty in every lie
But to be honest  
I been meaning to ask
Is it too late for us?

Dear rain,

        You are
my favorite song and so I hope that you keep playing. You are

my favorite show I hope you don’t think I’m insane. You are

the greatest friend I hope for you I am the same. You are

the greatest cure I hope you see all of my pain. You are

his big achievement but he won’t tell us the game. You are

his biggest secret so he won’t tell us your name. And so

again the time has come, again the seasons look to change. And I’ve
seen them come again but these autumn leaves won’t look the same.

Coughing like a cold start
Wheezing like a bag
Spitting through the back door
Have another ***
Doing the dying thing

Filling up an ash-tray
Feeding a fat face
Drinking cans of lager
Getting in a state
Doing the dying thing

Reading ****** papers
**** and bingo cards
Have another lager
Another pound of lard
Doing the dying thing

Sitting watching game shows
Rattling paper bags
Looking bored and farting
How the sofa sags
Doing the dying thing

Working for a *******
For very little pay
Yes boss and no boss
For eight hours a day
Doing the dying thing

Safely empty headed
Dull of thought and eye
Ignorant and vacant
There are many ways to die
Doing the dying thing

                                       By Phil Roberts

When I get this writers block
The best thing for me
Wammer jammer time
The guitar always speaks
What my mouth
Is held back
From
Doing

where are the songs about
the wrong girl,
the not-quite-right girl,
the in-between girl?

we exist.

we tell ourselves that we are
no one's one-night-stand,
no one's rebound,
no one's flavor-of-the-week,

but
we would give anything to be
someone's last dance,
someone's first choice,
someone's only hope.

is there so much that is "wrong" with us?

we are flawed.
we are vulnerable,
we are lonely,
we are cynical and shy...

but
we are also proud,
we are strong,
we are fearless and exquisite,

and we are worth more than “happily-ever-after.”

Oh dear its happening
what do i need?
I need a friend
my body is rushed with adrenaline
knowing i may lose him again

what do i do?
oh mama tell me please
i know your foot has fit the shoe

i bite my nails
and i tap my foot
but it doesn't help
im feeling a lot of  blue

What must I do
I love you so
and do not want to say
goodbye