I sit around observing everyone carry on with their single-faceted lives.
How simple would it be to be only one person? Instead, I am left to deal with the repercussions of myselves.

    It's not my fault I'm different with every person, including myselves.

Or maybe it is. Maybe there's something wrong with your brains.

Perhaps, though whatever the reason, I believe we can all agree we are utterly mad
                                                       Agreed.

How funny it is to have someone deny a characteristic of my personality. For all they know, I could be everything they hate covered in a chrome mask reflecting everything they love.
It is of this I think when one expresses a liking toward me.
That affection is vain, they are admiring the qualities of themselves.
No one, not even I can see all my selves at one time. Some come along, new to my surprise
If I were to find a being who values things at more than, for lack of better word, "face value", then I may show them my selves and we would discover our selves together.

How odd would it be to look in a mirror.
     Oh now that is too many faces to look at
   Yes, but perhaps I would discover the gravity of it all - what's holding it together.
                     Enough of your nonsense!
                                Back to work, the lot of ya!

On an L shaped couch on the eleventh floor
I spend these short days with my ghost, hosting tea-parties for silence
drinking espresso like a cure for hurt- I need a drug that's stronger than Love and bolder than Compliance-

-my brain has wrought violence upon itself as I tumble again and again into the abyss of affection, seeking the path but losing the direction. Perhaps when I called you, you detected the inflection of a woman who feels so absolutely that she can no longer discern...

and without careful reflection nobody can learn.

I was never good at playing for sport. I aim for hearts. Every day is Open Season, and my arrow will shoot true-
I'll be ****** if I cannot find something to love in you.

And I'm divided in two, no- a hundred and two, watching myselves like mirrors upon mirrors reflecting every motive, every spark, and every smudge that swings the pendulum from instinct to conscience. Showing the audience centre stage where the white knight swerves off-course to save any soul who's fallen off their horse.

Love will be the end of me.

Cupid, we need a divorce.

Am I so mean to you?
Is that why you leave the
Bed to go and cry alone
When you think I'm
Sleeping?*

No.

I go to think. Thinking makes me
Cry. One hour is worth five
Hours of deep sleep.
I see clearer through tears.

I go to ask. Ask why we both miss
The same sides of love.
Why we both lay on either end
Of a mile wide king size

And wait for the other's arm
To reach across the proud void.
I go to ask why we both feel
Unfairly treated for the same

Reasons. I slip away from
The sensation of sleeping alone
When I'm not; it's worse than actual
Solitude.

I go to have meetings with myself.
To evaluate. Analyze. Criticize my
Act and improve. Take and give
Blame between myselves.

Who wouldn't cry?
No, little girl. You're not mean to me.
I am. I am a poet. I don't leave your
Side to weep.

It's all poetry to me.
Poetry and tears.  
I go to sit by myself and
Not write.

i am certain that i am going to die young and no this isn't one of my cries for help or bargain-ed pleas, you all will-i-am certain- miss that years and years from now. i still have myselves in all of you, every ounce of me does not belong to me. i am in ownership of nothing but the curls of my eyelashes and the frame they allow me to recreate. this is simply my attempt at a lightly humored poem, but I am certain I am going to die young, very young almost too young to remember the day I was born and thus, first deceived and devirginized, even before my first steps on clay coated sand and became a constantly budding plant with razor bladed sides and a thirsty black vaping hole between my legs but Liberia ruined me with it's talk of this ******* thing called womanhood same as they brought me thought and thought again to salvation, i am certain i am going to die just like many thought i've never lived a single day in my life, I am certain,
I am certain, I am certain.
I am. i am. just not tonight

.....Lo, forth I do march,
Hell's scorch fuels the ascendancy
Into solemn inner battle amongst
Myselves,
I am a poem at war with words,
The pen a bride like some spectral
Verbiage- luminosity antagonisong
The swell of ferocity, I do cling
As the audascious hope gathers its wounds
And scatters like petals in the furious winds,
The forbearance of that knife
Wielded within the self,
Self against self,
The battle rages against the heart,
Against the mind,
Down to the very soul!

In the craftmans tomb,
A poem floods the inner sanctum
And the march forward seems
Like a depression plowing
The fields of memory,
Oh what dreams may come
May also haunt.

And one drops many a word,
The war inside like flock
Of crows into the blinding light,
I still here could not give in,
The soul still battles its flesh....

I’m told I was a twin in the womb,
And that is why my life is twice as lonely.
But sometimes it’s like
A different pair of eyes stare through mine
And my head is too small for all of its thoughts.
I hear her breathe, softly, from the chair I am sitting in.

Time passes, but we are still next door neighbors,
of limited use to each other, all hues and no gradients.
We are one note, the both of us, but it is only I that seeks harmony.
I call to her, but she may not hear. I feel her approach though,
a tsunami in the guise of the tide. My feet submerge,
and my lungs flood.

Somedays, her door is open. I am afraid, but I will enter.
It is but a blink, a walk through a wall of water,
And then there is a stranger in my house.

This isn’t a tale of snails and puppy dog tails
This isn’t my love opus
There will be no dandelions and daydreams

          This is poetry to fight to
          This is poetry to **** to
          This is poetry to **** to

     This is beauty
     This is art

It’s exhaust in your face
It’s fury after heartbreak
It’s bleeding and *** holes and mold
It’s the ache in your brain and the tugging at your soul
Maddening, hallucinogenic, tongue in and cheek and powerful

This is road rash and asphalt
This is for the punks who spit in your face
This is for thieves in the night
This is for the battered, shattered and abused
This is for those who can’t take anymore
This is for those still truckin along
This is for the addicts, ******* and opinionated
This is for the single fathers ****** over by baby mamas
This is for those who spit blood and get up off the canvas
This is for those crawling out of their skin
This is for those bursting at the seams
This is for those who pick scabs for fun
For those willing to fight and **** and feel

Those who steal at will, who shotgun beers at 8am
Those that fight bears with Bowie knives
Those that saddle burdens
This is for those too smart for their own **** good
This is for the unhinged
This is for those who walk the edge
This is for the devils
This is for the demons
This is for those who can’t put the genie back in the god ****** bottle
This is for those who wear their heart on their sleeve
This is for the ******
          For I am the ******
This is for the lunatics
This is for those with poor impulse control
The saddened and gladdened, miserable and merciful
The maniacal narcissists with delusions of grandeur
The glass half full types, swilling *****
The junkies. The ******.
This Rottweilers stuck in pint sized packages
The nonsensical. The absurd. The unbecoming.
The shivs and the shanks.
The me’s, myselves and the I’s.
The notorious. The nefarious.
The sinners and saints.
The lovers. The lost. The last of their kind.
The ones who broke the mold.
The outlaws and rabble-rousers.
The coke heads and kingpins.
The ones who live in no man’s land.
The beautiful. The scarred.
The demented and downtrodden.
The ones who give up Sunday morning ******* to put pen to paper.
The attention ******.
The anti-social lovers of humanity.
The Molotav cocktails.
The ticking time bombs
The powder kegs and the poets.
This is for those who can’t get enough
And for those who can’t stay away.
This is what poetry is.

I keep finding myselves in places where I should play that role, the one who carries the stick, but I just don't feel strong enough for it.

Small talk is shrinking/
Soon, there'll be nothing left to say/
Awkward silence/
Choking on existential dread/
Broken ice/
The future bones of former frienemies/
As throwing knives; time paradox/
Don't ask me why I'm cold/
Hypothermia/
Not here, and she knows it/
My spirit animal: a lobster in the ocean/
Of a seashell/
My real self is hidden, and/
Heavily encrypted, I/
Hack it into pieces/
Until my core splinters.../

CLAWS OUT/
SCRATCH MY BROKEN RECORD/
I'M NOT A PLAYER/
I JUST CRUSH:****:DESTROY A LOT/
MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE/
MAKE A DECISION/
WAKE UP FIFTEEN YEARS LATER/
IN A BOX/
AND EVERYBODY HATES ME/
INCLUDING MYSELVES.../

I am not normal/
I cannot talk small/
I'm thinking about cutting out my tongue/
Like Oldboy./

I live in a world where a path illustrates a conflict
trying to capture the internal realities,
wait for it


I suffer the explanation of every path
For all The Truth striving to remind mankind of what Allah has gave
wait for it


I heard The greater conflict triggering a soul
shuttering the whole meaning but I sensed what comes close is conscious
wait for it


A suraah of oath is not only a chapter of hope

I gazed upon words being said, but not understood
like When the sun soothe completely out,providing morning light
wait for it


I reflect on equidistand madness and gentleness
like When the moon is full,it draws the full light from the sun
wait for it


I reflect on approval following responsibility
as The sequence of the moon trailing the sun
wait for it


As the day gives life a full exposure
Do you see it ?
As Morning gives brilliance to a day
Can You feel it ?
As The night covers the light of the sun
Even silence succumbs to it.


I have duties to meet and deem
as the sun has roles and characters to build
wait for it


“I swear by the sky and what and who made it
who is,is the origin of imagination
what is,is the verb of attributes
the fundamental of powers and forces embedded in
The fuse of inseperables
The flaw of dependables
The remarkable creation”


I have a dilemma,how should I honour these abilities
What if they trip my balance,steal my stability and sorry my advance
Such as The Sun and the moon,The day and the night
wait for it

I have an exceptional rival between instinct and reason
Such as the conflict between the sun and the moon
between The day and the night
All those are different worlds with limits
You waited for it ?


I piloted a system creating chances and plough like
An oath clash during the intersection of Water and a bubble
opportunities blowing like a reflection of wind
When would we know the truth is within the seed
Should I tell you to wait for it ?


The conscious of issueing the existence of a threat
commanded is conscious when I imagine guilt,fear,failure
Can I  pull equal weight on both threat and guilt
both fear and failure
reflect on your self and your conscious
remember how balanced are they
remarkable empty desires
Am I too close to it ?


My conscious sends a reminder about our profound reality
The human heart makes you measure touch,and feel width
The human gut makes you measure navigation,and see height
I was told There is no definition for Personality
Unless the perception is self,not being slaves to no lens
Unless growth is a fact,not being excused for a piece in a rand
Unless that makes you puke such as I we have a common solution
Ever since medicine reduced human into chemicals,hormones,
All it ever did was seducing human into status,choices .
Working with what we can see and what we cannot see
There exist every tablet for me to overcome that for every dent caused by
invisible deals and means that leans towards the inclination of
what is good in us and what is not in advance
Even the soil provides clay
Even the moist provides clarity
Even the sand proves
Everytime I feel mentally hungry,
I get fed with food from earth



Then I recall my worth,I was taught
The concern is my body’
whether body as self or self as fame
Suffocating the inner
covering myselves with clothes to console the outer
handing justice two things
the portion of the unseen,the untouched and the untold
As I told the heart,How fashionable can I dress it
Like a :
A scent of diseases
A lamp of desires
A dozen of fears
A gutter of love
A dosage of hate
A lumpsum of anger
A sample of emotions
A ring of resentment
Married to influences
Ignoring the needs of the soul
Even though The heart is the territory
hearing,listening and seeing is the allegory
Because we see and we hear the truth
A feeling more powerful than thought
Nothing I never thought I would have bought.

I love her,

I love her form,
I love her intelligence,
I love her personality,
I love everything about her,

I have told her as such, and in return I am told only that she knows,
I lose a piece of myself at this,

I have defended her,
I have supported her,
I have been there for her, and told her I love her so,

Still she knows my love,
Still I lose a piece of myself,

"I will wait for you until I am naught but bones," I say
"I will wait for you until I am naught but dust," I say
"I will wait for you until my being is naught but the earth around it," I say

Still she knows,
Still another piece,

I would do all that I can for her,
I would give all that I have for her,
I would be all that I am for her,
All for her,

Still knows,
Still a piece,

Despite losing myselves I still love her,
Still wait for her,
Still hope for her,

I have shown her my resolve,
I have shown her my loyalty,
And I have shown her my love,

So,

Until I no longer wait,  or am naught but bones, I will defend her

Until I no longer wait, or am naught but dust, I will support her

Until I no longer wait, or am naught but the earth, I will be there for her

With everything that I am I love her,

Until the last piece,
I love her.

Yeah, I know.../
I'm sick of me too/
Wish I could peace out, but/
Stuck with myselves/
Even after death/
Life's a *****, slapping you/
Difficult not to snap/
Turtle with the world on it's back/
Falling down the stairs.../
On purpose/
Heaven isn't promised, bro/
No pressure, right?/
Just pick up all the broken pieces/
Don't burden other people, but.../
My hands are bleeding/
Not asking for help/
And if I don't tell you now/
Then you'll be angrier when you.../
Find out/
Lost & found mind out of body/
Thirdeye blindspot is desire/
On repeat; off the deep.../
Adventure timebomb/
There is no end/
Pitchfork and knife drawn/
You are what you eat.../
Abstracted psychological horror./

I flash fangs at commoners/
****** daggers at dogs of war/
Crush **** destroy stress/
And ***** streams of conscious thought/

Bad Taste!/
Just give me space like ancient astronauts/
And I'm blasting off your face if you take too much, sucka/
Most people are parasites looking for Paradise in others/
In others... but not I/
I can survive with, or without you/
Even if I don't want to/
Pops said "Beggars can't be choosers"/
I who have nothing, but the comfort of The Truth/

MENTAL TEXTRIS PATCHWORK CLOCKWORK/
FREEZERBURNER FREEZERBURNER/
MENTAL TEXTRIS PATCHWORK CLOCKWORK/
FREEZERBURNER FREEZERBURNER/

I inhale mass pollution/
Exhale mad abstractions/
Better out than invoiced/
Razorblade Saliva!/

Why so serious?/
Spraying Glasgow grins on village idiots/
Everyone deserves to smile/
Prescribe 'em all **** & pillage/
Excuse my paradox/
I unsubscribe to your mailing list/
Spiritual apocalypse/
I'm a certified organic mess/
Detoxification makes me wanna punch a wall/
Dysfunctional; I'm saving you from the evil of myselves.../

ICESOULATION!/

MENTAL TEXTRIS PATCHWORK CLOCKWORK/
FREEZERBURNER FREEZERBURNER/
MENTAL TEXTRIS PATCHWORK CLOCKWORK/
FREEZERBURNER FREEZERBURNER/
MENTAL TEXTRIS PATCHWORK CLOCKWORK/
FREEZERBURNER FREEZERBURNER/
MENTAL TEXTRIS PATCHWORK CLOCKWORK/
FREEZERBURNER FREEZERBURNER./

Every night/
You tell yourself "tomorrow"/
But wake up feeling tired/
Missing yesterday/

Can't get out of bed/
Cold is misery/
Freeze all motor functions/
Winter in my bones/

Windburn on my face/
Westworld foxhole/
Questioning the nature of/
My reality TV/

Not putting on a show/
Hate me for who I truly am/
Rather be loved by none/
Than not myselves/

We are not one/
Even I am not one/
But everyone has a choice/
Don't force me to make a bad one/

Unfocused/
Ramadaan broken/
Fallen through the thin ice/
Can't find an opening/

Mind running wildfire/
Body cryogenically frozen/
Time slows down/
Out of kitchen sync/

Wrapped in plastic, but/
The spillage was of biblical proportions/
Distorted icewaterworld typhoon/
The sky is falling/

Frostbitten snowball/
Lost within the avalanche/
You avant-garde a clue about.../
My Battlescar Galactica./