No. I don't hate you. I just pretend to be, it's easier I guess. No. I thought it would be easier.

No. I don't hate you. I'm just trying to. Or I guess I was prentending to. But I didn't.

No. I don't hate you for doing all these things. All those unnecessary emotions. I guess that love wasn't really for us.

No. I don't hate you. It's just that I can't love you anymore so I'm finding ways to stop this unnecessary feelings.

No. I don't hate you. I just thought you were that one but I guess I should still be looking for.

No. I don't hate you for doing this to me. I guess you were kinda right but if you still wanted to talk, I'm here. I'm always here.

No. I don't hate you. I just hate the fact that I can't look at you the sameway again. Cause I can't fall in love with you again.

No. i don't hate you. i just hate the circumstances that no matter what we do we can never talk to each other again.

No. I don't hate you. I just hate the fact that I can't even get near you. You feel like 10,000 fet away from me everytime.

No. I don't hate you. I just hate the way everyone looks at us that they wanted to tell something really insulting.

No. I don't hate you. I just wanted those few broken peices of myself that I can't find within me anymore. I just wanted those back.

No. I don't hate you. Because if I did. That wasn't love..

November is a month
i dread, all the marking...
all the words ..... ideas
clutter up in my head....
all the hopes and ambitions
weigh heavily on my back.

the first day, my birthday
hip hip hooray!!!
then a rushing, pell mell
downward track
of red pens and meetings
going on and on and on

planning, prepping, late night stressing

then, when not at work,
not shirking, just not working
hoping to give the brain a rest
am bombarded...
like i am ******* in cheer
...continual messages of
christmas is near....
coffee and carols,
shopping and angels
harking, harking,
joy to the world, fa al lalala...
Santa queues
truly not an Ebeneezer
but Christmas teasers
in November make me grey
around the gills
fish out of water
lamb to the slaughter

and running on empty,
always empty,
just want one day...
when the world
would stop hassling
and just go away

no end of year parties...
prentending to be hale and hearty
with all sorts of colleagues
and academic smarties
no presentations of budgets..
thinner than last
no we could not fast
this area, to be on line
no it's alright, it will be just fine
while sculling copious amounts
of cheap, cheap, nasty  red wine.
no hangover from said feast...
no,  you be the one to corner the beast.

no more standing with mothers and others
watching children in a god awful christmas play
and clapping and chatting while little bettsy
recieves an award for knitting a sleeve
and george gets one for adding fourhundred and forty

please, please show me the door.....

not to mention hayfever,
daylight savings and more

but all this seems trivial...
when I consider
the blight of my life...
in the stakes of annuity.

the month of November has a great heart
Movember...a charity of moustache art
has an fanatic in my big, bluff,bloke
for a month he curries and cares for the
caterpillar  that grows on his lip...
a fuzzy flecked monstrosity
with the mange and a weird flip.

November a month of avoiding
the succour of contact....
with that thing,
my toes curl now
thinking of it....
tho I try not to react
(after all charity begins at home)
november november
truly you are the ***.

last year he bought
the ****** thing a comb



yet in the end
you are but a month
and it seems I survive you
year after year
thank god for take away meals
and long cold beers....

Sweet, dainty lips
And starry merry eyes
Her fingertips collide
With tingly butterflies

Fragile little thing
Oh, watch out for the wolves
Or what it might bring
And how it would move

Cold hearted lass
Heart like a glass
Forbade from the wolves
Obtained pure sass

Big, big wolf
Had gotten near
Near that little honey
With his wicked seer

Naive little girl
Beams upon bad
He melted and he swirled
Her heart, ice clad

Big,wicked wolf
Jinxed the frigid heart
Prentending, oh, prentending
The wolf was smart

Silly, silly *****
How silly you can be
Never marked words
You're always carefree

Evil, sadist wolf
Plucked the scarlet heart
Evil, sadist wolf
Plunged in a dart

Silly, silly *****
Sobbing little sights
Poor broken baby
And blood atop her thighs

Mad, sadist wolf
Threw the heart below
Mad, sadist wolf
******* and foe
Withing, a broken wolf
A ******* in show
Within his hairy heart
A tragedy he rows

Its times like this when i get home later than expected.
Hes sleeping peacefully,
But theres plenty to do:
Dishes
Litterboxes
Laundry
Sweeping
Mopping
Vaccuming
Cleanin­g my car
Sleeping
Bathing
Brushing my teeth
Existing
Smiling
Being Happy, or prentending to be
Be uncomortable in my own skin
Scratch my arm in hopes the skin starts peeling off
Man this list is too much for me
Im going to bed.

I was a 4 year old kid who visited his father in hospital every day for months. The worst part about that was prentending everything will be normal. That me telling my dad "it'll be ok" will make it come true.But it doesn't.People would walk around and tell me that ok is relative. Some are just more ok than others but in that moment I felt anything but okay. Because to this day, I still say "no kid should watch his father strapped up to machines trying to breathe the words that say don't worry too much". Between each broken breath I can remember him asking about whether I'd behave at home, like a few bruises and cuts on my face would change how anything was going to play out. Some days I wish I could reverse death. Some days I wish I could reverse time. This is one of those days. Because 17 years ago I lost a man who was supposed to show me what it was like to be a man. How to stand like a man. How to walk like a man. How to talk like a man. So you know what really keeps me going? Being childish. It's easier. Easier to pretend. Easier to believe in imaginary things like an imaginary dad giving me advices. Most kids grew up with an imaginary friend or a unicorn, I grew up with an imaginary dad.

[Part 1]

So far behind
Though it seems I lead the pack
My heart does beat
My lungs, they breathe right back

I am alive.

Sometimes it is as if
Death has arrived at my door
Progress has come to a halt
My dreams deprived of anything more

Am I alive?

I am become a stagnant pond
Where wind will howl not,
nor warmth bid his welcome---
The cold, it chills the marrow of my bones

Am I dead?

From my purgatorial porch, I perch to view the news,
My peers about me move along with time
Whilst I float in drollery, prentending to flow the same---
Apparently convincingly so

I cannot be dead.

Mind and muscle try, but do not succeed
There is no regress,
But they dig a deep ditch,
Down in which I have made my mess---

I am stuck.

[Part 2]

Each success is one step ahead
Each failure, three lessons to learn
Overcoming mistakes should put them to bed
And the next two steps are two steps earned

I can get out!

Eyes see forward, not behind
Let the brain leave the bad in the back of its mind
So then it may focus on what it has gained
The next few steps are the few that remain

I am alive!

[Part 3]**

So far behind
Though it seems I've led the pack
I need not worry
To accept the gruesome facts

I will make it!

I am not standing water
Nor am I stuck between life and death
I am alive, *******,
Hear me take a breath!

I just have to snap out of it and get back to walking.

I am okay*
If okay means knowing people are prentending to be friends with you
If it means noticing a lot of things changing
And you, just wanting to eat, sleep and cuddle pillows a lot
If okay means things are not well but you're hoping for the best
yet still expecting the worst
Embracing sadness thats creeping
Breaking into tiny ashes while the world does not care nor does not notice

Then yes I am okay