you are right to not believe

for you
the silent cries
that carry into the night
do not existence the volume
of your tv is adjusted
& everything becomes
a mute apparition
illuminated
but not heard.

you are right not to believe

for you
the sounds of gunshots
are the popping of fire crackers
after holiday barbecues
& the screams
come from parades of people
cajoling down side streets.

you are right not to believe

for you
the only hanging you know
exists in laundry whites
bleached towels are a must
for wiping hands
clean
& unstained
from the bloodied bodies
of loved ones.

you are right not to believe

for you
the world doesn't exist
beyond these bordered white picket fences
& bakes sales
until your mexican comes
to clean

suburbia
when will you realize
the war to be fought
runs beyond 5’o clock rush hour
& taking away your son’s ps4?

.english colonialism used to be passive-aggressive, english post-colonialism is a strange dynamic of former colonial nations playing the endgame of colonialism with non-affiliated nations of the british empire (affiliated by trade anyway, although not based upon origins of the ruling elite's extending arm), there's a hot topic in england between the irish and the polish, the irish are provoking the polish into racism so someone else can look smug with a pakistani friend on the london tube.

you know the amount of pain i see writing my father's
invoices of manual labour with the irish *****
apparently running
the show protecting northern
irish outputs of poetry and cigarette smuggling -
keeping us migrants "in check"?
god the loathing,
i try to improvise each invoice
with an excess knowledge
of the english tongue to break through,
but my sole considering comforter
is still death,
**** this *******, i rather die
than see my father's eyes eye me
hurtful hopeful of seeing my "bright new life"
when i was nearly murdered by
an egyptian school-friend / childhood friend
and later told: boy you better pretend you're
mad... boy my ***, your father is just
an x-ray technician... go back
to the northern africa of your
pretending to be a semite and build
another pyramid... *******, **** all of this,
days of casual pretentious squeaky clean
non-offensive poetry are over...
gentlemen - let's broaden our minds... swear a little
take up oaths with truth...
we were born to down a pint of concrete before
ireland was born, rushing out of pubs
when the call was made: concrete has arrived!
run, run run run! break legs and whatnot,
because in an irish pub talking to a homeless
person in akimbo giving him a cigarette
is cause for argument with an irish girl
trying to get, familiar;
unlike the sword, a stick has two ends...
you can smack someone with it,
but then someone can rebel and grasp the same
stick and smack you with it, for a suckling
taste of a kiss in memory of reprimanding manners.

- and i do remember the good stuff coming
out of h'america...
    i once owned a copy of blue valentine
by tom waits on c.d.: scratched that record
from over-playing it...
found a vinyl copy in the shop today...
splashed out a staggering £20 on it...
lucky for me the mp3 record comes free...
     £20 is a lot?
       well... better that £20 which played
in the background as i finished off decorating
the kitchen...
   rage 2 deluxe edition for ps4 -
      £44.99... so sure... i splashed out...
          thank god i'm not a gamer...
with games it's like with movies...
   notably? vikings season 1...
     i thought i could watch it a second time...
couldn't...
   a bit of a hit and miss...
    with games and movies...
      when the narrative gets exhausted...
and you're still honing in on the narrative
whether a passive spectstor or the role player
in the game...
but investing in an album?
       background background...
and an almost infinite array of the comeos
against the record...
   one cameo decorating a kitchen
another cameo finishing the day off with
some cider on a windowsill...
   but once upon: that's what h'america was
about... united we stand,
divided we fall... blah blah...
           and it looks like that right now...
the cultural export zenith peaked and it isn't
coming back...
   not for a while at least...
now we only look at not the united
         but the balkanized states of europe...
the states pulling at each other:
where once there was a cohesive collective
      export of pure cancan h'americana...
tom waits' blue valentine...
                          now i'll am getting
"culturally" is a bunch of vlogger content...
export of problems,
existential qualms without support on
existential pillars from continental thought
of 20th century europe...
   19th century doesn't count:
   not even nietzsche does: but kierkegaard
doesn't.

what are those lyrics from that vomito *****
song enemy of the state?
we shall send you, in ever increasing number:
ships, planes, tanks, guns: that is your purpose
and, our pledge... (1941 state of the union speech
sample)

most americans are not aware that soon
the primary export of our national economy
won't be cars, or food, or microwaves.
instead we'll be exporting death.
instead will be exporting death.

   perhaps, once upon a time...
now the export is quiet different,
   at its cultural zenith of exported values...
it would seem h'america choked on
a bitter pill... h'america no longer provides
the sort of culture worth exporting,
notably in cinema in music...
                               in literature...

the behemoth lost all of its juggernaut
momentum... and stumbled into rehashing old
ideas... it's not plagiarizm as such:
more a plagiarizm ex per se...

norman davies: god's playground -
   1795 to the present:

the Belweder is a palace in Warsaw...
(belvedere: a beautiful view)
constructed in 1660 -
  the White House in Washington D.C.
constructed in circa 1796...
by god, what a similarity!

   polish emigration to the u.s.a.:
in social terms their educational and communal
organizations are less effective than those of
the ukranians,
   in political terms their problems
command less notice than those of the blacks,
chicans or amerindians...
in the vicious world of the american ethnic jungle,
the 'stupid and ignorant Pole' is a standard
stereotype... once the noble lord...
reasons no doubt exist: like the irish and
the sicilians... the greatest influx came from
Galicia containing a large number of
the 'wretched refuse': people so oppressed
by poverty and near-starvation:
supressed linguistically, religiously...
the instinct of mere survival...
accepted the most degrading forms of employment...
exploitation: 'industrial *******'...
they were the gangers of the great american
railway age...
a canadian textbook can be cited
(j. s. wordsworth, strangers within our gates,
toronto 1972):
'it is hard to think of the people of this
nationality other than in that vague class of
undesirable citizens' -
   very much like to today:
   to think of canadians being a people
beloning to the making of mankind -
    without the canadian concept of mankind
being: peoplekind...
even woodrow wilson (then) prof. at prince-ton
deemed the Poles to be 'inferior'.

- but who was to ever to keep grudges...
grand torino - the movie, starring and directed
by clint eastie-boy-sparking-wood...
waldermar kowalski... dumb pollack...
why do poles no integrate within a community
bias as such?
                   the proverb:
if you want to succeed within a framework
of immigration: steer away from your
fellow countrymen...

                     almost all other cultures that
come, but the host's nitty-picky:
oh look at our asian labradors...
why can't you lick our ***** like they can?
etc. one example out of the many...
some people, i guess: prefer to be in
the background...
post-colonial powers need tokens...
akin to a sadiq khan:
papa was an immigrant bus-driver -
quick step up from daddy being a bus driver
to the position of mayor of london...
browny points!

the english are smug like this:
you hear even today -
WE WON'T BE SORRY FOR OUR
FATHER'S AND FOREFATHER'S SINS...
not for our colonial past...
they say that consciously -
but subconsciously they are scoring
brownie points...
        i can't say they're doing this
unconsciously: since if they were:
there would be a unanimous concensus
and no: "diversity is our strength"
agenda...

             besides... you can't exactly
conquer an island...
the norman conquest of 1066? it wasn't really
a conquest: for a conquest to actually take
place you'd require the native population
to be displaced / replaced by the invading
force - akin to the saxon invasion...
'don't touch, their, women...
we don't breed with these people...
what sort of people would you think
that would breed? weak people... half people'
(king Cerdic from the film king arthur 2004)...
proof being?
when the normans invaded and "conquered"...
they simply replaced the ruling saxon elite...
hence? the domesday book...
the ruling elites were being replaced
and the new ruling elites wanted to have
an account of who they were going to rule...
it was less a conquest and more:
a change of guard... since...
            the locals were first investigated
and subsequently left to their own devices...
there was no conquest:
               as such...
                but you can get on with your
day-to-day life on an island with natural
fortifications (the ******* sea)...
and produce your little whizz-kids down
the years...
   but imagine being squeezed by:
prussia... russia, the ottomans,
                  the mongols...
                             the swedes...
                and subsequently by the austro-hungarians...
matka królów (the mother of kings),
i.e.: Elisabeth von Habsburg...

   in conclusion... oh to hell with the whole
"incel" label... you have to pay for something
in the end... why not skip the *******'s worth
of pleasantries: the dating masquerade
and not get into the nitty-gritty with a *******
in one smooth stroke of a count worth an hour?
no hard-on shyness that way...
no ****-teasing...
whatever is an erectile dysfunction outside
of the brothel... doesn't seem to bother
whittle wichy while in a brothel...
so go figure...
                and relating to the stories of incels...
hmm... maybe it's the fickle women...
last time i checked...
i picked up a thai bisexual in a park,
a random stranger...
                took her home,
some beer, some jazz...
                  ****** her in the garden...
        i don't even think it's the case of
"i can't get laid" with these incels...
     english women: nuns on the outside...
latex gimp suited **** black boot licking
*** fiends in the bedroom...
   the madonna-***** complex...
the only aspect of Freud that resonates with me...

you know what, never mind...
      i'm just happy i collect vinyls...
free mp3 copy to boot...
and instead of spending 40+ quid on a game
that will become exhausted after one sitting /
completion (these are not arcade games,
nor are they the "free" new wave of games,
the ones where you play "superior"
opponents with a handicap -
since you didn't pay any in-game updates,
patience is a virtue,
   and someone people invest real money
into these games, but are still **** at them,
plus, these new wave games never really end...
i'll be dead and i won't be able to finish them,
added bonus? there's no NPC dimension
to them, added strategy: with a complete loss
of narrative / story-telling, genius!)
plus... how much does a vinyl player cost?
you can get one for under 70 quid...
sometimes vinyl bargains: under a tenner...
this one though, for 20 quid...
1 vinyl worth 20 quid once every two months?
oh yeah... i really splashed out on this one!

woman is a grand idea though...
    there is so much of woman i would be able
to love, if only the practicality of woman
wouldn't be associated...
alas: reality bites...
                       regrets...
                                  aged 33 and i feel as if...
i have managed a good enough sample
where both sexes can coexist within the confines
of me entertaining them:
as if they were to never meet and "preserve"
the "fate" of "humanity"...
      i'm pretty sure there are plenty of people
who have been bullied into this trap
associated with the otherwise "intelligent"
dodo mentality...
                          besides, i'm about to find out,
whether or not, they sell liter bottles of whiskey...
using my braille tally:

            ⠁ ⠃ ⠇ ⠧ ⠷ (⠿)
            1  2  3   4  5  (6)
             a  b  l   v  à  (é)

                        from what i drank yesterday
for that lullaby... i'm starting to supect that:
what they label as a liter... is actually more -

    if after ⠷⠻ ⠷⠻ (i.e. 50ml  20x) i'm not left
with an empty bottle... well then i'm not left
with an empty bottle.

I got sober and bought a bonsai
tree
It came with a beautiful
stone ***,
heavy and painted

I browsed the internet for tips
on how to properly care for
it
I watered it and let it grow
for a year
I bought shears,
to start shaping it

A stranger was in my house
when I got home from the store,
trying to unplug my PS4

I picked up the bonsai tree
and broke the *** over his head,
while his back was turned

He died a week later,
in the hospital

And I've been clean ever since

He recently shared something with me about holding hands. Everything written in the piece was true. From the start, his hands have made me feel safe, nurtured, needed, adored, wanted, and healed.
See, I rarely let anyone touch me before. Human touch was not something I craved until him.  I didn’t know how much I needed it until I wanted it, but he did.
      As he reached for my hand yesterday , as he does countless times, I began to notice things on a deeper level. I saw the structural beauty and strength of his hands; his skin color, his beautiful fingers, the veins, the hair pattern. I reflected on how many keystrokes they typed and words they’ve written. I thought of how many times they played the sax and played video games with skill and passion.
     Then, I remembered this past year. Those hands created a beautiful room for me in his home. Those hands literally moved ALL my physical belongings exclusively on their own. They held my hair as I was sick with my head over his toilet. They actually mopped up my cats’ ***** when it was overflowing at my old house.              
They have painted, caulked, sawed, sanded, created, recreated, cooked amazing meals, chopped countless veggies, cut every piece of meat he served me, taught me to use his PS4 controller, dried my hair, colored my hair, massaged away my pain, and given me love I didn’t know existed and more.
     His hands have been blistered, scraped, calloused, cut, pricked, sore and he doesn’t complain; they never stop giving nor does he.
And I’m so grateful and honored to be the one whose hand he holds forever...

life seems almost robotic at what i do
i go to work and chill at home
i read n write poetry
and smoke **** some days
got my ps4 locked away
i work nights and sleep
during the day
i sip coffee and go out for dinner
i hang out with friends
and attend A.A
i talk to my parents
i see the same news repeat all over
different titles different names different numbers
i long for love to open the door
i been standing outside for a while
and she knows
im waiting patiently for it has become my only virtue
while she puppets me to everything she pleases
i cant cut the string that i cant see
in the matrix awake but still not free
like a secret they forgot to mention in the scripts
even when you are free
you're still a Puppet

***** rectangular
como una caja pequeña
con ojos azules que me invitan
a jugar y a chatear



Jugando horas y horas
en la noche me pasó
en unas partidas largas
otras cortas yo buscando
Más y más victorias


Para llegar a la cima del juego más
famoso del momento fornite y apex legend
donde nunca el fin llegué

Just hear me out,
Before you get frustrated.
Lol
One of the new most commonly used terms in a teen’s vocabulary.
***
The new starter of most sentences in a text message.
Put them together,
You have a full sentence.
Wow, magic.
Just like that!
But then you have jk jk lol.
Brb.
Ttyl.
And those don’t even scrape the beginning of “text language”
Whatever happened to the real languages?
The real conversations?
See the thing is, most of us couldn’t go a day without our electronics.
Are world is digitally ruled.
When you feel your phone buzz, what do you do?
You immediately go for it.
When you hear your ringtone, what do you do?
You go for it.
I’m sure we’re all guilty of it.
We text, we post, we call.
Our life story.
Whatever happened to going outside to play football?
Because now it can be done on Madden.
With the touch of a button,
Our whole life can be occupied, mixed, and transformed.
Cyber bullying.
Plagiarism.
Pirating.
All crimes based on technology.
Our world has turned to the future,
When maybe it should’ve stayed in the past.
It’s become like a bird, flying too fast.
It seems like our lives have begun to revolve around when the next IPhone comes out.
Did you know a girl tried to **** her own mom when she took away her phone?
There’s clearly something wrong there.
We stare at our screens,
Like we owe them respect,
But then we forget
The color of our lover’s eyes.
Video games,
The love in a teens life.
How fun it seems
To build, destroy, and plat
But we forget, what it was really like
When these things required work, and energy.
This generation has relied too much on our everyday actions.
We don’t do anything new.
We haven’t done anything new…
Except when we got the new ps4 and the new IPhone 6 plus of course.
I feel like my world has been taken over.
The tyrant is the tech.
And its trapped me for years.
Its trapped schools, workplaces.
Its trapped the world.
And I don’t know how…
Oh wait…was that my phone?
It’s taken over our banking, our transportation, even our security!
We trust our tech more than our best friend!
And it doesn’t even have a soul!
In fact, that’s how we reach most people.
Social media.
Ah there it is.
Facebook
Twitter
Snapchat
And Instagram.
The addiction is real.
We check them every day.
Every night.
Memories fade to the rapid typing and clicking.
My parents laugh
When they see something from their childhood,
That I don’t even recognize.
And I ask myself, will our children be the same?
So oblivious to everything,
Because we never bothered to see?
We text. We type.
We can do it all night.
When will our thumbs get tired?
Because when you power your phone on,
I’m trying to turn mine…off.
Hold on, I gotta take this call.

How can you enjoy playing that PlayStation 4?
You stole it from Best Buy, it's not yours.
That PS4 doesn't rightfully belong to you.
Stealing it was lousy and a criminal thing to do.
You sit there and play it and you feel no shame.
How can you get pleasure from playing that game?
I hate to be a snitch, but I'm going to turn you in.
If you go to jail, maybe you won't steal again.

I have a sad story that requires music that's played by a fiddle.
I've been wounded and I'm spending Black Friday at the hospital.
Gamestop announced that they were knocking 80 percent off of Playstation 4s.
Less than one hour later, paramedics wheeled me through the hospital doors.
I tried to grab a PS4 from a woman, I thought because she was a woman, she wouldn't put up a fight.
But she stabbed, clawed, poked and she even decided to bite.
I really wanted that Playstation 4 because of how little it cost.
But when that woman was through, a lot of my blood was lost.
I'm at the hospital on Black Friday and it's a real shame.
Why did I want that PS4, I don't even like video games.

Certain people hate the Wii U, they call it a piece of crap.
But I like the game console and I think it got a *** rap.
It's no XBOX One or PS4 but it's not an abomination.
I believe it was good and that's not an exaggeration.
Yes, a few of its games do stink, especially Paper Mario: Color Splash.
When I played that game, I'd get so mad that I wanted to throw it in the trash.
Nintendo released the Switch after they axed the Wii U.
People hated the console and so it was discontinued.
I hated to see the Wii U fail, it has become another Dreamcast.
Certain people hated the Wii U and now it's a thing of the past.

As humankind evolves in time
What used to be primitive tribes
Guarding territory, people, progeny
And food, have mutated into
Governments flaunting flags and political
Agendas to fulfil, within four years,
Drafted on greed, implemented
By concocting fear.

Rulers hence redraw, imaginary lines
Based solely on war, and conquest
Fostering survival of the fittest,
The law of the jungle established
In allegedly civilised societies,
Lobotomised by technologies,
PCs and mobiles made of black
Sands, from Congo with love.

Four million people killed by war,
For tantalite to be mined,
Purchased and transformed
In modern gadgets we all own.
Other resources elsewhere up
For bids by unbidding forces,
‘Take what you like and as you please’
The silent motto composing our wellbeing.

Gold, blood diamonds, petrol and water
Conflicts, justifying decades of ******
Worldwide, from Middle East unrest
To Rwandan genocide, passing through
Sudanese Darfur to cross the ocean
Fight for land, tear down forests,
Grow soybeans for vegans,
Pastor sheep for jumpers.

Now modern times have come
New notions are ****** to hypnotise,
Overpopulation for minds to criticise,
Though calculations unable to mystify
Grant eleven thousand square meters
Of inhabitable land per person. Space
Thus not being the issue rather, resources
Are deliberately unevenly distributed.

When twenty percent of the people
In developed nations consume
Eighty-six percent of the world’s goods
Leaving an average of thirty thousand
Humans die of hunger and malnutrition
Daily, there is no morality. When consequently
The remainder, comes knocking for survival
On closed doors, there is no humanity.

When we hide behind phantomatic
Risk-like borders and fake needs,
For two phones a PS4 and three TVs,
As we throw our dinner leftovers
In the garbage and let water
Run warm for 5’ before we shower,
Neglecting collective guilt, responsibility,
Laying fresh sheets on king-size beds,

Turning blind eyes to the news
And deaf ears to the door bell,

How on Earth can anyone sleep?

Until the day we shall all wake up
Notice NASA photos of our planet
Taken from above show no lines
Of separation, and that Earth is
Home to all, in equal measure.

Can I have a Penny for your Thoughts
Matter of fact how about 3
A penny for you
A penny for me
And the other one so I can get to know you entirely
I wanna get to know you from the neck .  up
I wanna know what gets you mad enough to punch walls
I wanna know your pet peeves
I wanna know how far your smile goes when your smiling like an idiot
I wanna know if you sleep on the left or right side
I wanna know your favorite position. . In football
I wanna know if you even like football
I wanna know where you see your self in 5 years
If not 5 years, I wanna know what you're planning to eat tonight
I wanna know you're mind set when push comes to shove
I wanna know how long can you last..
In the intimate game of starring at eachother
I wanna know your shoe size.
Because if I ever decide to fall for you,
I'll be like yea he was a size 12
I wanna know what drives you crazy
I wanna know how far you'd take things . .
In Life
I wanna know if I were to kiss you,
Would you be Hard . . To get or would I already have you
I wanna know what gets you annoyed
So I'll make sure I'll annoy You twice a day
I wanna know if your good in card games
So we can play crazy rights until 3am
I wanna know if you ever been hurt
So I can show you that it's different
I wanna know if your ready . .
Because I already sat down and buckled my seat belt
I wanna know if one day I wake up to you, you'd tell me my favorite 3 words
"Are you hungry?"
I wanna know what makes your mouth water. .
I wanna know if you a are you full or where's the dessert type of guy
I wanna know if we're driving at 2am
Would you be able to tell me your hopes and dreams
I wanna know if your ticklish
So if your ever not smiling I get to make you smile
I wanna know if you prefer lights on or off. . .
When playing PS4 or Xbox
I wanna know if you sing in the shower
I wanna know if your into taking pictures . .
Because Id save all your silly pictures
I wanna know if you wanna make a movie. . .
Of a lifetime with me
I wanna know your insecurities
So I can love them the most
I wanna know what type of songs you listen to,
So when ever we decide to go on a road trip
We be bumpin
I wanna know if you get one of those little attitudes when your jealous
I wanna know how to never lose your attention
I wanna know if you'd be able to love me because I have battle scars
I wanna know if you think about me as much as I think about Honey buns
I wanna know if you look at me and say
 "man she loves to eat"
I wanna know if you like silly nicknames
I'll give you something like Sugarpapi .
I wanna know if a writer falls in love with you, would you want to live forever
Because words never die
So therefore,
Can I have a penny for your thoughts

we like the song, then proceed to fade into ourselves
realizing that we are all taking stabs, and
playing rotation with the pain in our flesh
realizing that we might be too harsh, over critical
of ourselves
don't say your name, say theirs
another song that comes on
as we regress into our hide.
Misrepresentation is, saying an important take
with sprinkles of "lol" on the side.
hot words to be carried in air on paper
intended to be thrown as paper plane
with no way to impose a coordinate inside
and we watch it fumble to fly
and watch it fall, crashing to the ground
another waste pollution for our future babies to cry
another reason i stumble when i want to connect with my guys
we just look down and pick up the PS4 pad
to control an already assigned code, to connect in it inside
when there's a jungle waiting to be coded on our insides.
whilst our paper plane on the ground
our thoughts and prayers goes to the sky.

Hey looky here is the greatest
Everybody call him shameless
******* call him tameless
And dudes call him famous

He pull up on the block
"**** wow look at his paces"
Even though I got them braces
Errbody be actin like they aced it

Because my words resonate like time and spaces
Don't check your watch I made it
Time, I slayed it, ******* I played it
No ps4 just mario kart cause I first placed it

Everybody call me faceless
No emotions no nun ***** I'm tasteless
I'm like the fake DNA on a crime scene, I'm trace less
Yet Im still out here solvin all these cases

Still ******* hittin me up with all they regrets
They think they made a heart theft
But really I could care less
Nah ***** just cut left

You say you miss me but you the one that left
I'm not surprised I know I was the best
I know I got you stressed
But nah I want a repel cuz now you is a pest

But still life is blessed
Bih I bet you you failed the test
Atleast you you gon be with the rest
To keep you company in these hard times and de-stress

People call me playa, but I prefer, the finesse
Wipin yo money away, like a cleanex
Look now I got an effect
I got these people tryna flex

Diss me boy yo shoes, is that payless?
You lil kid with untied laces, nah face it
You better pray to God I roast you with dem praises
No J's No K's you be boostin but look like a mess

Boi you look like a bird go fly, to your nest
You look tired from flexin on me go, take a rest
Summer 2k17 the takeover finna be the best
What can I say right now life is just blessed.

Seb had never bought a train ticket before. He'd bought a plane ticket, a movie ticket, paid a parking ticket, but never a train ticket. He'd tried to do it online, but his credit card was maxed and his checking account was closed, so his only option was to pawn his PS4, the promise ring his ex-girlfriend had given back to him, and return the college textbooks he wasn't going to use. That and a few other knick-knacks he traded in at Buffalo Exchange Clothing pulled $300, enough for a one-way from Chicago to San Francisco with $67.45 leftover. Luckily, he'd quit smoking.

I couldn't let go. And just say no, because I'm an addict and once I got into the flow there's no doubt that the ps4 went into rest mode. When the poem that I wrote for you was lost to the abyss I grew despondent and may have suffered paralysis a minute or two before this revision. Here I sit with a stale cigarette because it's been a while. And I'm not talented, so after reading your poems I've decided to steal your style. Then I made a decision to cut the lights, making the room dark. Because maybe if I shut off a sense or two my mind could begin to spark.

And quit berating me like a shark over losing that last thought. Even though I know you feel that kind of energy that I'm so desperately trying to lay bare naked for you to see so ******* unapologetically.

So once again I apologize for my intrusion. I'll try to keep it short and to the point and omit the confusion... Just let that raw spongy meat fill the sink like a blood soaked delusion. I'm like a fungus trying to find that tender feeling. The very same that's left me reeling. Congealing at the mouth for a minute or two until I let the tears run that had been concealed as if in a Sun fusion tomb.

And not to be rude but these first lines are garbage. I wanted to save that last one because at least there was some heartfelt flow. Not just rhymes and the due time of some clandestine woe. Here we go.. I can't do this. It's like the moment has passed because it got ruined. And now I can't get back to the place where I'm imagining your face or our palms interlaced...

And now my phone is dying. I'm scrambling to the charger deranged and out of place. I can't let the phone die then one more time curse the sky and wonder why. I won't take it as a sign that these words aren't meant to be written while I'm trying to remember only what the last one said like it needed this phony precision... Just acting crazy and coddling this vision like it's my baby. Like 7AM is a normal time to still be up. I don't know, maybe? Maybe it's because I've been thinking about you lately. And the thought of that had me in denial, lady. And look at me getting cocky with what I say. Like I can stand here and act queer and make sloppy jokes like that's okay!?

Maybe that's the reason why I can't sleep. Because I can't even hide my pride any more this time. I'm tired of rhyming. I just want to touch on what you used to tell me was a piece of me that was inspiring. I'd be lying if I said I have any of it left because any notion of that premise is so much less than deft. And here I go thinking I'm about to touch upon what's left in my heart when I know just how it will end but no idea where to start. Maybe it will come to me if I talk about dreams. Something innocent enough to dilute my own selfish reprieve.

What you meant to me.. Has me stricken with grief. Every word that I write feels like a giant hypocrisy. Every time that I think these thoughts I want to drown myself in my sleep.

And now I have that other poem that's going through my head but you have no ideas as to how it sounded or what it said. I described myself as a felon for what I did to you. How I stole your time for my own designs that much I know is true. But the truth of the matter is I can't stop the superfluous rush of rhyming words that want to come and they need to hush up. I'm trying to come from the heart. And all I can say is that I'm in a lot of pain just trying to relay... Trying to close my eyes and enter that flow state. For you I will.. I'm awake with my intent. It's almost eight but not too late for me to tell you just how I feel. If I try to rhyme it's not going to be right. It kills me inside that it's hard to fight. But I guess that's typical. Because I'd rather think of what to say next than be literal. Because I'd rather be a figurative criminal than dig deeper. I'd rather grow cynical than for once just face the reaper. I know my character when I despise my own reflection that alternates between this state and a newly found perception Because I'd rather be an outcast. Reject and misunderstood preacher than a disciple... and I'm my only rival.. But this isn't a confession to you and this digression isn't the Bible...

Just a predecessor to an elaborate truth and one at which I've been so uncouth. I see a black hole when I close my eyes. I know that I tell lies and hide behind alibies so my vacancies are my disguise. Now does that suffice for my ******* ego? Can I finally tell someone that I love just how hard it was to let go. How two years have passed and nothing feels so special because someone met tonight lead me to retrograde and that was heavy.. But it was more like an epiphany. It forced my pride and opened wide the holes I have inside. The very same that came from the time we said goodbye. When I forced your hand and took that stand and created a divide. I try and I try to convince myself that I miss the idea of you. But I'd be lying. I changed things up and pressed my luck but here's to trying. The stupid rhymes won't go away. They think it's safe. They think it's dignified, composed, and chaste. Whatever their reasons they fight being erased. And I guess that's the next wave of emotion I have to face..  

Even in a room with no-one around. I have to think about how it was you who lifted me into the clouds, and I in turn always brought you to the ground. I do believe the love we had was profound. I knew that you could speak to me without a sound.

And yet we still drowned, and I'm left shaking, still headstrong and rationalizing and faking. Still ******* rhyming even though this is the second poem in the making. How I managed to render the most precious bond I had forever forsaking it. What I'm left with to know is that I have no right after all this time to come into your life.

What I've learned is there's a difference between what you know and what you believe. In a moment of clarity I know what I've got is deserving. And then choose to believe in nostalgia and empty tears. Because Nissa, darling, it's been two years. And you're a new person in the moment I was here. Somehow I hope that one day you will read this little post-it note that means more to me than any wisdom or quote in the few passages here that aren't cunning or rote. It wasn't meant for many eyes to see. But I can't take this familiar loneliness haunting me. And there I go trying to connect synapses into the next day like it matters as time elapses
I lay here in bed with nothing to say but convey memories within my head. They don't fill me with dread, I reminisce with a soft version of sober ringing like the singing call of the dead. And though it was fleeting you will never leave me. So from the deaths that I've caused this to follow is what I'm bereaving. I might have been dreaming but I once was believing that all my deceit could prevent me from grieving. Like I don't already know that you're long gone and I'm still breathing. Like I don't sit here seething and still trying to rhyme or think of that last design. Like I'm not lying at all or that I haven't been crying. Washed up water methods and coping mechanisms may sedate me for a week. I don't want all of your love because for me it was enough knowing we were Nissa and Cedric.

I'm beginning to understand why they say home is where the heart is because I scream while I'm alone remembering and receive no catharsis. It's why I starve myself of necessary sleep to stay awake then soothe myself when I shake reflecting on mistakes. Now I only have to wonder about what you're doing. Because I won't reach out, ungluing and unraveling a door that's been shut when just a reminder of you washed me into a rut. It's why the ocean's waves are bringing me peace. They're consistency is what I have left to just cease and desist when I grow sullen and remiss. When I've now spent my night writing this. When I miss your kiss, but truly long for your echo. When I know I have to move on now but I won't let go. I love you. Just in case.. You didn't know.

Call me crazy but you were always a joker
Keen at making xyz your punchline
You seem to stretch the truth like it’s your safety net
Assume we all won’t see you true intent
And most don’t (pause)
But only because most aren’t looking
You can’t differentiate between to humor-ize and to lie
You’ve truly painted yourself quite the thin line
If any come to think of it
Actually you tried to hide between the lines
Oh so swaddle in what you can say without saying it
Scribbled in your fantasies as non-fiction
But I'm not buying
Your denying
Xyz delusional
You're still trying it
People aren’t games you can just keep supplying
And throw away when they stop complying
I understand there may be no use in trying to tell you this at all
However please remember these are not games
These are people
And you can press restart on a ps4 but not person

My son asked for a video game console and I ended up being sorry.
I went Christmas shopping at a flea market and bought him an Atari.
When he unwrapped the Atari 5200 on Christmas morning, he had a fit.
He has blessed me out before but this is the only time that I've been hit.

He took a sledgehammer to his gift that he hated.
It was over thirty-five years old, it was outdated.
He called me stupid because I bought him a console that is 8-bit.
He said he wanted a PS4 or XBOX One and then he threw his fit.

I had all of his BS that I could stand so I put him over my knee.
His **** is black and blue because of the way he treated me.
I gave him a good spanking because he crossed the line.
Because of that Atari 5200, I put blisters where the sun doesn't shine.

She is here to play games with my heart,
She will make my mind her controller,
And move me to which way she wants,
She broke up with her PS3,
She betrayed her PS4,
She even killed her PSP,
always after another Console,

She's not a game expert but she sure loves to press X,
hence I might end up being an X-box,
and I am sure the PC is next,

:'(

We game
We laugh
We joke & even cry.
Always goofy friends with endless hours talking away and laughing even if the video game frustrates us..
Yet suddenly one day i noticed the change in your voice, it was more nervous high pitched.
We started talking about relationships,
Now we FaceTime before going to bed,
Talking about the what ifs.
We look out for each other,
Noticing when somethings wrong…
I think that maybe this time…
I hope this time,
The universe answered my prayers,
And she’s the one.
Of course we are both worried about the what if we break up and it’s hard to be friends again…
That worry comes to mind yet here she is…
Telling me it’s going to be okay, she’s got my back like I have hers.
Now it’s the plane ride over and she’s in my arms
Gently stroking her hair and she snuggles closer to me,
Safety.
The one thing we’ve both longed for.
She sets up her PS4 and we game till we want to watch a movie.
“It’s going to be okay, even if it’s a lot to handle sometimes. Life does that, challenges us.”
She falls asleep so soundly and peacefully,
With her nestled in my arms I too drift off.
I love waking up next to her, as she smiles every morning telling me she loves me dearly
Maybe this time the universe is indeed kind,
We both longed for this,
The safety and peace we never had before.

my heart hurts
my head migraines like a dualshock ps4 controller rumbling on a drive train

my heart hurts , i feel empty
but knowing she is there
to hear her voice everything is a little bit better

when frost bite chomps
knowing a warm blanket awaits makes it a little bit better

when my long lost pet engulfed in an apartment fire
seeing claw marks on my hardwood floor make it a little bit better

when a black eye from a fist fight swells
knowing i stood up for a cause makes it a little bit better

just to hear you voice makes life
makes this chest consumption
a little.
bit.
better.

this yearr i m gonna buyy a ps3 two years from todayy  a ps4 four years from todayy a ps5 ...........endd off transmission