kids only see txt
they don't have any feelings
only the screens
of their smartphones
they only talk via tweets
RTs & "comments"
low poly skinhead cyberpunks
living in HD premium worlds
it's only diodes
that iphone ain't got no soul -
not like it used to be
it used to be real

they don't have feelings
it's just txts on screens

they dnt have feelings
they dnt hv any feelng

When I was eight I learned to swim the hard way
my minuscule body flung into the deep end
like a leaf in the wind.
Falling without grace,
arms flailing,
eyes wide and my face redder than a cherry.

Kinda like falling in love with you.

Plunging head first drowning in your maple chocolate mocha latte ******* amazing eyes
like tree trunk spirals and rainy days and warm brownies on cold evenings
the fun of youth

I love
struggling to catch my breath with you
relying on the sweet oxygen exhaled from your lips when we kiss
the gross aftertaste of the food we just ate
but baby
I don't give a ****

Because when I'm with you my heart works in overdrive
your smile sends static shivers shooting sparks of awe through my body
like I've never felt before
even as I'm drowning

I've never been so alive

In{peace}ner

Yet again, I a(struggling)m to sleep,
Yearning for m(soul)y to keep.
Day by pa(day)ss with no remorse.
Death scouring the lands on his tire(horse)less.

There was Mar(First)cos,
There was Ka(Then)in.
De(coming)ath is for all of us,
As morale beg(wane)ins to.

Shots are fired in hot spu(sporadic)rts,
du(I)ck for cover as my shoulder hurts.
Blood flo(down)ws my arm as I grasp my gun,
I close my eyes as my comr(run)ades begin to.

I am paralyzed, planted in the ea(bunkered)rth,
My comrades car(me)ry as they flee.
I fig(sanity)ht, refusing to see my own worth,
As bullets fly by, in an endl(torrent)ess of maniacal glee.

The pain sears, racing through mi(my)nd.
Muscles, tissue, bone, to unw(beginning)ind.
Con(crosses)cern my comrade’s face,
As he looks at my pai(disgrace)ned.

Earth spews the gro(from)und to my right,
Launching us into the thick fum(air)ed.
I scream again as my pa(rears)in its roaring might.
My vis(fading)ion as my body lands on my earthen lair.

whi(Death’s)sper then did creep,
His bre(cold)ath in did seep.
I no pa(feel)in as I know its time,
To join m(mates)y, out here on the Rhine.

Eloquence
doe(s) not always
conve(y) what
(M)ostly (pa)rts my mouth
remember
(t)he (h)eart is
reall(y)
the most
articulate of
all

everyone needs
to leave me alo
ne because it hu
rts me too look
at them and I d
on't know wher
e I am and the
bed reeks of s
ex and laundry
detergent and
when I die will
my hair be stra
ightened? mak
e up my own fu
cking lyrics and
cry a lot and c
ount my allies
on my fingertip
s when did eve
ryone start hati
ng me?? am I
going to hell? i
s this hell? mu
sic isn't beaut
iful anymore b
ecause of you,
you ******* fu
ck why do I ev
en bother with
you why did I
even talk to yo
u you were alm
ost as ****** a
s I am!!! I'm sca
red to stick it t
o the man

stained with ink/lead/twists
words fill\lines\fill\spaces\fill
e mpt yh e a . rts::*find home.

Polls are the most racist form of opinions.
If honest, many aware of the race they mainly gathering opine from.
As if they still the face of a changing world.

The avoid dealing with visiting various [rts of town or campuses.
They still to the side that holds racism as an honor before their very own eyes.
Sometimes, you think the news is strictly on their side.

The national anthem, should you stand or don't.
Now, this is something with various opinions from all sides.
And can't be pushed by the redheaded guy who avoids signing up to be drafted during the warring war time.

It's like basing opinion around the guy in scriptures that paid the guy the same compared to those that thought they should have gotten more.

Polling is just that racist fiction of facts.
Tyhat they the news and others pushes to the forefront.

Satchel strap, knotted, both ends -
bag slip, not good.
Wrecking my shoulder blades,
too heavy, 'nough said.
Weights made-up, by drivers, usually.
Chasing the clock too.
Daily, endlessly.  

Man on bike, best combo, feels right:
By car is faster of course,
walks timed using them -
quads like an Olympian
and you've no chance, of matching 'em.

Heavily-sprung, hinged - left, right or top!?
Vertical ones, ridiculous, seriously?
Letterboxes, they bite,
literally, metaphorically.

The rain IS a pain, horrendous.
Letters become scrambled mess.
Smeared addresses.
Renders postcodes illegible,
M14 2WZ.

Snow is worse, laughs at wheeled transport,
making every step treacherous.
Don't trust the slush and the frozen mush;
Others sent home, but my mail must get through, apparently.

Part-timer equals second-rate citizen.
Lifers get the best walks, which aren't equalised,
no matter what they say.
Bosses, incompetent morons,
promoted through ranks like in WW1, clueless.
****-up, brewery, nuff said,
they tolerate too much tom-foolery.

No dignity at work, none, zero.
Sexist, racist, homophobic heroes.
Mindless chants about *** and ****, penises and ****.
**** this ****, juvenile morons.

Overtime's a crime, claim it before it's earned,
then argue the toss over 2.5 hours for the next three weeks.
Costing them a fortune, like this ****** welfare state is;
money for nothing and your hits for free.

But I'm fitter and slimmer, more toned and tanned.
Take in my pants at leg, waist and the seat, one size down.
“Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" is mostly appropriate.  

Blind, ****-offs, flats, notice-lefts,
Recordeds, specials or regis, if you're old school
Gone away, RTS, addresee not known,
"He died, he died, he died!" Funny, but sad.

Households, door-to-doors, hated by one and all; deliverer and receiver.
"The customer wants them” -
that's why they bin them as we turn our backs to deliver more unsolicited DM.
Sell outs. sold out. The customer, quite simply, don't count.
Royal Mail, epic fail.
I die with each one I deliver.
Do my best to avoid them,
sign up customers left & right to refuse 'em.
Unite, posties, unite.
Untie people, yourself from these mindless bundles,
dropping through your doors.
Say no, no more, please.  
No.

i w_rry __u will s__ _nd r__d _nd und_rst_nd _nd s_ i c_ns_r m_ _wn w_rds _n m_ _wn p_g_s, _nd m_ h__rt c_nt_rts; th_ s_rr_w runs d__pl_ in m_ bl__d, i _m sc_r_d it will n_v_r l__v_ m_ v_ins - but lif_ m_v_s\ _n _nd m_ l_v_ f_r __u __t c_rri_s - _nd _ll i h_v_ t_ s__ is s_rr_.