To be a Mrs Joe
or become a lady
Havisham?
I weep for him
I weep for him
I weep for him and me.
I lose tears salted with his stress
or his concealed thoughts plugging up
his brilliant mind
i weep
about him, about me
about us

there's no shame in being pure
we're all pure at once
there's no shame.
To him there is.
in the doubts of his voice and tongue
there is shame.

i love him.

i love him with everything i have
everything i see
everything i believe or know
i willingly give to him but
he loves me not.
ill slip him some purple petals
dipped in yellow stigmas or become
a ghost of a girlfriend.
a ghoul of a lover.

one insignificant link in a long shackled chain of
exs
forever bound in his vast memory and mind
as
"*****" "cow" "****" "ungrateful" "unworthy"

Am I Cleoparra?
Mrs Joe? Havisham?
Estella?

I have no twinkling green eyes
i have no slender waist or
vast, indefeatable wit
i have no enigmatic undeniable beauty
That would quake the heavens and make angels sing and string Apollo's lyre
or beam such light that would Diana's breast
i am insignificant
.unspecial.
he is special.

i believe in no such god
but he would be my proof
my tear of hope
a small ray of belief and defiance
tearing apart a black unbelieving universe

i am a passing pair of peepers
he'll see a million as insignificant as i

ill only know a love like this
once.
For him.

he should live forever
he will
if not this world in a wasteland

am i Estella?
Cleopatra? Mrs Joe?
Miss Havisham?

i pity myself for always
trying to say sorry
when in fact
i shouldn't

THESE ARE FEELINGS OF SHEER PAIN

but then i get afraid
you might leave me

why do i always feel neglected
unspecial
unappreciated

why is it that
you'll just go here when it's convenient for you
what about me
i wanted to see you as often as much
am i allowed to visit you too

sigh

you know what
sometimes
i feel like i'm being used up

AN OXYGEN TANK

giving you relief
when you're in dire need
of support

but see

i'm getting consumed
slowly
silently

one day
when i shall speak none of your name
wonder not

there's just nothing left of me anymore

I am not aware of this
Im just ignoring its power
Restless I am from this situation
The founding skies does saw it happening

Why is he acting like a monster
And time to time screams roar
In my mind and waist line
I cant see my winning stunts now

Look at my knees, , its trembling
Tonight, guard me from this dirt
Dark unspecial thought life
Who is he? dont let the audience hanging

He is the brother of my dreams
He brings multi-spots and blemishes
All around me become scary
I call him as my nightmare

I am isolated myself from moving
Because his motion is unpredictable
It is not vibrant in this velvet idea
He also carried out loads of commotion

Cute if I spells out of his name
But it so dangerous if he bother me
I pray that he will not visit me tonight
Because I wanted a rest for tomorrow

Today's new day
A bit less blood
Maybe my tongue
Doesn't papercut
Inside my mouth

Maybe my fists won't clench
That man won't undress me with his eyes
Make me unspecial, a *****

Today it's love
Everywhere, here
Seems to be, hope for me
The men are learning
Haven been broken
Taken to lengths unknown
Maybe one for me

Look at me
Unreadable, adorable
Beautiful, deep eyes

Let flowers sprout
Beneath my feet
Cool, rain wash
Away my sins
Forgive me, Father,
I might love again
Maybe, maybe

There is one
But not mine
A fantastic love
Broken, resilient
Vowed to try

I am jealous
Joy, though for a kindred soul
So lucky, what did she do?
Blessings from heaven
God's Gift to her

Will it prove true?
Or another lie?

I want it so badly
Unselfish for her
Because if there is one
There is two
I want to nurture
Guide and help
Believe

But to be anything more
Than an observer, spectator
Clapping hands, the audience alive
Will distract the stage, show
Maybe make a player, lover
Miss a step, trip out of step
Distractions, a bump

She's a beauty to behold
Him, in love, almost
It seems, a worship
Worthy goddess
Worthy love

This water bead in never being,
complete with confusions of cells,
of unspecial wombs,
whips in blood and phlegm,
strikes a snaking cord,
snaps taut in seconds.

Escaping this route,
shrieks explode
inside a glass room...
their sounds become
a strange comedy
of exhalation,
laughter,
occasional breakdowns...

Before long,
passion returns all this
into a water bead
drifting in a dim never being,
losing to a bright bitter is.

They can make the chemicals for love in a lab. I know. I’m sick of hearing how unspecial it is that I exist alive with passion.
Listen. The world around me is howling and the moon is sick with our worries. We are all in a flood that wants us to sink without screaming. There is nothing in my pocket but debt and shadows and the teeth that have been knocked out of me. There is nothing in my future but cubicles and temp agencies.
Let us have love. This generation is dying. We are sweating out the innocence we were supposed to grow up in. We are all stumbling around with our hearts pounding in desperate fire alarms. We are all smothered. Let us have love.
Let us love each other wildly with our pictures of girls laughing in the passenger seat. Let us hold onto the images of our friends on the beach with sandy knees, of bonfires, of blurry drunken singing, of stopping for shakes and slurping them over bridges, of a shy look over one shoulder, of the sun setting, of selfies that show: I’m alive right now. I’m happy. Let us keep that. Let us keep proof that we are happy.
Love can be made in a lab. “Let that sink in,” he tells me. I say, “I knew that already.” So can basically anything. I want to stop questioning myself. I want to love so wide it breaks your measuring systems. I want to love her until she shakes, I want to touch him until it breaks me. I want to stop the cynics in their tracks. Everything is already so sad.
Can’t you see? Science doesn’t make this boring. Science makes this amazing. Everything that’s dancing in my head when I think of the people I love - it’s so real that they can read it in chemistry. It’s not just fantasy. It means I feel it to the very cells of me.
Let us have love. Let us have our dopamine, our seratonin, our oxytocin. We are surrounded by poison. Give us our delicate balance. Give us something we can believe.
”
— Love is scientifically explainable. That doesn’t mean it’s not amazing

They travel light cats
no one took much notice
tired from the week
the TV on
it's only a cat

Caged and wailing
a low strange hurt
an infant's cry
en route to his end
naked, covered in fur
that's all

A bag of food a litter tray
not much to his name
Plucked up and put down
in another home
where nothing remotely smells like Home
where nothing, nowhere, no-one's the same
or familiar
recognisable
known

Unmarked, unspecial
the departure of a cat
from all known
worlds

He said, "if the girlies don't work out"
To come back here

And get **** faced

And maybe watch some bad movies
Like Predator 2

Past security, ticket given without a second glance
It could've been any old white piece of paper

But he didn't check.
Why wouldn't he check?

Inside are the real predators
The real commodifiers

Who stalk prey called women
Look at the way they look at you

Do you notice the way they look at you?
Or is it like breathing air, or a fish in water

And do you buy into the predator's worldview?
What do you really see when you look at the self?

Only what others see, perhaps?
I understand that

In the car, on the ride here
He said, "I'm looking for something special"

"I don't **** and get out"
But definitely don't stop calling them *******

The culture says who they are,
Rather, the culture says what they are

You are complicit in the culture
Just like me

A stoic face toward oppressors
Is still complacent

A face that prides itself on not objectifying women
Yet lays silent in their objectification,

Isn't he just the problem?
Aren't I that problem?

And the songs that are as unspecial as the ***
You purport to not want

Boom louder than your heartbeat
That you can't tell if it's the bass or the blood

Pulsing through your veins

How do you know what you want isn't real?
Are you oblivious to the remake, the unoriginality?

Like the songs stolen without rights,
You adopt your predecessors' predatory propensities

It's all *******.
That's what our glasses are full with.

The Irish drink to connect
We drink to waste away

The same way we do when we sit
And become one with our couch

At the heart of the Ire-land
Is a history of conflict

And inability to have conflict,
Also known as: war

So they sit and they drink
And they talk and they fight

And they all have bad livers
But their hearts aren't clogged.

But back in the club, there's a one size fits all video
Playing over the one size fits all songs

Catered to the one size fits all people
And our one size fits all pallets

In the blur of the headbanging and the deafening
We lose our precious individuality

But maybe I'm acting too pious to judge as I do
But, if you were in my shoes, wouldn't you?