I cried out my fears on paper
Swallowed my past with aspirin
Wore the mask of monotony
All along

Couldn't hate you
Even if I wanted to
You ended up doing deeds
You told me to avoid
All along

I cried out when I lost the battle with my demons
Swallowed my hope with tears
Wore the amour of plastic
All along


You deserve an applause
For how you're  hiding your lies in vain
Couldn't reach your limits
Even when I climbed a ladder
All along

i have until 12am to come up with something...
i've already come up with three
bottles of cider - the last teasing some brandy
signature -
the cashier at the local supermarket
once had ambitions to train as a paramedic -
she's still the cashier and i'm still the drunk
in the hours from 9:30pm through to 12am...
i feel proud to just don a beard -
that's three ciders and a tease of brandy and
two sudoku puzzles solved -
i'm relaxing... i'm about to make listening
to music on headphones an eVENT...
just like my internet access is static and does
not have a smartphone access -
a laptop - armchair - me all hunched begging
for yet another insomnia crow to croak
in flight over my head come these nightly hours...
there was a reason why i started to reflect
on owning a radio -
and have almost forgotten my entire record
collection...
i had doubts: they said they would tax
alcohol... the price of the ***** hasn't gone up...
but i'm pretty sure i could buy
a poetry oeuvre for circa 20 quid...
i too thought that buy a philosophy book for
over 30 quid was: a bit steep...
2nd hand i'd max out a saving for probably 5 quid...
books like women...
the more second hands the more mandible
the beauty and more of the allure of what's to pass...
just saying... who needs virgins
in plastic sleeves still scented with crisp and mint?
women like books... women like leather...
women like jeans -
women with mistakes...
less all this transcendental ******* from either
Rumi or Dante -
hey... me you... there's the gutter...
let's play poke the hogs...
i will not stress rhyme - or wallow in some:
utopia me love story...
no rhyme just some blah blah interludes and:
a belief in disinhibited letting-go:
call it chauvanism call it a lack of sleep call it:
apathy - i would also to wish to care:
but then this sort of care would make me
a sadistic nurse - the sort of caring invoked
here for the opposite party - the shadow cabinet -
is a sadism: pedantry is masochism:
believe me when i say that: the pedantic linguistic
enthusiast is a *******...
care my ***: only today i was wondering
with someone close to me...
how the hell did i pick up this slang
slobber of a walrus in my mouth?
i mean... calling an irishman a paddy is not enough...
it has to be elevated to: riverdancing leprechaun...
same with ******...
and i don't imply a spectrum...
but the story of the niqab and satan's postbox
i've heard in england back in 1994...
nothing new...
no... this is a piquant... a tartar steak word...
windowlicker...
that has to be the most prized asset of the english
language... along with *******...
and... the people who made money
selling jumpers with the word: DUFFER
printed on them...
i can't choose... but windowlicker is
up there with *******...
eh...

that's just how imagined my tuesday 11pm:
circa shouting: quorus!
quorus! looking out for my maine ****
11kg+ harry windsor to come home...
cat ladies or no cat ladies...
the trouble with keep pets...
well... you have to vacuum the ******* house
every day, don't you?
and wipe the floors every second day?
and taking care of the **** -
and what not...

cool name though: thankfully the ******* chose
it... i'd imagine what it would sound
like should it be: QUA - as being -
RUS... eh... an O for an A...
i can get away with calling my cat:
as being rus...

but no... no great adventure...
windowlicker is up there with *******
in the english language...
as the conjunction insult on the sly -
the sort of word that's worth a cuffling
when you're dealing cards and wearing
a shirt and a tux...

maybe the word is mine...
i hardly hear it in pop lingo...
now that's truly audacious...
perhaps a remains of the past...
****** is just subtle...
point being: i sometimes call myself
a windowlicker -
self-deprecating that i am prone to...
no... wait... how could i forget...
aphex twin...
glaring obvious... well... a short study
in etymology... origin: aphex twin...
and i'm pretty sure if we round up all the users
of the word... and out them against the wall
and a greta fun-berg firing squad...
if only aphex twin used the compound variation...
and there was no oxford dictionary debate
about the hyphen...
plain and simple: *******, windowlicker...

i am so pleased that this ended up being:
hardly an ambitious write.

i'm black or white
either i love too much or hate till my last breath
either i talk too much or don't say a word for days
either i take things so seriously or don't care at all
there is no gray for me
i live at the edges

when I die cut me into pieces
keep the bits of me in your back pockets and leave me at train stations
hide me in between books at libraries and tuck me between the pews at church
leave me next to shampoo bottles at the pharmacy and plant me with blue hydrangeas
stuff me in between the sheets at ikea and in stranger’s coin jars
I want to be known so much,
I want the world to have me
If they don’t want me as a whole,
maybe they’ll take the scraps

I listen as your throat fills up again
Spilling tainted tales of torment
That twist till your tongue ties itself
In knots to form a new shape of you.
You will talk until I am convinced.
Talk until the riddles stumble
Upon sense
And I will listen until your face turns blue.

I see the knot you've become.
A contortionist - you seem set on self mutilation;
While I watch wincing
With every sharp angle your tangles
Take you.
It must hurt to paint your body with my blood.
It must hurt to push your feet
Into shoes not built for you.

And I know you'll never find her
The shell you've moulded your shadow to fit;
As I too have played dress up in fantasy clothing;
And trust in me that they never hang well.
But I hope one day you find her;
The girl I met back then;
With a figure that wore her own words,
Because I really did like her;
I just wish you had liked her too.

I'm supposed to be healthy.

I work out daily,
My eating habits are normal,
I'm physically healthy,
My grades can be fixed,
My mental health is becomming better,
I'm in a loving, non-toxic relationship,
The connection to my family is alright,
I'm close with my friends.
I have a lot of hobby's and interests
I don't feel empty most of the time.

Why, Why, Do I Not Feel Okay?

My teeth gnaw
at the inside of my cheek
out of frantic attempt
to calm my hammering heart.
It’s days like these
where I can feel
a poison coursing
through my being.
No amount of pills
can calm the waters.
No supportive words
can make me optimistic.

I will gnaw and gnaw
my teeth to dust
to grab hold of any
sort of control.

I'm addicted to
The drug called happiness.
A simple addict
Of fantastic phantasm fantasy,
In ecstacy.

I always heard that things peak.
What goes up, must come down.
Am I at my come down?

Why can I not forever feel
This happiness?
Will I wade in the shallow
Ocean soon?

Can things just only keep getting better?
These days I glow
In a radiant beauty
And I have never seen myself
Glow before.

Is this feeling just the now?
As I become a ***** to the
Good feelings that my life
Is suddenly bringing me.

I like to think that my life
Is paying me back with good luck
For all the times I missed a four leaf clover
Growing in a meadow
Or didn't glance at a shooting star long enough to wish.
And this time I don't need a good luck charm,
Or a wish.

But now I come to.
Is this my peak?
Is this as good as things will ever be?
What we built upon could fall,
And I grow afraid of tomorrow.

2018 brought me growth,
2019 brought me happiness and stability.
Oh, curse this new year bringing me fear
Because chasing after a stillborn dream
Is beyond my ability.

This dream, I never want to wake up.
There is a person I love.
A family I built.
An internal balance I perfected.

Would life be cruel to rip that away?
But worst of all,
I could never prepare for that
Because that's how life is.

I became happy gradually,
Without noticing the changes
Because becoming stable and feeling loved
Became my normal.
So, will I never notice what I will lose?
Can that hurt me more than noticing at all
And trying to stop it
At a demise?