The mind it yells ‘imposter’
Each time I find the time to write
Never telling who I am, only telling who I am not.

Squawking, sulking in my ear
Drives the pen, the words to veer,
Drives the mind to that of Lears,
Into the sullenness of my volition.
Imposter, Imposter - not a syndrome but a title;

The title of my biography, the world’s class joke
The worlds least known, the worlds last hope.

I have a Saviour but I am my own,
Rather, I insist to be my own.

Hypnotized by the shadow, or not a shadow but a void,
A black void, not empty but falling,
Falling deep and a miss, falling, falling to my abyss -

Imposter Void Imposter, write your sweet nothingness,
I pity myself but I go on, Imposter Void Imposter -
Sympathetic, the abyss lends it’s kiss.

i used to get angry
until realisation hit me
you are stuck in this
you aren't controlling it
suddenly anger became pity

in cloudy weather there's a light wind and light rain.
the mother cat and her kitten looking for shelter.
i can see in through her eyes, the pity who whisper to my ears.
i can't do anything but to stare and watch of how hard to be a mother just to find safety to her kittens.

the big easy
is hard lives,
what gives

this rainy city
so sublime,
it's almost a pity

that streets are lined with ****
pests and rats in the alleyways
how did things get so ******

or have they always been?

overpasses with people
lying underneath

so many homeless
it staggers the mind to think

bread bags and coffees
floating in the wake of the ferries

outnumbering 10 to 1
the loads that they carry

all the old growth
coming down

all the gold of their headpieces
tinfoil hats fashioned from crowns

no jazz or blues can save them
from the fate that waits

an engraving reading,
here lies what once was a haven

Fluffy little sadness
lurking in my soul
Just one more little sad song
sing along and feel whole
Sadness feels like a fur ball
we choke, cough and toss
sticky, gooey, hairy
not as sweet as fairy floss

now swallowing the sorrow
we slouch too sensitive in our seat
feeling sticky in self pity
finding comfort in bitter sweet
Oh wake from the stinking wallow
may we learn a thing or two
feels good moping in warm and fuzzy
but so does barefoot in warm poo

That feeling, that you are alone
should remind many, not some
that all people are alone
and you’re not the only one
that feeling when you’re lonely
is not the experience of a few
so therefore, no one is really alone
when we’re all lonely too