to tell a lie
succesfully
is to fully reign supreme over any art form
for lying trumps them all

i know why sin feels good
we all do
why wouldn't something bad feel good
it's just how life goes
but it gets repetitive and addictive
maybe not so nice after all
you almost try to break through the surface
but get bored when you break through
so you just immerse yourself deeper
because contentment is boring

There's so much beauty in sadness and grief
and in the colours black, white and grey

but today there isn't
it's sad i guess that sadness has to be misunderstood
and that these colours are seen as so negative

they are so beautiful
and comforting
and striking
and real

but life taints everything pure
it forgives no one

maybe i am life

Do you know what it feels like to excel at both receiving pain and inflicting it in equal measure?

Listening to Pianos become the teeth.
I'm still 13 and lying on the floor of my childhood bedroom
the rims of my eyes, underlined pink with shed tears
-
I'm not 13 anymore

trying to stay optimistic is hard
why can't i just let my anxiety eat me alive?
-
but i fight it
because i can't let myself take the easy way out
God it's so hard
-


I'm so excited though
for change
not just any change...the change i've been thirsting after for years
but i let self doubt ruin it
-
i get confused
am i confident or not?
-
regardless of my confidence I suppose the show has to go on
i'm sure i'll find myself again soon

We'll dance like they did in old London
Curled hair and elegant dresses
you'll take my arm, twirl me around, then we'll stumble outside
remove your suit jacket and set it aside
you'll show me a world of rough hair and adventures.
You rip off your suit and don a large jacket, you take my arm and twirl me around,whispering in my ear, "there's so much to see..just you and me, come with me I'll take the lead" and off he goes leading me into a love hate life.
He twirled me around and the world and now I can't breathe.He's gone.
Oh what a life he showed me.

The night grew quiet and lonely
So I chased my high

*

I forced myself to
I forced myself to

To sense

I never loved, only lusted

i'm tired of conflict
of anger
of sadness
of pain
regret
hesitance
playing the game
being one step ahead
being calculated
mysterious
having a poker face
being reserved
staying relevant
trying
everything
all these irrelevant things
all these first world problems
are so relevant

just grow up
these things are so tiny
so insignificant so pathetic
block them out

but i can't
who can?
no one
and they're lying if they say they can

Heavy breathing

Lip biting
Teeth grinding
Stop writhing

Heavy breathing

Don't . Wanna . Get . Outta . Bed . Bcus . I'm . Too . Strung . Up . Over . You .

this is my outlet for negative emotions because what ******* wants to part with positive emotions
i do this to achieve a balance

I've really ****** myself over
So much potential wasted
Because I wasn't careful with time
I played with time
I felt like I controlled it
When really
I'm a slave to time

Repeat the process

There's a fire, and its sparking up
Somewhere in the ether,
Run run as fast as you can
He'll catch you one day
But
Not if you're faster than his plan

when he told me to wait
every single minute felt like rejection
for once, time was finally accounted for

Why do people expect poetry to make sense
When poetry is made up of emotion.

step into this world full of dreams
the ring leader will show you the way
hop into his top hat and escape to a far and distant place
marvel at the spinning cups and sorcerers
and watch the kids in glee riding the marey-go-round.
you see the stripes on the ringleaders jacket? pin straight lines? that's a map of this world full of dreams
this is no circus show
this is a freak show
enjoy the ride

my life exists behind closed doors
i swallowed the key
you can try kicking down the door

i just wanna get to know you(r dad)

my body's natural defense system prevents me from ever releasing a true emotion
anything I feel
anything I display
is a figment of my imagination

What would happen if I wrote to an abandoned email address?

the come down is the best part
it's so familiar
so real
it's when I want you the most
ask anyone....
on the come down I yearn for you and only you
and i relish in that feeling
because it's so strong
that when you're not next to me
I manifest the parts of you that i want
and i hallucinate
a little bit
and i close my eyes
take another hit
and you're gone again

I want to play a game with you
A twisted and deranged game
A strange, unknown pastime

A lifelong dispute
Between me, and addiction

I remember when you told me that you didn't miss her
But I caught you today
Trying to get back together,
With her...

somewhere between the drink that burns my throat and Anderson Paak's voice, i find my thoughts drifting to the same place they always do

somewhere, something went wrong

I saw him with his eyes shut
Watching me with his eyes covered
The dust from his hat only intensifying the clarity of his vision
This gas station is his

Waste no time
Please

\Collections
ever growing
we like to collect for no point
rip things out
then leave me to sit there
collections
picking something up
collected

i want you to feel what i feel through my writing as if it truly is my minds word and not just me fabricating a bunch of crap up with a few large words or a poetic sound

The warmth of our passion
It sparked and I enjoyed the whiplash of fire looking forward to each time you burned me
For the pain against pain
Null.

A young boy, the lonely poet they called him
He was a truth no one could see
At night he escaped from his room and roamed the barren alleyways
hand in his leather jacket
stolen bottle of alcohol in his backpack
drugs in his bloodstream
words stuck in his throat
it's a funny thing
the fact that he felt the night air understood him the most and was willing to listen to his broken whispers of speech
he longed for a certain type of romance
he longed for the smudged ink in his notebook where his soul resides to merge together and form a girl that will **** him whilst bringing him back to life

I've forgotten how to act around you
At the start of all this I was the slickest and suavest siren around
But now I squirm at the thought of your stare
And become aware of my breathing
As if this paranoia takes me over to the point where Its as if I am the only one in a room that the focus is on
I try to sneak glances at you
And it's quite untrue
When I think I may just have a future with you
Because you
Yes you
Are just a figment of my imagination
An object to fuel my desires,
The real ones at least.
My interest is waning
Yet I'm still struggling with the failure of this
Because when I think I may have a future with you
Suddenly you're not just a figment of my imagination
you're real
And I can't believe it
That you stand before me
And now you're just another distraction in my life

Notice? why didn't I ever notice
till now

Never satisfied no matter the success

I exercise control in every aspect of my life that requires collective elegance and that is, to be correct, my life.
I taught myself the value of how you conduct yourself, how you carry yourself and just what actions have people eating out of the palm of your hand,
My courtesy's often are in collaboration with my fantasies, my fantasies are often in love with ambitions, my ambitions were then caught fraternizing with reality....
they ran off together
and brought back a child 2 years later
when ambitions manifest themselves in your daily life
it's a little like getting high off your own supply
and really, I ask myself why....
why
why
and that is why I am what I am today
this very second
and to think change is yet to come

my interest in you is an obsession
and i've found a way
to make you obsessed
with yourself
too

plagued endlessly by empty memories of you
laps
you run in my head
up
down
up
down

up
there
when it was all good

down
there
when it was all...i..whatever

i mean when we reach the midpoint
who said we had to cancel each other out
after all that we had
we have nothing
after all of it
you were more
more than anyone... anything.... any person... everything

can you believe
we are down to communicating without interaction
our words just drift past each other
our words are mere bystanders in each others lives
just there in the background
still significant
but not enough
to be the main characters of the story anymore
just piecing together
passively

I place communication within the eyes and the mouth

Anger is like that villain we used to laugh at in cartoons
when we were kids...when we were invisible

I learnt that all of them craved power,
craved control,
a purpose,
and not much else.

They wanted to be noticed,
they wanted to make a change whether it was good or bad,
make their mark in this world and the hereafter
they were special
they were different

I learnt that they live inside of us,
in our hollow shells that we call a body.
Late at night when you can't sleep,
these villains are awake,
plotting and planning,
and wondering
just how they can achieve world *******
over your body

Anger makes us shout so we get noticed
Anger makes us different,
it changes us so that we can never recognise ourselves in the mirror
ever again
and we never know whether that change is good or bad,
and i don't think we'll ever know

Anger gives us a purpose,
something to blame,
something to hate,
we channel all our efforts into hate
till it consumes us

Today my time has come,
to be one of the villains that used to live inside of me.
They consumed me,
broke me down and turned me into one of them...

I am anger.

Staying up late to write about my emotions is never a good idea

I gain nothing and just get tired
but it’s an addiction I guess, maybe
It’s the act of writing that keeps me coming
Pouring myself into the letters of the alphabet
Even if it means a couple of drops spill

i'm impatient yet carefully calculated
rash but completely under control
everything moves fast
time, my breathing, my thoughts, sheer motion but it's blurred in complete stillness
it's infiltrating and wondrous
easy to get lost in, hard to complicate

i don't believe in full stops

how can i crave contact with people
yet ignore everybody that contacts me

GOD

satiate my craving

It's a rich kid party

Be the better man

my emotions are the fuel to my writing
and boy are they a finite resource
I feel like I  just extract them from my very being and force feed them to my keyboard
maybe my keyboard has turned into a parasite
now i'm addicted to letting my emotions leave me