Be the better man

no galaxies and stars
no *******

the sickness
began to rise
slowly up my throat

the shaking started
to rock my world

it was time to start coping with things
instead of being comfortable with things

i'm overridden with lust
my heavy lidded eyes are bloodshot
clawing at these sheets
barely able to breathe
biting my lip so hard even blood refuses to escape the fire within me
i'm typing this whilst you watch me
*******

haha
in my religion
music is forbidden
because it captivates the heart

it really does

Imagine if you could send your thoughts to someone
in little pulses of light
so
when you think of them
and you think about words
but you can't form them into a coherent sentence fit enough to condemn you
these little light pulses
could
say it all

pictures really hit you hard
pictures that show words...hit you harder

you say I'm cold
but i know you like it
when I'm tight

guess you could say
karma really came
and hit me in my mind
it was just a waiting game
after all these months
guess you could say I deserved it
I deserved you
but fate decided to be a little *****
fate woke up and decided that you weren't supposed to be in the forefront of life
fate sidelined you
aka i still see you
i still scan for you
i still feel you
on my skin
i still hear you
i smell you on my skin
i anticipate you
i excite you
i entice you
you frustrate me
you play with me
i close my eyes
i close your eyes

i like to play
play games
play with my words
with minds
manipulate
twist
ensnare
control

Art not without ambition

i've been wondering if i should write a diary
but is it worth it?

i could give you a little attention
but not all of it
i mean uh
i could
but i don't need to
but i uh
i want to
and i will
maybe

Am I a poet? Do I know it? Am i just waiting for a sonnet? To tuck into my bonnet while I scrub the floors of my Lady's castle? Or am I impatient to receive my Haiku? Just to see it stamped into the pavement or ripped by some man's shoe? Or perhaps a good old story? To brighten my days that are blurry? Maybe a speech will do? To empower my sky to change to a lovely hue? I think I'm just waiting for you? To help me escape from my youth.

eyes are so important
but i feel that they're too relevant
but why is it a bad thing for eyes to be relevant
maybe it's the 21st century human nature to lust for irrelevant obscurity, to mask our own relevance
because relevance isn't short lived
and we all hate commitment

human nature: to lie
what is lying
a trap? a weapon? a prize? justification? a game?
just words that we overreact to?

to lie is to serve justice

I caught your eye
now
I'm trying to catch your eye

one day

I think the worst thing about the way I’m living these days is that my self destruction isn’t even fun

they always say to watch out for those who don't clap when you win...what *******
don't overlook the ones that do clap, like a fool, for the best hiding place is in plain sight
the only clap that matters is yours
be thankful to those ones that don't clap, just so you don't owe anyone anything

PHANTASMAGORIA

Tell me, is my anger justified by the existence of passion?

grey rooms and pink thoughts
if i believe in my thoughts
maybe i could paint this room pink forever

just for me
and i could visit this room forever

things never affect me
things have never affected me
until now
and i can't understand what's ******* changed
i'm fighting with myself
to be what i used to be
but it's like my mind is a stubborn *******
so it's gonna continue to **** me over
it's been a week
a ******* week

The whole world out there
For me to glide across
Love.

inherently creepy please back away *****
i'm just a *******

Sometimes I’m not sure whether the past was even that great
I look upon it with such longing for those better days

I am the unreliable narrator in my own life
And I am ungrateful for the present too

poetry is to live in the moment
poetry is to submerge your head into water
then break through the surface like it's the last thing you'll ever do
poetry is any unraveled emotion that  needs to feel whole again

complete clarity brought about by a distorted image,
clarity so clear that it compares to the broken glass that ricochets off your vision.
swift
fluid,
think of ice, a realization, much like ice that remembers to stay frozen or to melt
clarity so clear that it gives you the same head rush as tilting your head back and letting your lungs fill with air.
natural
paced
ragged,
think of water, overlooked, much like my thoughts
clarity so clear, so sharp, that it is both inaudible and invisible.
faster
desperate
intoxicate
remember those lines, fine white lines, that altered our minds...yeah just like that
clarity so clear that i just don't understand
and understanding has no comparison.....

poems are raw fragments of thoughts or emotion, a chance to indulge in something as frivolous as acknowledging the truth. A poem is singular, to you and only you, because only you matter, to you

A few day's ago my father took me out and we ended up taking a stroll down the ever famous memory lane.
Thousands, perhaps millions, had stumbled down this very lane, but to me, I alone had only discovered it.

hah how long till you dump me
i;m yours and only yours, right
wrong, left
hah kidding, unconditional, unsurpassed
wait what
l

i have 15,000 slurs that could prove that I never forgot to let your name slip from my lips even when I slipped away from myself

all I've ever known is a life of luxury
lavish and grand
gold and shiny
sheer darkness and value
it adorns my skin
apparent to all that see me in the way i carry myself
watch me walk past you, you'll be walking next to me if i want you to
it's only a matter of time

suddenly she turned her head and there it was, the sun shone brightly and the trees swayed gently
She knew life would still be ****** up but at least she’ll get through today

It's funny how we like to sometimes drift off and imagine our lives to be something else.
it's funny how the people who have a stable life will dream and imagine of having the delight of an addiction to something whether it be drugs,alcohol,love or ******.
it's always an addiction to something  
people like to feel like they've got the weight of the world on their shoulders so they can say that they wished they were dead.
funny isn't it how we like to turn everything into a dark paradise
ever wonder why we can never make sense of our thoughts?
and ever wonder why we like to over complicate things?
and why we like to reassure ourselves
and how we like ourselves to be the only ones to understand something like this but still wait around for someone else to understand so an attraction can form?
and why we ask so many questions and continue to leave them unresolved?

More.All we ever want is more.All i ever want is just more.Nothing is enough.
More of what though?
I can't keep myself on one subject, I just left 3 other pieces of writing in the space of 10 minutes
My MIND IS RAGING ERRATIC ELECTRIC AND I CAN NEVER HOPE TO RESTORE ORDER, EVERY LITTLE THING IS STORED AND YET CONSTANTLY FLOATING IN THIS SPACE FOR THOUGHT. IT'S FRUSTRATING FULFILLING AND INTRIGUING BUT MOST OF ALL A MYSTERY.

When someone is angry and leads you into anger
On a lucky day, I'll stop and ponder
And just wonder
Why
Just what could have gone wrong in their day
To spark this anger
And sometimes getting to the root of the problem can be enlightening and fulfilling
But most of the time it only Serves to fuel anger
You realise that you're caught in this vicious circle of trying to justify another's action
Just to put your own emotions at rest
But I'm uncomfortable with empathy
And thinking of somebody else's feelings
It's very boring
It's unappreciated
So we should all stop
Not that I expected anybody to appreciate it
Because humans are horrible creatures
And human nature is the most sickening of all
The ******, the condemned and the crazy
We've all congregated here today
To witness the mass destruction of ourselves
Say your last words
Eat your last meal
And say goodbye

why come back just to leave
it's like needing to walk through a door but just closing it instead

wanted for my body...in real life
...wanted for my mind...in my mind

My silence bites him like the frost in winter
My mystique eats at him till he no longer exists
I wear honesty on my eyes and lustre on my lips
But now He sees through that disguise, when did he become like this?

Sharing thoughts with complete strangers to either criticise, chew on, dismiss or appreciate or just an outlet that everyone can find solace in. Whether you are the writer, the reader, the dreamer, the listener.....

Fake love

i guess you could say our eyes are the most selfish things to exist
whatever we lay eyes on
we usually want
our eyes....wandering
glancing
teasing
widening
focusing
manipulating

She stared at his arm
she glared at his arm
marks on his arm
scratches on his arm
taint on his arm
what had she done?
what had he done?
she opened her mouth,
and lifted her arm
striking fear.
Flinching away
inching away
shrinking away
until he's gone,
scratched away.

when I'm on top of you
riding you
at 3am
i throw my head back
just as you scratch my bare back
and grip my hair in your iron tight fist

it's then, at this point
that i want you to drag your fathers blade from the hollow of my throat all the way down to what gave you all this pleasure for 7 years

i hope i look cute when you're finished with me, Doctor .

I'm Looking Hopeful

you only think what i want you to think
when i want you to think