“There aren’t any bullets in it”, you said as you held the gun so tightly between your legs,
Just one of the firearms you keep on you in case you want to end it all
(Which you do).
You find no passion in life, so you resort to ******* people off and staring at screens to fill the time.
You dull all of your senses that you can with anything around you.
You want to end it all, and you plan to soon,
If someone else doesn’t end it for you.
“There aren’t any bullets in it”, you said as you fought to keep her from shooting you in the head
Because that spot was only reserved for you.

Not everything works out.
Don’t expect it to go your way.

Artificiality kills me.
It really does.
I hate when people's only notable characteristics are their attractiveness.
There is more to life than appearance.
There is noise to enjoy, words and laughter.
Please, I beg of you, look into the depths of a soul because
I can guarantee that beauty will fade if it is the only thing you focus on.

See, here’s the thing...
I really wish I was sorry.

Dawn a constant drunk, waves modernity on,
Nights in purple doze, while head in rags’ sat,
Mind pats window pane, sky occupied, flat
Hangs the figures that push plague, condensation
Outside is hugged in damaged and breathless car park clots.

Close the arriving scenes depress, far and close by,
Screaming seagulls sing dreams scattered wide,
Cuts the closing of now yesterday’s hope
Soul-bruise rates sit low tonight.

Danger plays path fields bedsheets house
Graceful clock plays dropped fate in loft
Echos hand by hand  between beams
Downstairs door lock snapped atoms ring
Floorboards creak quake trepidatious
Eyelids meet strange death amusements
Waiting gun hyped howls air tight
Rail, tracks, interrupted delight.

Hospitable welcome exploited.
There's a colonial scent in the hotel
And they say Islamists are peadophiles

The mirror on the borderline dictates fate:
Err we’re not letting them in!
Meanwhile

Our guys are innocent its fake news.
Meanwhile
Faces harden into hurting for a life

Time wastes away any life they might’ve met,
The shining bill that got them into bed
Perpetually puts it all to bed.

The Naked Emperor
Switches the lightswitch:
Dark abyss dark abyss  

Float into the sky
Submerge in a cloud
Watch Judith merrily

Chat to Aristotle
About the beauty of flies
That ripened your summer street air.

Ignore the clog of your throat.
Struggle struggle struggle for breath
Breathless sound whispers
That word:

The heaviness of air
Pressed a little bit harder
On the hole in my chest
When I laid there,
Beaten speechless
By my own words
That were not yet cold

Life’s unchanging surf
lulled me into idle sleep.
Then she hit my shores.