Someday I will meet you-
and probably be sadly disappointed.

Please don't say you need me
You only need food, water, shelter and clothing to survive.

Please don't say you want me
I am not food for your lust.

Please don't say you will die for me
I'll ask you to jump off the cliff right away.

Please don't say you will follow me
I don't need a stalker.

Please don't say you will protect me
Because it makes you a hypocrite.

Please don't say you love me
I am not ready for another heartbreak.

Life just throws you loops
And strange circles
  That you've traversed
Millions of times before,
  And this world
Is physically rotating in
  It's most tedious way possible
Day in and day out,
  And the funniest part of all
Is that the definition of
  INSANITY
Is "doing the same thing over and over again
  and expecting different results"
According to Einstein.

          We're all crazy.
          Just taste a small droplet
          Of pretentious poison
          And take it
          Because it's embodiment
          Is everyone.

Wonderland has an alleyway you know,
said Alice to her grandson of three.
It's not all shoes, and ships, and ceiling wax,
unbirthdays and cups of tea.

Where the white rabbit is on time for once.
From South Africa he ran,
To be tried before the red queen -
for shooting Mary Ann.

It's where the buildings are not simply filled
with cakes and cups of tea;
They explode - not from happiness -
but planes and TNT.

Where we need not paint the roses red
nor support the white knights plight.
For recently he lost his head -
Now they're painting England white...

I met an artist yesterday,

sat in solitary silence,

In the shadowy corner of an affluent bar.

And cloaked he was,

by babble of students,

Boasting of wealth and test results.



molested In the attire of a catholic school,

His cigarettes born from bible pages;

and -- Inebriated from the blood of Christ --

surrounded by empty glass apostles,

He paints the papers,

In a masterful stroke --

Of pointilistic precision --

In a viscous hash oil

That he had melted on a crucifix.



The artist drunk, and drunk

He drowned himself,

Deafened by his liver

Drowning in a sea of expensive whiskey --

It was a miracle that he could walk on it.



And began to rack

the coke he'd wrapped

in a losing lottery ticket --

In plain sight of those

'sophisticated' enough

To use a bathroom cubicle.

And hoovered the diamond shards into his nostril,

Through a rolled up scrap of paper --

A letter for an Oxford Interview

he could not afford to get to.