Fingers entwined
As we walk
Adoration gazes
In peripherals.
Security squeezes
Stopped in the hallway
For the sweetest kiss
On the way to the kitchen.
Comfortable silence
On the couch
Never too far away
From my love.

Juggle the wants and needs
In a spotlight for all to see
Laughing and pointing
From the grandstand at me
Applauding and hissing
An extra in your movie
Just passing through
Nothing to see here
The blood is just tomato sauce
The tears are only rain
The scars are all clay and make up
The mask hides all the pain
I only feel the bad
The angst, anger, fear and hate
Desensitised to love and adoration
From the world I chose to create
When we talk
You're not talking to me
I am shell of who I used to be
A husk of a human entity
It has all gone amiss
I cannot juggle anymore
Exhausted and ready for hospice
This jester, in the spotlight, on the floor.

She's quiet tonight
After our conversation
I had an opinion
Then she went quiet.
Her responses are weak
Her mannerisms timid
I can feel my anger building
But I internalise the demon.
I do not sleep well
Nor does she
I can hear her breathing
I know when she's asleep.
She wakes me unintentionally
I feel I barely slept
She apologises and leaves for work
While I listen to every footstep.
I cannot concentrate at work
Basic responses to trivial questions
I do just enough
To defer any suspicion.
I want her to say I'm wrong
That she doesn't agree
But she internalised her demon
Just like me.

Our struggles make us who we are
The blatent cracks in our armour,
The pain we breathe on our own
Must be exhaled with eachother.

Accepting flaws is human
No one owns perfection,
Take a breath, take some time
And come back when you're ready.

It's ok to be wrong
It's ok to feel out of sorts,
Control your reactions
Control your thoughts.

The answers are there
If you choose to seek,
Share your pain with those you love
Cry, eat and sleep.

I miss them.

Secretly, selfishly I want to return,
To be a part of their broken lives,
Which I had a hand in breaking.

I miss the familiar chaos,
The insults in jest,
The tears and the depth,
I just miss it.

I am so alone now,
Living two lives,
With a family I have no history with,
But with a woman I am so deeply in love with.

I need a common ground,
A painful compromise,
I am missing out,
On being a father to my children.

They need me,
And I need them,
They have gone so astray,
As have I.

They have grown up,
They are growing up,
And I am just a fortnightly event,
Never really present.

No amount of apologies,
Can make up for my vacancy,
I cannot be myself here,
Not fully.

I love my wife,
I love my new family,
I married into this,
But, the vows didn't represent reality.

I feel I am breaking,
I feel I am losing them,
I feel I have no control,
In raising them.

I will have to change this,
They will gain a day,
And she will have to sacrifice a day,
I'm sorry (again), but I need this.

Hanging by a tendon.
Feelings have teeth,
Isolate the soul,
To feel... something.
No reasoning,
Irate simply because.
Prickles behind shallow eyes...
Something is wrong.

Just need a minute
To exhale.

May have been here before,
The same feelings of angst,
Familiar internal screams,
Writhing and twisted within.
Tense, blank, and fickle,
Lost in a world under skin,
Greying out the love,
To feel... something.

Just need a minute
To exhale.

Alien home,
Out of place,
Skin doesn't fit,
Like once hoped.
Unsure how to continue,
The mask is back on,
Deep breaths,
Just get some sleep.

Just need a minute
To dream.

I wish you all the best in your endeavours.

May it all fall in your lap
With minimal effort,
And desired results.

May you sleep sound with a clear conscience.

Undisturbed, at peace with your past.
May your trauma be slight and easily managed, making your life exciting and full of love.

I wish you this, as I battle against icy winds, adorned in old blankets, weeks unwashed.
Addictions unbreakable as the ignorance is bliss, social interactions often threatening and violent, lips blistered and skin weathered, all my belonging together in a shopping cart I stole last week. A hot meal is just a dream, but when achieved, is enjoyed in the shadows of the city, often eaten with my buckled, white knuckle hands. I don't ask for money anymore, as the colour has drained from my eyes and hair, and the strangers don't care, they are always in a rush somewhere, with everything but nothing to spare. When I die, noone will be notified, noone will cry, I will be simply a gross memory for a medic, having to drag my corpse from wherever I am, reeking of misery, loneliness and feces.

I wish you all the best.