Internal Conversation
I have tried too hard to comfort you. Days go by when you do not listen to me. I want you to understand that it will get better.
Nothing will ever change. Life is a slow fall into my grave. Words mean little when any one can talk.
You are worth so much. So many people love you and what will happen to them if you leave? You will stain with sadness.
You value me above my reality. I choose to let you see the refined part of my personality. Why should I worry about your opinion when it makes no difference? Years will pass and no one will remember.
Everyone will remember you. Do not be selfish.
Of course. I have decided to become a monster in a mask.
I did not mean that.
Yes, you did.
Beverages
Now maybe I am caught between two. There is no option either way. My decision is unnecessary for the future. It is merely a thought stimulated by imagination. Faults in both. Love in both. Hatred in both. All brewed out of the teabag that is my brain. The tea is not sweet nor warm but rather cold and left unattended. Many are reluctant to take a sip. Something left so cold for so long; almost iced. They assume taste would bring nothing but bitterness but only until one tries, would one know. Once someone braves the cold they will realise that the bitterness does not exist and it was simply a lie to find the one worth waiting for. As soon as the liquid hits their lips the illusion is discovered and the warmth returned. All it takes is for one as brave as he. I will wait for either or neither. Never or forever. Many possibilities are too dizzy dancing on their ethanol graves. Blurred vision and clouded judgement. Symptoms they long for because they are too afraid to experience the diminished reality of society.
Alyth
There are many people I know. There are many people I have seen. Parties. Bus stops. Schools. Yet none of them will ever create that feeling that I feel for you. The crisp air that surrounds each thought to illuminate from your brain. I will never know if what I feel is pure infatuation or jealousy. I doubt myself. If it means what I assume, then I worry. I hope this doubt does not justify my thoughts. I would not mind owning your fingerprints along the skin stretched across my spine. I wish I were a poet so I could express my love disguised as metaphors crafted out of letters. Yet nothing will compare to your occasional questioning and my current need to please you. I tell you truths but conceal them with sarcasm. It seems that all I write are love stories. I am no fan of Romeo and Juliet. She will take advantage for no reason. She mouths phrases that I try to block out. Unfortunately, I can lip read and I do not like the words I comprehend. She enjoys your hands around her waist. I would crumble between them and lean back to achieve more contact between our bodies. The electricity created. I can imagine forever but I will never know. Nothing is changeable. Years will pass. The impossibility that you share my sensations. You never will. Standards I cannot rise above will always be put in place. In a year I might not even remember you name. I will be infatuated by another. When I argue about the uncomfortable experience of touching, it is not because I do not bathe in it but merely that it is not your touch. Any other hand deadens me. Yours brings life. I am a friend. No more. No less. To cope with such an occasion will never be easy. When I say “no” to your inquires it is the truth. Yet, I lie with my following explanation. I fear my eyes falling upon you with her. I fear you. I know you will be gone. Under the radar within a month. That is a shame. I am a hypocrite because, by then, if you were not gone I would complain. You would kill. I wish for this friendship to end. I try not to want your feelings for her to stop because that is a sin. I cannot help it. Whilst I wait to fall numb again, I would rather not see you. Yet, am I not the one to instil conversation? I am contradictory line in your favourite book. That is all.
Desk
She scratches the ink on the wood
Thoughts seeping out her eyes
Forced to constrict her ideas
Deafened by their sighs
The thought of education is not a looming one
Just the people that join the ride
She cannot bear their presence
Not another second by their side
She endures each second
Not even hinting at a flinch
Listen to the lies
Hoping it’s a dream; she just has to pinch
Soaked in Velvet
His eyes matched the colour of the sea when the sun glimmers along its frothy waves.
The water bugs danced in the fresh, salty air.
His lips sang like flamingos’ footsteps against the silky waters in the depths of the South American jungles.
Pink and delicate; soaked in velvet.
Swing on the Chandelier
Swing on the chandelier
Pretend it is fun
What is the enjoyment factor?
Close to none
Azure
When everything is a blur
Don’t sit back and let it stir
Take control of the wheel
Nothing will ever feel as surreal
Silent Sin
You recite words with pain
Re-living the experience again
You force the sound through your lips
Recall the words on the script
You seem so detached from it all
As if you don’t remember the weight of the fall
But really it nibbles on your skin
Nothing can block out the silent sin
Forced
I say that I want to be loved by anyone
But I’m just lying to myself
I want a kiss with meaning and hope
And not just for the sake of it
I can’t be bothered with the small talk
I want to get carried away
I don’t want to force the passion onto you
If it’s not there
The problem is that no one feels
When I feel
Or they feel something without their heart
And I feel empty
What is the point of motion if it hurts?
What is the point of motion if it hurts?
When you sit alone at 2am
Let your mind sink into sadness
Mull over what could have been
What is the point of motion if it hurts?
Your bones grow weak and soft
Nerves are frail
Toes are cold with sweat
What is the point of motion if it hurts?
You read but you don’t inhale
Permission to query the question
But your mind drifts as if it were never asked
But, what is the point of motion if it hurts?
