Wednesday, December 13

Love. Means nothing.
What's the point?
You love someone
You spend your life with them.
You die?

What is the fucking point?
Why the fuck do we waste our time?
And what precisely is making good use of it?
We have very little time.
And what the fuck do we do with it?

*dies*

Thursday, November 30

I don't need you.
But I can't let you go.
I don't want you.
But I'll always hold on.
You keep me together.
You rip me apart.
Your inside my head.
Get out.

I never invited you.
But in you came.
I never opened a door.
But you entered.
You live inside me.
You feed on my thoughts.
Get out.

Leave me alone.
Go away and die.
I've told you before.
But you'll never go.
As long as I live.
When I die you die.
And follow me still.
Get out.

Wednesday, November 29

THE INTEREST.

I feel so alone,
When I'm with anyone but you.

But you don't care,
You don't know who I am.

I wish I could tell you how I feel.
But that's just a dream to me, it'll never be real.
Why? Why?

I wish I could tell you.
But I lost the chance.
Because I was too afraid.
And he wasn't.

Why? Why? Why wasn't it me? Why couldn't I tell you?

Why? Why?

Thursday, November 23

I wrote something, but it sucked.
Dan, you know how I feel.
Take better care.
My Haiku

I need some peace.
I've got to get away.
But I'm tied on a leash.

Friday, November 17

Fake Smile.

Watch.
See that?
That's a smile.
Now watch again.
The same smile.
And again and again,
That smile.
That practised, perfected, precise smile.
Never falters, does it?
That smile that displays all the sencerity and deep feeling
Of a walnut.
It surfaces, when needed.
And always does the trick.
She smiled as I bled.
I wished I was dead.
Can't get it out of my head.
That smile.
That irrisitable, unchanging smile.
But I need peace, just for a while.
As time passes,
I forget.
But now,
It comes back.
That same smile, over again.
I look at you and I forget again.
I forget everything.
I see only you.
Nothing exists,
Except you.
You rarely smile,
For you have scarce little to be happy about.
But when you do, it is real.
I wish I could see it.
But I'm always in the way.
A crowded room.
Lights, glaring.
Pearly white teeth.
And a perfect smile.
And I'm not there.
Neither are you.
Let me see you smile.
I've felt it so many times.
Your world is harsh,
But you can laugh, now and then.
That smile. Once more it rises.
I hate it with a passion.
It never leaves me.
Always haunts me.
I run to hide.
But in the end I'm trapped.
By you.

Wednesday, November 15

Visiting Hour, Always Too Much, But Never Enough.

Welcome to my life,
The place where I am me,
Welcome to this little place,
My lonely sanctury.

Please do come in,
I won't be a bad host,
What'll it be,
Cuppa tea and some toast?

Have a seat,
Won't be long,
I'll be careful, so very careful,
Not to put a foot wrong.

So now, how've you been?
What's happened since I left?
I'm so sorry to here,
About poor Ronnie's theft.

Me? Nothing much,
Just hanging around,
Saw a tree in the storm,
Watched it fall to the ground.

And how are the kids,
How much have they grown?
And Benny, how's he?
Still living alone?

That's a shame,
He's a good man,
But I guess he had no place,
In society's plan.

And Fred passed away,
Did you hear?
They say that Clarissa,
Didn't shed a single tear.

What's that you say?
Going so soon,
Oh well, if you must,
Here, take some balloons.

No, for the kids,
Send them my love.
Say hello, to everyone
In the pub up above.

See you next year.

Monday, November 13

I'm just a stereotype,
And that's all I'll ever be.
I'm just a stereotype,
Just between you and me.
Living life to an uncontrolled formula,
Struggling to be myself.

But I'm a product of 20th century egotism.
Not to shift the blame, it was mine.
I'm a stereotype, living my life.
I'm a stereotype, rolling the dice.
What you see is what you get,
But, believe me, you ain't seen nothing yet.

Stereotyped, I fit the the bill,
Stereotyped, trying to make it by myself.
But I know I can't, and I'll need your help.
Too proud to ask, too lazy to try.
Too afraid to fail.

You need never have met me,
To know who I am.
In the end, we're all somebody's dog.
Will you be mine?
Still so angry that I couldn't see through the fog.
Living my life,
To a stereotype.

I can't step outside these boundaries,
Can't change what I am.
And I flounder about on the end of a line,
Tied forever to my stereo-life.