Tell Me Where It Hurts

It isn't that I want to avoid you

It's that I don't want to have to

Make contact

With you.

Physical, verbal, even visual really.

It isn't that I find you repulsive,

Quite the opposite.

I cannot see you because of the way your eyes,

Calm and gentle,

Burn straight through me.

I cannot talk to you because your voice,

Soft and soothing,

Slides like a knife across my own throat.

I cannot be around you because your smile,

Warm and genuine,

Is like a thousand shards of glass piercing my tender flesh.

But by far the most painful thing of all

Is the smile I am forced to give you in return.

Empty Breaths

Its times like this,

Lying in the dark alone,

That you realise how quiet

Your own breathing is;

And how empty the pauses

Between each breath feel.

So dark and so alone

That you have to connect

Pencil to paper,

You have to feel the rush

Of words pouring emotions

Onto a page.

Great poetry,

It is said,

Grows from the ashes

Of sorrow.

Bollocks.

This doesn't seem all that good.

What?

Jarring/

Pow. Right in the kisser

and you're down

Down!

Down into the earth at last.

Shake yourself off and get back into the

circle of life.

Pow. Smack. Suck it all in,

take all you can and get high off the very atmosphere

which you generate with those big, beautiful eyes.

The same eyes

THE VERY SAME!

they saw it all as it unfolded,

watched the armies crumble

and the women cry.

How can you stand it?

Looking though me,

day by day,

watching my bones as they crumble

to what?

Dust? Ash? Who cares?

I am fading.

I'll take you with me,

if you like,

to my special hideaway -

a land where nobody knows left from

black and no one will see us or follow us and we can be

free.

Dirt doesn't taste like chocolate

or even shit,

tastes like failure.

Get up,

brush yourself off

spit the failures out of your mouth

and get back into the circle.

Eden

Have you ever felt like life

Is just cruising on by,

Almost like everything is just

Too perfect?

Not having a care in the world,

Having the days drift lazily into

Happy nights.

Turn on the news to see

Peace and prosperity

In place of

War and hunger.

Not having to worry about anyone else,

About hurting their feelings,

About living up

To expectations.

Have you ever felt that your life

Was on track,

That you are where you're meant to be

And that things couldn't get much better?

When you're able to just look up at the sky

And appreciate the birds and the clouds,

The stars.

Have you ever felt like life

Was going the way you wanted it to?

No, neither have I.

Life and its Mysteries

Have you ever had someone open your eyes

And then realised how much you wanted to stay asleep?

They say there's no such thing

As original thought.

So please, if you've had this one,

How do you cope

If you can't go back to sleep?

How do you cope with the reality

That your life has been a dream?

That who you thought you were:

The guy who could fall forever

Without hitting the ground,

The one who had the answers,
Who never needed the stepping stones
To cross the lake.
What if that isn't you at all?

What if you really are falling,
The ground spiralling towards you,
And nobody waiting to catch you below..

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Forever Is A Very Long Time

A word,

A wave,

A simple movement in another direction

And thats it.

A true goodbuy, it is said,

Doesn't happen unless you let it.

You never say goodbye forever unless

You want to;

You choose to.

That doesn't make it any easier though,

Letting go, letting someone walk away,

When you know you may not see them

In forever.

Which, in case you hadn't deduced,

Is a very long time.

It can last an hour, a day,

Or it can last for years.

It is torturous, it is lonely,

Yet we put ourselves through it constantly.

We never have a choice.

There really is no such thing as a happy goodbye,

Good riddance is a myth. There is always a pang of regret.

Sometimes that is all you can feel..

Who Are We/You?

Three hours have passed

Of the new decade.

Things are slowing down,

The lights are going off.

Someone had better blow out the candle in the bathroom.

Pulling on our blankets,

Curling into our sleeping bags,

Fighting for space on the sofa.

The three of us huddle together,

My head on your shoulder and his in your lap.

Sleep seems unlikely, but we give it a shot.

Four hours have passed

And we're not sleepy.

Everyone else is asleep,

We cannot let them know we remain

Unslumbering.

Our hands stroke his hair,

Together,

Fingertips dancing lightly over palms,

Through hair.

Five hours have passed.

Who are we, really?

Three bodies, minds,

People all in need of companionship

For an evening.

Just for an evening.

After this we shall go home,

Live our own lives,

Be content, happy, with the people we have.

But I, at least, will always remember this night.

Six hours have passed.

I am asleep.