Crossfade

When one moment ends

and another begins

is the same scene made

performed by a different crew?

When one moment ends

and another begins

does it cross fade

or begin anew?

Venn

I have been thinking about expanding

to some new circles more understanding

as I know this perimeter oh too well.

I need to cross to another section

of my venn's related collection

although my next move I cannot tell.

I intend to keep within the clear lines

which display my personalities confines

as long as I play on another trait.

If those sections do not intersect

as I have recently come to expect

I'll have to settle for a figure eight.

I just hope my mind is not two fat naughts,

just some disparant, disagreeing thoughts.

Cowboy Girls

You've been digging your nails

into my vital organs

since the day I set my eyes on you,

you hammered them in tight

in the cool breeze of the night

as my extension grew.

You managed to get to my foundations

and although I was happy

to let you get in deep,

I'm left with a tear

which will always be there

and I fear that this void will keep.

The damage has already been done

and it's too late to wish

that I left my heart's structure alone,

but I won't trust fools

to play with my tools

unless their longevity is known.

Anti-Life

I'm sick of this process,

i'm sick of this routine.

I don't like that what will come

is the same as what has been.

It seems such a struggle

for such little gain

and if I stretch for no reward

is it really worth the strain?

I may as well give up,

I may as well coast

I may as well just enjoy

what I enjoy the most.

Overboard

I have spent my entire life in this boat

which I have been trying to keep afloat

even though it has been sending me sick.

All my friends have been hitting the road,

so with only my foolish self on board

it has been swiftly sinking like a brick.

I can't find the strength to throw myself in

when I barely remember how to swim

and I know reception will be cold,

but I have no choice but to swim for shore

because there's one thing which I know for sure;

I cannot let this place make me grow old.

I'm determined the next time the waves rip

will be the moment when I jump off ship.

Staying Silent

For the first time I took the chance

to leave my past mistakes behind

when the devil asked me to dance

and I defiantly declined.

I could not risk the burn again

now that I'm aware of their guise

and I'm not afraid of the pain;

only those vices I despise.

I did feel a brief temptation

in the darkest hour of night

but temporary elation

got bettered by all that is right.

I'm sure that I'll still face such tests

and I'll have other demons to face

but they will stay unwelcome guests

in my morality's silent grace.

Blister

I have a blister between my fingers

which I have been trying to scrub away

but the lifeless flesh lingers and lingers,

clinging on to my weathered hands like clay.

I have been told that it will go with time

but it still pesters my paranoid mind,

when it's infected with even more grime

with every dirty job that I find.

I cannot simply rest my grubby hands

because they will always need distraction

from either anyone who understands

or anyone who provides them action.

And when the dead skin finally recedes

I will be left with all my restless needs...

Forgotten Land

Some forgotten land with filth

fouling what could be fair,

with crushed plastic coffee cups

keeping confused foxes awake,

and tissue hanging from the tree

like a flag of invasive dominance

as man claims the land as his,

but the life still shines through the dirt

whilst spring bulbs are growing in confidence

in an explosion of bright fashions

which the barbed fences can barely contain

and the skies are so much clearer

than the shingles of glass sweeping the floor.

Even here, in this forgotten land

I can't help but feel the fair will prevail.

Ruins

Foundations crumble over the passed years

and our monuments become our ruins.

We begin to architect our own fears

without noticing what we are doing.

We are the dust among our own rubble,

forever floating in a silent linger,

thick enough to cause lungs so much trouble

but fine enough to slip through our fingers.

And all of this beauty will be a mess

which must be swept up as if it was fake

to be covered up in some glossy dress

to distract from the chaos that we make.

Recently I have started to see the cracks

which cannot disguise what humanity lacks.

Decadent Depression

This self indulgent hypersensitivity

cannot continue to define me

because constant self-pity

is the worst form of vanity.

Hullabaloo

The dissonant din of my daily life

is drowning away my dreamlike daze,

piercing my pondering with a knife

which twists and turns with every chattered craze.

All these voices ring like morning alarms

which cause a cacophonous constant buzz,

loudly assuring that it never harms

whilst my claustrophobic mind tells me it does.

So I try to retreat to my dreamy shell

where I can only hear the beat of my thoughts

but they're always interrupted by that bell

that shrilly cries out some meaningless quotes.

And someday I'll die and all chaos will cease

and then perhaps I'll finally find peace.

Blunt

I prefer the possibility to the practice

because the fact is I only crave flattery,

so faun over me but don't fornicate

unless your words are felt eternally;

for if not I will dress up my dismissal

about as well as you dress your desires.

#rightoutmymouth

All of my heroes

have already talked about

what I want to say.

Sick Of Feeling Sick

When did my immune system grow so weak,

where I was once always healthy and well?

I now feel so sick that I cannot speak,

my throat is bone-dry and it burns like hell.

Where along the line did I lose my strength

to become this faint, pale, miserable mess?

I would once try and go to any length

but now I'm content to settle for less.

Why do I always become so dizzy

when I stand to my aching feet in haste?

I feel like I'm always keeping busy

but I am letting my life go to waste.

I cannot stand all of this feeling ill

and I feel a slave to my failing will.

Anti-Social

I keep feeling uneasy when passing under rotten bridges

as though they'd collapse down onto my head.

I keep feeling queasy whenever I peer in full fridges

as though the food would swallow me whole instead.

I feel a deep anxiety

about my role in society

and where I will fit.

I feel a deep anxiety

about this ill-formed society

and my obligation to live in it.

I keep feeling lost whenever I enter a room

as though every stranger is hostile.

I keep feeling a growing sense of gritted gloom

every time I must force a pseudo-friendly smile.

I feel a deep anxiety

about my role in society

and where I will fit.

I feel a deep anxiety

about this ill-formed society

and my obligation to live in it.

I keep feeling a filthy, feculent shame

every time I remember the subjects in my dreams.

I keep feeling as though everyone else is to blame

just because their reality is never what it seems.

I feel a deep anxiety

about my role in society

and where I will fit.

I feel a deep anxiety

about this ill-formed society

and my obligation to live in it.

The Reason why I can't see the Sunspots in your Eyes

Staring at the sun

makes things seem brighter

but it can make you blind,

so that just when things seem lighter

there's only darkness to find.

Cast Your Sleeves Aside

I will never make a cry for help

because nobody deserves to see my tears

and no matter how loud I cry

it seems as though nobody ever hears.

I feel naked to the world

whenever I expose my fears

but I feel safe in my skin

because I know that noone peers.

I will never be bitter;

I just hate anything sickly sweet

and I'm not a quitter;

or at least until I sense defeat,

but this is the end,

I know when I have been beat

when I can no longer defend

against any adversary I meet.

In Love with a Feeling

My smiling lips now have an upturned curl

which is usually caused by a girl

but this time I have noone but myself.

That is not to say that I am alone

for, even if I may be on my own,

in terms of friendship I have found my wealth.

I have recently got those butterflies

I used to get when I looked in her eyes

and it feels so strange to feel this way.

It feels like a torch shining through my ribcage

onto my skin, so radiant it can't age,

I have been illuminated by the day.

Once again, love has left me reeling

but this time I'm love with a feeling.

Straight Face

Sometimes, I feel happy

and rarely I feel sad

but it's this void in-between

which makes me feel bad.

So should I concentrate

on avoiding gloom

or work towards

my smile's bloom?

Great Expectations

In my skin I feel safe,

so why want another's

if it makes me lose faith

in the person it covers?

Forever alone;

that's the way it's got to be,

only because I can't condone

anyone but me.

Wie man in den Wald hineinruft, so schallt es heraus.

People get so obsessively engrossed

in their search for that one elusive love,

that they don’t realise love is in most

of everything the world is comprised of.

Every helpful action emits more beauty

than we may find behind someone’s clothes

and to love the world back is our duty

so that humanity’s happiness grows.

People should hold on to their thorny past

and not let the sharpest points cause them pain

because in the centre, the rose will last

and it should be that life which should remain.

I will continue to plant new seeds

and hope they grow through my care and good deeds.

Promises

I promise to push aside

promises of the past

which put me down.

I promise to place pride

in the mistakes that have passed

and to poke fun at my frown.

I promise to ignore

pessimistic prevarication

directed towards gullible me.

I promise to do more

to distribute elation

towards anyone I see.

Mollusk

I cannot scrape away

those mourning memories

which cling firmly to my brain.

They make my black and white grey

so if the dark would go

my light could not remain.

#Reality

I am just a slave

to my mind's own perception

on what may be true.

Morning Escape

Soft sighs simmering in the sky

as the morning bird stretches his wings,

rubbing his eyes until they are dry

he must compose before he sings.

He cannot recall who taught him to fly

but is eternally grateful for the calm it brings

and now it is time for him to say goodbye

to his nest and life's liable things.