It doesn’t matter. What difference would it make. They never listen, so why would that change now ? F*ck it

Grab whatever you can It’s the season of thanks Face the truth Take who you can .

You feel the ignition under your vein, a snake worming it’s way into your bloodstream. It pangs with coolness as it hugs you in its blanket and your body trembles backwards, it's almost like you are on a plane looking down as everything society normally hangs over you, turns shapeless and unimportant, you surf the clouds as they lap into each other, un-bothered. The feeling never lasts, because when you wake up, you are never up there in the clouds. You feel ashamed as the needle hangs off you and the drool is dried on your face, and whatever backwood place you are seems even more diseased than when you got there. You walk outside and the world is faster than you remember. You can't catch up. Everyone is erratic and you are weird to them because you are you. You crave. Once more you crave escape.

The heart only grows fonder. I liked her. Enough to loosen the ropes and let her go. But like always, a week after and every breath she takes feels burdensome. A week of borrowed air owed to me. And the only way to pay me is to be smothered in all of her essence. To be acquainted with her again, with every blemish and every little imperfection: Like the wine spill of a birthmark on the dip of her back or the freckles spirited across her face. She belonged to me. And without her I will wilt away in life’s trivialities. Poisoned by the mediocrity of humanity. I need her now to tip the scale. And she will be mine again soon. As where the others. This time and never again

I envy the ones that find sanctuary in religion. I envy their crosses and their Quran. I envy the families that wear their Sunday’s best and the ones that feel the need to wash their feet before praying. I envy the way they speak in absolutes and how it feels like they are elevated above everyday woes. I envy the blissfulness of believing that the world has a true purpose. But what I envy the most is the conscious decision to have faith. I am an envious man

I fell in love with the idea of always. Forever seemed like something worth holding onto, until it dawned on me that ‘forever’ died with her and all I had now are forever memories that lingered over every meal and every walk to the park. I even placed my hands over my mouth the last time I allowed myself to chuckle at a dog goofing on the internet. Forever was only a concept before her, but now it haunts me. Sitting here at her favourite coffee shop with the bells ringing of Christmas and the green and the red and the blissful cheer swarming. I came to a realisation that one second with her was worth a forever haunting. I realised she was forever. And I was okay with that Always & forever ....

Red means stop But that never stopped you Leaking me, Poor old me, I Neva could get no sympathy. Blue means be loyal But that isn’t in your nature Loving me, Trusting me, I Neva could get no sympathy. Yellow means happy But that was temporary Breaking me, Leaving me, I Neva could get no sympathy. You built me to break me Loved me to hate me Promised loyalty to betray me Leaking me , Poor old me, Loving me , Trusting me , Breaking me , Leaving me , All this, and I still wait for you.

I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t say it right now, I knew this moment would be a defining moment in my life. If only I could block out who I truly am for what is expected of me. I swivelled the barstool, stopping only when I saw her. She walked the lengths of the bar, to the table and chair at the end of the restaurant,in front of a big glass window. The rain is pouring, and I can hear the crackle of thunder every now and then. The restaurant is slightly packed for the evening — with mostly people waiting for the rain to subside. She pulls out her laptop from her book bag and then brings her hand up to brush her hair behind her ear. She has dark brown hair that dropped down her slender shoulder, her face is oval shaped and her red lips are plum and unescapable. I lick my lips unassumingly wondering how those lips taste. I look up at her and our eyes meet. Her sultry blue eyes look down, embarrassment warming her cheeks. And I smile behind hooded eyes. I swivel back around on the bar stool and ask the bartender to give me another drink. He waddled across to the spritzers in his uncomfortably tight shirt. His hair is strewn with blonde colours over his black hair and the way he talks is just not right. He passes me the drink “ is that all hun” he says And every part of me wanted to strangle him. Dad always raised me to be a man. “Don’t call me that Fag” I respond I see shock sweep across his dark eyes as his once jovial expression becomes deadpanned. “Sorry Adam— I just thought since we....” he responds And before he can finish I cut him off “Well you thought wrong” I grab my drink and walk over to the girl in front of the window. I grab the chair opposite.” Can I sit here?” I ask “Sure” her lips curl into a small smile and I guess she looked cute. Like a woman her age would normally look. A bit pale though for LA weather. Dad would approve . “So what are you doing in this part of town” I pause “ I’ve never seen you before”. “ Yeah I’m not from here” she pulls out her land-yard around her neck showing me who she is “ just here to get permits for a construction” she says **** She laughs and snorts and it is cute. Her legs have found their way across the bottom of the table and is now touching mine every now and then. “So you coming?” she asks me “ ohh feisty I like it” I say She grabs her stuff and heads for the unisex toilet. And like we planned I count 10 then follow Brain eyes meet mine from behind the bar, hurt in his eyes...

There’s a difference in what you allow to leave your mouth and what you actually think. It’s similar to the spaces between stars. Perception is all dependent on distance. And at close range to my mother when she asks “how are you doing?” The outside world hear just that. But what she really means is ‘You better not fuck up my plan for your future!’ Her list of things : A rich husband, three children and a job in her law

The noise dims down, the alcohol swishes in your belly as you try to balance your scrambled vision. You use the railings to steady yourself . The music is gone now. Your thoughts return mixing with the drowsy effects of the alcohol. You drop to your knees on the wooden floor of the living room. You close your eyes with so much force that your whole face wrinkles. You bring your hands to your ears, trying to dispel the thoughts returning but it’s not auditory so it does nothing. The voices get louder, you feel the cold from the open window on your neck. You take inspired breaths to stop.. to still time. To take the hurt away. You feel your chest tighten , your eyes water, you feel trapped, you take your hand away from your head and wrap then around yourself. All it does is reminds you are alone , You drop your hands to the cold hardwood floor. You take my shirt off and lay flat on the floor. Taking in the cold as you count backwards the way you remember me doing before .... 10 9 8 7 6 4 3 ..... 2 ..