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Anger

It coarses through my veins
My blood boils.

My fingers itch for something
to pour out my frustration.
To empty out my worries
My fears.

Failure.
Disappointment.
Rejection.
Loneliness.

I don't want to think of these.
I don't want to - need to - think of these.

My hands long to cry on a piano;
To melodicaly thrash the ivories
Until I'm content.

Because I'm not.

I want to hold someone close
and punch someone in the face.

I want to be eternally silent
and shout until I'm satisfied.

But what I want isn't what I need.
And what I need?
Not what I get.

Perhaps I should stop expecting so much of people; of life.



Perhaps I should just stop expecting anything.

Deliberations

Shoved into the dark,
Blind faith my sole possession.
Simply awaiting
A single silverlining.

Answers

I'm out of the know;
In a new situation.

Effortlessly, they
flow; many conversations.

---

Not every question can be answered; some answers will always be unknown. Why you stopped talking to that person you held so highly. Why God took away someone you treasured from the world. Why someone thinks the way they think; why they do what they do.

These questions keep my overanalytical brain, well, overanalytical...and send me straight towards the kettle.

Dreams Of November

It was about a man; tall, pale skinned, coiffed brown hair, confined from its typical unruly state. A sleek black suit. Stubble dotted across his face; his jaw and hollow cheekbones.

He protected me. Sat by me in a black Mercedes.

I walked past the cemetry in Rochester, NYC, looking over the lonely tombstones. It was a cold night, my hands tucked inside my pockets. I breathed out clouds of steam that drifted past the glaring street lights, into the obsidian sky. I blinked, and the vapour had dissipated into the night.

Suddenly I was in his car. He was rushing me somewhere.

A restaurant. A flight of stairs; curved, going down. He grabbed my hand in his, pulling me with him.
Wrenched a white door on the right open, pushing us inside.

Lights off.

My hands pressed against his chest, which rose and fell in syncope with mine. No other sounds than our breathing, forced to be hushed. And then a sound. Outside, rapid footsteps. Someone sought but they would not find.

Onyx eyes looked down to meet my gaze. They held mine for a long period of time; in them I saw many of the emotions I held in my own. When his eyes darkened, I gently bit my lip.

He whispered my name.

His gaze wavering
between my eyes
and my
plum
lips.

He looked me in the eyes, his emotions conflicted.

His resolve shattered. Suddenly his lips pressed against mine, before stopping; moving away. Still partially paralysed in shock, my eyes only just opened to see him beginning to step back; insecure eyes seeking mine as an apology began to spill from his lips.

Before he spoke, tip toeing, I gently reciprocated. His hands fell to my waist, pulling me closer, his head tilted down towards me. And as we kissed, my hands raked through his thick, soft hair; our lips briefly parting before delicately touching again. He placed a kiss on the corner of my mouth; I felt his smile. My arms wrapped around his neck as I pressed my lips to his again.

They say a picture can speak a thousand words.

The beauty of moments like these is that words are no longer necessary.

Promise

Who am I darling, to you?

Hide and Seek

My eyes look
On and on
For a sign; something to spin
The cogs in my mind.

They seek; day in, day out.
For him; half a person.

Just like me.

The person who'll let me be.
And won't run screaming.
(Just kidding).

His imperfection would be his greatest quality.

He'll look after me, but let me take care of him.
Hold me, to give me an excuse to hold him.
It'll be unconditional; never temporary.
No end nor beginning.

Not a typical guy. He'd see the world in his own perspective.
Not obsessed with attaining wealth, money, fame, women.
Caring, compassionate. Witty, intelligent.

Most importantly, he'd be loyal. So that I wouldn't fear coming home,
To an unexpected other.

He wouldn't complete me; he'd make me better than I am.

Question is: where is he?

Hopefully not confined to my mind.

Why

Don't know why
I'm so badly affected;
Infected.

Stumbling across your presence,
my consciousness chokes. Logic ceases.

Don't know why
I can't stop glancing at you. You've said not a word;
Only played your guitar. Sung of daydreams.

I can't focus. My thoughts permeated by your angry croon.
I can't think. Go away. My window was open, and now it is shut. Pad locked.

I waited, but you never came.

Don't know why
Nothing makes sense anymore. My head throbs.

Fuck it. I don't want to make sense of this anyway. Do the honourable thing; piss off.

Longing

It's such a disgusting feeling, longing. That yearning that pulls at your insides when you want something seemingly unattainable.

It makes me want it even more.

On Judgement.

I walk through life calm and collected, taking each day at its face value. I spend more time with my thoughts than I do with people; peacefully empty, my words bound in shackles behind my lips.

I smile and nod when appropriate, look away when I don't know what to do. Connections are hard to form when you're as awkward as I. Knowing others, and others knowing me leaves me vulnerable; exposed.

Judgement of character. It leaves me frowning. As if knowing one small piece of information, hearing one sentence or seeing one act entitles us to make conclusions about a character.

Wrong. It does not.

Regardless of how good or bad a person, deriving immediate conclusions and making false assumptions about individuals often brings nothing but conflict. You, a human, do not know their intentions, their past and their present, their dreams and fears, nor can you read their mind.

Judgement on an individual's bad actions is not justifiable either; that individual, like any other, has the potential to change. A person is not defined by a moment of their weakness.

If an individual does seem to be going astray, onto the wrong path, rather than criticising or mocking, you must guide them back to the correct path. Violence needn't be used. Compassion, respect and kindness are essential for the sustenance of goodness.