It’s like……That

21 Jul

Love is like…
…going home,
it’s that feeling
of belonging,
to someone…
…or somewhere
you can be yourself
without having to
ever be alone,
a place where
you are wanted
despite your darkest
secrets being known.



21 Jun

I’ve been told that
I write too much
about love,
there seems to be
those who’d prefer
more hardcore sex,
or maybe even poems
about the vast emptiness
of my own existence,
the deep, dark hole
of my depression,
which I fill with whiskey
and prescription medication,
what about the nameless whores
I fill up with my erections,
these women I degrade
to satiate my own frustrations,
how about the countless hours
I wile away in solitude,
a sulking suicidal mood,
contemplating my demise and
your utter lack of surprise when,
contrary to your wishes,
I continue to keep living
so I can write another love poem,
just because I know you
find it so fucking sickening.

Blissful Oblivion

20 Jun

Drugging myself
into total oblivion
just to live again,
just to feel anything
except the pain
you left in your wake,
day after day
waking up alone
with the memory
of your silence
and indifference,
knowing too well
that hurting myself
just to spite you
wouldn’t even make
a damn bit of difference,
you were emptied
of all your empathy
long before I met you,
you rationed out
all your compassion
to lesser fools
who used you up,
so a medicated oblivion
has become my only friend,
the only way I know
to ever feel the bliss
your love once rendered,
the only way I know
to ever feel alive again.

A Reason to Believe In

8 Jun

I gotta believe this life
has some higher meaning
besides scraping and kneeling
or just trying to get by,
I have a feeling there’s
a reason for all this madness,
a purpose to this puzzle
we all call existence,
a plausible explanation
why we seem wired to survive;
and it occurs to me with
quite a nagging persistence,
despite my reluctance and
your petulant resistance,
that loving each other in
the profoundly twisted way
only you and I could ever do,
is actually the only reason
two broken souls like us
will ever need to get us through.

Ever So Slowly

7 Jun

Sitting in a silent room
being consumed
by emptiness and solitude,
I can hear the sound
of my own heart breaking,
slowly, slowly, slowly,
the aching digs a pit
hollowing out my stomach,
love struck, love sick,
sickeningly afflicted
with this emotional addiction,
you’re in my head
and in my heart,
the other half of my soul
from which I can never
truly ever be apart.

The End Has No End

6 Jun

I am an amalgamated
conglomeration of
commercial advertising,
slogans and propaganda,
consumer nuances and
brand loyalty brainwashing,
producing and using the
products that keep us
moving into a future where
we become disposable,
corporate commodities
bought and sold in markets,
patented and created in
university laboratories and
eventually rendered useless,
outdated and without purpose.


5 Jun
Black of night,
shades opened,
bedroom lights
just drip-
window [][][] panes,
in London greys
about green eyes
on gloomy days,
leading lives
quite lackluster,
yet never lacking
the lust for a life
that shines
at long last,
and lasts longer,
than forever 
ever could.


3 Jun

Drown me, choke me,
Fuck me, scold me
but don’t fucking love me,
don’t even try and hold me,
unless it’s back or under,
your thumb,
because down is the only
direction I’ll ever let you go,
and with a pleasure
only I can know.


First Things First

21 Apr


The first kiss,
a blissful moment
filled with meaning,
seems to be what we
thought was needed,
to bring this thing
between us
into existence,
yet somehow we
completely missed it.
Now we are left with
no more lamenting
our distance,
no regrets, and
no more resistance
to the possibility that
this love was just
never meant to be.


21 Apr

You know me too well,
like how I dwell on the past
or how I always think that
nothing good ever lasts,
how all the “I love you’s”
I ever said out loud
were the truest words
that ever left my mouth.
You know my deepest,
darkest secrets that I keep,
and the reason for every single,
solitary tear that I weep.
You know me even better
than I truly know myself,
yet somehow you still keep
all the words I ever wrote
placed neatly on your shelf.


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