On the Brimstone.

the brimstone ballet.

the timid proud one.

Opposites magnetised to build tension.

Camden town council flats

next to Mornington crescent mansions.

Another London contradiction.

Two drinks in. Ten minutes from temptation.

Find a religion. Some sort of tradition.

Learn to stop the repetition. 

Nothing if not London.

Did she fall out of love with me or was it the city I lived in.

Every time we get together a part of me goes missing.

It used to be my world.

Now it's a monument to a world she's not in.

Tomorrow and a year ago.

From so far to go to the end of the road.

All on the same road.

Better off without that load.

Some cards I can't show.

Some looks I can't put into words.

Some rules aren't within laws. 

That's why he's not my mate anymore

dance another day in the brimstone ballet

The timid proud one.

Camden town council flats

Mornington crescent mansions

More London contradictions

Personalised number plates on Honda Civics.

Suped up mopeds forever revving up.

A city divided into islands.

Stripped shirt bankers on the backs Rickshaw drivers.

Soho nights with a Sober mind.

Playing Watch the throne on the back of a bus from a mobile phone.

I was Stuck in a Cricklewood crew.

The world seemed so small. Even from a kite hill view.

I knew I could do anything if I could just know what to do

At fourteen I heard, you can have the whole world, or be satisfied with the boulevard.

at school we'd shout "mine" when we'd see nice cars

but all of us were quiet when the big Bentley drove past.

I've spent years trying to break that silence

Wanting an even better life than what had been provided.

I was always telling myself, it was going to get better

you know who you is? You the greatest -something- ever.

I mean, always knew school didn't matter.

Grown with a resentment towards those who belittle others.

You know, Not the sharpest tool in the box.

Because I'm not a tool. 

I'm boxed in. I'm not in the box.

Not the brightest spark.

I don't need to be bright for you to get sparked.

Cussed. Cursed.

They can call you what they want.

Just know you never stopped.

Crawl when you can't walk

Scream when you can't talk

Dream when you can't sleep

Simple rhymes for complex times

write lines to make the complex simplified

This simple mind could be a gift of mine.

A history of silence.

Around eight
Every day that summer I cried
hoping by the time dad came
the tears would've dried.
But there's always be stains.
Faint lines for him to see
how his little boy had broken that day.

Sensitive, and in love with violence
consumer of as many batman comics
and X-men cartoons
He-man and Skeletor.
Lion-O and Mum-Ra
Spider-man and Venom
Batman and Joker
Power Rangers and Rita
Streetsharks, beetleborgs
biker mice from mars
and the teenage mutant
hero turtles
each one sung the same song
and through the throwing of a punch
I saw the difference between right and wrong.

Galazy.

I drink because it's fun
and I drink till I'm drunk
till my thoughts turn to thunks
and my head is empty
with exception of my wants.
I don't want much
but I want her
and I want her so much
it kind of hurts
when I think about it
my mind gets heavy with thoughts
so I drink to lighten my load
and then i drink some more.

She loves the character Alabama
Written by that director Quentin Tarantana.

If music dictates fashion
I'd imagine she'd have given
every genre a listen
black and white pictures
from her last trip to Berlin
make her the Galaxy
chocolate bar of women.
Something I thought I couldn't afford
even when I had twice the worth
if not more.
Not advertised for the likes of me
wanting to leave gigs early
to play sonic 2 on his Nintendo Wii.
tears on a page- streets of rage without skates
your face so close to my face.

Some things I thought I could never see
once a week I'd treat myself to KFC
like a siren it's smell would sing to me
as soon as I stepped out of Farringdon station
sitting in the restaurant, wrapping chicken skin
round the chip would be the closest feeling
I had to calm before you came along
I try to talk but can barely hear you over the song
I need a simple thing to focus on.
Your legs- in those leggings
Your hair- in that hairband
Your words- in that mouth
I try not to think out loud
my thoughts aren't that loud now
and I don't feel a need to space out
I could even settle down
ease from this world
in the middle of the night
without making a sound
in an out of london house
two children and a second hand
BMW in the garage
"That's nice- what's the mileage?"
I don't know what that question means
and I dread it being asked.

Fuck. sorry.

Quiet and loud
timid and proud
i've tried to be everything I've been able to see
in the hope it would round me out.
find a key to escape the empty house
I share with my conscience who treats me like a spouse
from the window we'd watch the word tear itself apart
now all I do is come home late and all she wants to do is fight
it's so tense you could cut the tension with a knife
sorry for saying the word knife
I know a word like knife isn't right
but something about living in this city
makes listening to Joni mitchell not fit right.
Violence isn't an art. It's a language.

All the stars are held in light bulbs
i can see stories in constellations

I don't believe in god as much as I do religion.
I haven't seen mystical signs as much as guidelines
followed by nice guys living life right.
It'd be a life I'd like but I suffer from a lack of faith
to stick with anything that wont meet me halfway-
- right at the borderline.

ensemble so far.

from the humble beginnings of a Pelicans wings

through jungles human beings have never seen

moving past trees and brushing on leaves

it picks up speed across rivers into seas 

creates hurricanes that destroy distant cities

crashing and breaking into a million pieces

legs turn into tornadoes

arms to storms

the voice seeks peace

on these deserted city streets

it's dying scream of the winds base

pushes the hair away from her face.

She's still got her knees up and arms pumped

He drags himself across the land google maps forgot

Just keep running.

This is a street for cars with tinted windows,

and people who knew where they where five minutes ago

where with the exception of your breath and heartbeat

all sights and sounds come from connecting streets

(Honks of

the roar of

these are the streets in-between streets

the place that takes everyone to a deja vu

red lights of stops signs taunt as a finish line

both going towards some type of bright light

Just keep moving.

his scuffed fists grab weathered bricks

Just keep breathing.

forehead rests against the wall

phlegm dangles from his chin

chest bounces as if on hydraulics

he sees polka dots emerge on the pavement

 and no matter the condition, every single person 

in a six mile radius has the same thought as him

"is it, raining?"

it hard knocks  the skin's soft spotslike a comic book landlord wanting rent

find a footing in dented cement and a broken leg

he takes a step forward but the knee pops

these are the rain drops we take as a sign from god

where you regret the clothes you bought from sweat shops

the spit slips into a puddle of green

Reunited. Double lp, world excited.

Two years. Hand on the rail

each step equates to a month I lose

and by the time I'm at the door

I'm back to when I spelt "her" as "you".

the bell rings.

There's a blur through the window

walking towards the door,

the silence between it being opened

is longer than the two years spent apart.

The latch turns along with my stomach.

my eyes take in every possible exit,

the door opens and all I am is 

unsure.

And I look at her. 

And I still don't know. She looks a little different.

more comfortable and less delicate.

she's got a long black skirt and a blue velvet top.

We hug and I move into one train of thought

Her hugs used to come often

more often with less clothes on,

and distance.

Our arms slowly leave each others side

satisfied, like an after-festival bath.

we borderline sigh, lock eyes

and laugh.

Two years.

Where are you taking me
Where are you leading me to
What do I want. I don't think
it's something new.

She's the only one in and all the lights are on.

(Wasteful) I felt embarrassed for remembering

last month I had a one night stand with a woman

in a flat that had the exact same layout as this.

I don't tell her because it's not relevant

and honestly I don't want her to hear it.

I still see myself with her as a nineteen year old

who felt guilty when I felt her boobs in a hug.

She says she's bought too much.
but it's only when the fourth can's drunk

We feel warmed up enough

to talk of what was,

who's done what and mainly,

Laugh. At each other,

at those around us and mainly,

our past.

I ask about her acting,

it's stagnant.

She asks about stand-up,

I red stripe click, swig.

Her floor is wooden and shiny and

I'm tired.
Everything's naps in the afternoon, early mornings and late nights with walks home evaluating how gigs went with lamp posts. The parts I hate the most are the other comedians jokes. Nearly every single one is a type of a person doing an impression of someone better than them. Five out of six a shit Bill Hicks. On a bill of twenty one from seven till eleven- I rarely find someone I can connect with. Watching- It seems- It's- Misogyny. Racism is a no go but every night I'm hearing at least ten rape jokes. Per set. Until you spend a night watching twenty comedians you'll never know how long five minutes is. It sounds bad but what I think offends me more than the subject matter is how shoddily these jokes are put together. They bypass craft for the an easy laugh. Say they were bullied in school I want to say I bet through your eyes. the whole world has bullied you. Do you know what I mean I'm sorry I know you know what I mean. You get me.

I wait all night  to hear "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the stage... See-An... Mahooney!" I pick up the mic stand wrong and get tangled in the chord having every eye watch my first line fluffed- and I'm, forced into this moment, but I can't force a moment or deliver blows. They have to laugh not from queues but because they want to and to not know why. It's a challenge but it's really fun. You know when I started I used to have my hands covered in lines, bullet points, but then that would me step out of where I am. I need to be, present. With them. which means talking till I find what room I've left my jokes in. it rarely does but when when it goes right they see all the little animals and faces I've been seeing for years. I get happy that I'm not crazy, or that I am and have found a way for it to work for me. It's fun. It's really alright.

She looks for my eyes
and finds me using the smile
that only she ever got to see.
I knew I was in love when I saw her.
And this time, I knew I was in love again.

She says something about missing me

and in that moment

all this heartbreak feels so teenage.

Three minutes of silence

as shutterbug by big obi plays.

a poetic moment ruined

by an ipod left on shuffle.

Sonic unleashed.

Every full moon
my penis becomes a werewolf
that howls for you
He runs down the road
like an angry segway
eyeing out other dickheads to fight

what you lookin' at?
what you lookin' at?
what you lookin' at?
Dickhead.

He howls for you
and eats donner kebabs
and prank calls mini cabs
barks at short skirts
gets kicked out of strip clubs
and when listening to rap music
says the N-word.
For realz.

He roams all of central london
and in the streets throws tantrums,
swims in trafalgar square fountains,
dunks people heads in after
luring people into thinking he's a dolphin

at comedy clubs he heckles comedians,
who say "we've got a right dick in the audience"
and he says "yeah. I am" and he comedian says
"Oh. Wow. Yeah. You really are"
and he then forgets all of his jokes.

he pushes over statue men in covent garden,
and when asked why he says it's because they ignored him
and bumps and grinds at student club nights
and after he's used up all of his freedom
he still hasn't got anyones attention.

Now it's oxford street, four in the morning.

what are you looking at?
you lookin at me mate
walk on, walk on.
dickhead.

Grrrrrrrrrrr.

he can't sleep yet
he howls
and barks
and huffs
and puffs
and screams
and he feels his skin
catching fire
but no doors open
no houses come down.
i find him the next morning
silent and strong.

Love don't live here anymore.

Foot prints on a cloud

it's the small things i see

that remind me

you're not around.

Hearing texts

I hold my breath

I bite my tongue

to stop myself

How many stand ups
have really stood up?
I can't gig anymore
it puts my back up.
looking at picture of deadpool
and when it rings I can't pick up.

you need help?

I'll have your back

if you take my hand
but if not I don't mind
I mean I do mind
I just know it doesn't sound nice,
to put insurance on a relationship
but the last time I followed my heart
I got lost with too much left
and not enough right.

I don't know what it'll take for you to

mellow my mind.

now theres not enough time
for me to love another and myself
and if theres one thing I've learnt
from the lovers that have left me burnt
is that you should always come first

ring ring, me.
I don't want to talk.
but could you talk to me?

It's not me. It's not you.

I mean it's not me.
It's you.

The first love.

there from the start

and I don't expect you to call

but like clockwork you do.

Don't ask me if I'm well

when we both know

you're the reason I'm not.

I've been through a few changes
that've involved blowing second chances.

a part of me knows we're meant to be

but I don't know in what capacity

no one should take up every memory
so quickly.

I don't miss her.

(I don't miss her)

Only, crave.

I feel like we get calm

in the eyes of our storms

I only escape the palpitations

when I'm with the person

I'm trying to escape from.

We're a rose royce song.

about love going wrong.
but even in poems
we're not as poetic.

I keep on wanting to finish
but we're never near done
and I've left everything that
reminds me of home
so I can't blame where I'm from.

You can't understand unless
you're trying to be a grown up
in the place you grew up in
and know this new you is different
to the man that was promised.
And each pavement slab you see
is a reminder on how you haven't.

I wanted to be a super hero
all I've got now is a bullshit ego
and texts in my drafts I can't let go
and drafts on my twitter
and buttons that hover over numbers
and phone calls I can't answer.
and parties I don't go to
because the only fuck ups I can handle
are the ones that are on my terms.

DD

All the pictures are of him being happy with his girlfriend and working in the merchandise shop of his football club
and i think to myself
WHAT A WONDERFUL WORRRRRRRRRRRRRRLD

The email I never sent.

dammit FIDHCK I didn't want that in writing. Or over email. Oh well.

I didn't even ask. I did make a decision though. To ask you out. I made it yesterday. On the way home after MXPS IRY84 IBG0 IA, when you went with U04- I wondered if you had slept with him and it hurt because you have no obligation to me and are free to do what you want, sleep with who you want. I then realised i am a little attached and I care for you more than i thought i did.

so that's why I made that decision yesterday. I'm annoyed because I wanted to present a case that wouldn't feel like i was addressing a problem. I feel like we really get on. Texting, and emails and long talks. the only thing that would changes is that there'd be more of it. And exclusivity. That's how you'd look at it mathematically. I've felt that you've dealt with a lot of people that have been all talk so I've been trying to show you I care through actions but sometimes talking is an action. Sometimes saying something can be the biggest, hardest thing in the world to do, if you mean it. I don't know whether to stop writing now or not. I don't want to pour what i feel, how i feel, into an email. I really don't but the last two times i saw you i pussied out of saying what i feel. So maybe I'm not ready either. I just want to be there. and to hold your hand and stuff. but I can't so just know I'll be here. heeyyyy.

Also, please don't palm any of this off on me just moving on and wanting to be with someone and you're the first. It's not that. It's you. I really like you. I feel like i can talk to you about anything and every time you're in an audience i give it my all and it comes natural. You give the best Seanface. It makes me melt.

That's why i wanted to see you today. I don't want to look at you and feel like I can't talk to you. We never talked about us until at our most drunk. there is no us though. but that's good.

It'll be easier for us to be friends if we were as friendly to each other as we are to IE6TBFO and UEBH (I really don't think i send IE6TBFO or UEBH around three emails a day)- don't you think that would be easier? I think it would.

25.11.08 15:39

oh wow dude.

your dad...he sounds like a very cool cat. i think he would have got on well with my uncle. two very down dudes with lots of talent but naughty habits. so that is where the coolness comes from dude! its like inheriting a certain colour hair or something. the cool vibes you know, the smart way with words. you must be really proud to have a pops like that. how groovy. 

i bet he digs the stories you write. right? ah how cool.

thanks for sharing it with me thunderbolt. (tips hat and grins) 

x

Sometimes I think sitting on trains.

and then when i came back everything was just worse, well i sort of forgot to eat you know? and then every day a little more bone would come and then it wasnt me anymore it was the skin all taut and stretched over lots and lots of bone. and i sort of felt like i was fading away somewhere else and i'd better get rid of the hair too in case that was too heavy now...argh. i guess it was bad. but i didnt know how bad. so when i got here, you know, and the parents saw me. well they got all upset and now things are better and the bones are going away, slowly. i'm still very thin. but at least im eating now. but the hair is gone and i miss it. because its bare bare bareness nothing to put in front and say "look at me i've got lovely long blonde hair!" now its just me. but you say i look like desire and that is better than anything because he/she rocks hard hard hard and that is awesome. so i am happy. thanks man. *hug*

lumberjack jackets. we should probably get some so we can match. it might be a good look.

sometimes i think sitting on trains x

09.11.08 00:46

there are tears streaming down my face.

thank you, you have no idea how many times thank you. i needed that more than oh god i dunno i needed that. i want to say so many things, i mean gosh man...

if you want something to work, you've got to put your love into it right? 

i'm trying. 

i've been reading your notes on facebook. you're writing, what you write-what you just wrote to me. argh i cant see my eyes are too full of tears. sean i wish i could hug you right now, i cant say anything more, i've got so much more to say, will say. i think as soon as you lost your comics i knew we were two people cut from the same dog eared cloth. and i'm sorry i was too much of a lame person to acknowledge it. 

it's dark now and the street lamps are on in washington. i can see the monuments from outside this window. i feel so far from where i want to be, but hearing from you-all the letters/words/ you just gave to me, i feel almost like myself again. sean, dude, i wish i could express how much happier you have just made me feel. argh i feel like my head is full of cotton. 

see i know you know, because you know right? just to know you know,,, ah man that's enough to make me smile. 

ok let's make a deal, if i had a knife or some sort of cool thing-you know we'd make it a blood brother deal....

i promise. i promise-i will be here for you. whenever, whatever, because i get it, and you get it. 

if that aint love then tell me what is. 

Karmel.

The cars move too fast around me

as the bus came I said goodbye to Dean

ending our debate on whether a new year really makes a difference

I think it's a good enough excuse to make one

this rain falls hard, but I still don't put my hood on.

I reflect on the best year of my life

and though i try to block it out

I know there's one regret I can't leave behind.

hey.

I never should've let go of my winter coat

the rain almost pierces through my skin

an unlucky optimist sees it as a baptism

the excuse to let go of the same old

to choose to travel down a new route

before my way gets labelled as infamy

none of these places get me to where I want to be

because none of those places put you next to me

to feel the way I used to

this new life is too close to what I've been used to

I hate that this current lifestyle is now the usual

Get up don't make love don't be touched

go out late don't know how to cry for help

get drunk, act like the texts sent themselves

I've felt like that with you, I could've done better

my apologies come in texts asking for meet ups

that between us being so busy never seem to come.

This piece has taken a few years to write.

I think we'll be friends one day.

A break up.

Ann has her eyes closed dancing to "It's got to be real" by Cheryl Lynn in an overtly sexualised manner with the brides father. He touches her bum . He's eighty six.
Her eyes open and pan to the corner of the Marquee where all napkin origami swans have been crumpled. No one's sat there. Sophie pulls her arms to carry on dancing.

She twirls to find Jeremy, not moving, with his coat on and hers in his arm.
They both stand still. He looks at her. Her face is lowered at the coat. They're both silent.

Grabs the coat, storms through the dance floor, straight to

Sitting in the cab looking at the door.
Tapping at the window.
Tapping at the window.
Tapping at the window.
The door opens. He strolls to the car, apologises to the cab driver.

They look out their windows.

About half an hour in It's got to be real by Cheryl Lynn plays on the radio and she starts crying.

His hands wrestle with each other.

London part one.

The train stops like slides with socks
Fifty percent of Londoners don’t know how to stop
the other half don’t know how to start
I move with all I’ve got but don’t move with enough
I don’t read enough books
I don’t breathe enough
I’m too hard on myself
and lacklustre dream chasers
It’s London.
All we have to do is
make it happen.
for two years I haven’t had a
good enough reason
to be leaving
constantly harassing me
while making it clear that
she doesn’t need me
We’ve concluded from recent reports that
seven out of ten londoners wear ipods
to ignore whatever street workers sell us
as soon as she walked in
all the noise of my head was deafened.

at Nineteen.
I met an American who was in love with
the city i lived in,
and proceeded to show me
a side of the city
I never knew existed
my world had expanded
beyond cricklewood
and west hampstead
did you know
one in three of all east london men
have handlebar moustaches?
and half of them talk out their arses.
His name was Johna,
He talked often 
about the house boat he lived in
trips to india, said words like "eloquent"
played clash songs on the ukelele
had a perfectly trimmed stubble
and chatted up girls while calling them babe
I put my head down
as if he was talking that shit in a year room
and if i looked like I’m his friend
a portion of chips, beans and cheese
would also be thrown at my head
but no school dinners came
not even beats
he talked wank
and got off free-
in some ways
you could say
he inspired me.

Second draft. The vent.

Quarter to twelve and it's tea number four.
Maybe I should just vent my thoughts.
See if where I am is a place others have been before.
Not sure if I can last as long as my mates
I don't read much nor am I one for wordplay
how long can I really put a broken heart on display
I was nineteen when she said I'd be great one day.
One day you'll really be something special.
Back then I didn't know what to say,
Far as I was concerned, I was already great
But the American didn't need rumours to go her own way
Now I'm with those who chain smoke listening to the chain.
Given up most reaches for fame because it's embarrassing watching it chased
No, please do not ask me to retweet every product you make
nothing sadder than a former star refusing the request to fade away.
With that said, ladies and gentlemen, singer songwriter for queen, Brian May!
She said I'd be great one day. That's all I need. One day.
A day when I can look at my face from outside of myself
Clean my flat, answer my emails, figure little things out
remove each thought from my head and place them back
like tetris bricks and throw away the ones that don't fit.
instead I'm tangled with the parts of me I can't lose
each one taken a loss I've tried to remove myself from.
But if I can get that one day all those regrets will be gone.
Find a new beginning in a kiss like that night i was reborn.
Maybe that one day came and it's time to move on.
I've got to keep on talking, my head is too crowded
and I can't keep my thoughts in.
Englishmen don't suffer from depression
before suffering from repression
Too much pride to put your hand up in lesson
where I come from you can't afford to be wrong
Chairs sooner flung before you admit trouble with the sum
When it's all you've got lets see how valuable pride is to you
some jobs you just can't work
as you're still waiting to be given what you feel is deserved
weird position to be in wen you've got so much to prove
but can't afford to lose and it's like life's closed off all routes
so you stay in your room and play video games all day
wondering what the fuck it is you can do- Zombie blues
just slip away. Just let is slip away. One day you'll escape.
All we've got is mates that hate others success
and you laugh with them but in your head you know
it'd be so much better if they were all dead
because you're tired of having to pretend you're happy with them
after all these years of doing nothing all you want to do is start again.

First draft.

"Who'd really want to hear the backstreets of my mind?"

Third floor of the southbank.

We've asked questions about writing and what to say, 

I have a problem with pushing too much back. 

Putting too much behind when the words that inspire 

are the ones people stutter to say something that's been

building up and swirling around their head for months

and when they break through each one's a release of honesty that 

chills your bones. 

When everyone left we went to the pub.

Had a few drinks and you talked about your ex

how you've left her for the next and you're worried

because it's not confirmed and you don't know what's next

and you've been worried about losing peers respect.

Friends respect. My respect. I took a gulp.

Gulp. Said don't worry, you're doing what you think is right.

You're following your heart so there's no regrets.

And I started to feel words leap frog over what was planned

I closed them down. Shut them down. Shut up. proper obvs.

But words never really go, they'll come through

just directed at others, the people who'll forgive you

for saying reckless stuff but I haven't lashed out,

I've kept it in, pushed it back to the backstreets of my mind.

And who'll really want me to call you a cunt?

We've been here before

when a one night stands last three months

it becomes harder to come apart

and harder to accept every time you leave

is a potential break up.

after a girl and a gig I'll find a bus home to fall

asleep,

It's not a complaint, this is the live I've chosen

to live.

not like my hand wasn't forced but I'll take what

I can get.

A sunny street, oranje juice, polish donut

and real as it gets from the blueprint three.

I didn't get myself out of a place I hated,

instead did renovations.

The man who once held my body in his hands

trusts his life into mine.

One day I'll provide

but now I can't shoot low and aim aim high

Now everything is undone while intertwined

unravels and everything i love leaves me behind

well you know what that's fine. Fucking great.

Keep as straight as you think straight is.

She only wants what was,

and she must have wanted me so much

because she pushed me so hard

It's not her fault, 

she didn't know I still had my dreamcast

that I've got a lockjaw for loyalty.

didn't have to turn my friends into enemies.

I can't keep on losing them.

coming back to this blog.

Telling stories about Max and Jade

when I haven't seen either for months.

Once girl came into the midst of it all

I'd see her every week in east london

we'd talk about big krit and 2chainz

and we'd kiss all night at her place

she's the closest thing to calm I've ever felt.

I don't even know if I miss her.

crushing.

If I was her when I met me I'd handle that nineteen year old with care.
I'd keep in contact as much as possible, I'd try to take him to new places
Meet my friends, show him his talents. I wouldn't want to alienate him
when drinking and pretending to fit in while he watches me be different.
Different to how I was when we first met. I'd want him to remind me of who I was.
I'd want him to inspire me as much I hopefully do him. And when I read beautiful words.
Words about me. Seeing me in a light I don't believe I deserve to be in.
I'll tell him how beautiful each one is while walking that tightrope thin line
between telling him how special he is while not leading him on.
I'd spend more alone time with him, trusting that, although he loves me,
He respects the fact that I don't feel the same way- that I'm too self obsessed
and focused on success to give anyone any spare space in my head.
I wouldn't kiss him, I'd probably come close by accident
but wouldn't give into my weakness. It'd be too much for him.
We'd talk about music, I'd give him the names of bands that'll change his life like they did mine.
He could do whatever he wanted with my name, put it on social networking sites
give me a new one. I'd smile at thunderbolt. I'd tell him I loved him and
regret it because I didn't mean it like that I I
I wouldn't leave him alone so suddenly. I wouldn't cut him off
in such a way that'd have him scarred for the rest of my life. His life.
and have pictures of my new dude on facebook. I
wouldn't ignore him for the sake of another man's insecurity.

I'd want to love him the way he loves me. I'd really want to.
But I wouldn't be able to. I'm twenty something and too far gone.
Pretending to be a grown up and impressing peers that don't have half my heart
and I'd make sure you know that no one has have half your talent.
You're really fucking special. You need to know that I love you in a way
that hurts me too because I know the love I have for you isn't the one you want
and anything other than what you want is seen as a rejection but it's not.
I'd like to see you and be open again. For you to see what's within
I'm too broken right now for kisses for anyone I want to know forever though.
I want to know you for forever though.

If i was her I'd still want to know him. I'd want to keep in check.
See if he's ready to be friends yet.

If I was in this position, I'd hope he'd understand.

I miss my friend.

Give a girl your heart

but don't get angry at her when she breaks it.

It's like a comedian taking compliments for being brave

and then blames the audience when he gets booed offstage

a boxer doesn't complain when he gets hit

don't enter the game if you don't know how to play it

I saw you and instantly wanted to know more

friends told me to stay away

said I didn't know the score

all I saw was the figure eights

in everything you wore,

All you ever talked of was

the men that came before

you'd sleep with a man

and it'd tear me apart

so I'd sleep with two women

and tell you. You'd laugh.

You can't get a grip

here's my heart.

Don't feel like a git

because you let it slip

we can't choose who we fall in love with

That's a pain I've felt before

a pain I can deal with

It's what you did afterwards

that makes me feel different

that's a pain that's new

has me avoiding places we went to

avoiding friends we call mutual

I still don't want to make it clear

that I don't hate you
If only for the reason that
I don't want to give anything to you.

I only hate this situation

and how you've defined yourself too soon.

I lost two best friends to that one night stand

Him a best man

you a not so much next girl

but watch dvd box sets

talk about my ex girl

go to bed and how our toes curl

sorry for rhyming girl with girl

I know you wouldn't improve

I hope you never have to write

a love poem for a better writer

than you.

I'm getting off track.

I heard tangents are good.

It's my fault for not manning up

For not telling you I was in love

you'd sleep around and I'd just watch

I slept with twenty women last summer

just to get over your touch

Tried racking up points to build up confidence

then you went and slept with my confidant

truth is, it was never about the score, but the goal.

It's football with playground rules

no free-kicks or throw-ins

it gets kicked out

opportunity is for the one who can run

as long as you're single,

you can have whatever you want.

I knew that

didn't think it would hurt

or hurt this much

now at parties we're

right next to each other

with a grand canyon

filled with apologies and confessions

we don't know how to say that

separates us.

And the rubies know I'm always happy to go on first

but this time, I can't be the one to jump

and I don't want her to either

because she misses me as a friend

and I miss the chance of having what could have been

what could have been is always beautiful

people still thought we were just each others jump off

that's cool. They can think what they want

I just wish we never believed them

Woke up five ours ago

went for a run, checked the time

nine am. I miss my friend.

And it's a shame

that this has to be how it ends

knowing that we've regressed

Who goes from secrets to small talk.

It stresses me out

I've kept a lid on myself for so long

I don't even know what I'm trying to

stop coming from my mouth

Were never going to talk again

and if we ever do

it'll only be through this pen

nothing to say to you

other than it's 12 o'clock

and I miss my friend.