Mind your own. Look and look after. I am a socialite- for better or for worse. Standing around. Anxiously plugging the silence. Lugging, tugging, flight home, shrugging live like government. 

Meaning other thins lost in theme. The me. The I. 

Define: Altruism Socialite

“When people ask you a question what do you say” generally. Scripts, acknowledgement, special, ordinary, change. Formula and magics control over people that are quiet. Not my intention. Not mine! I need to rest, to layup lay down, sleep, plan study and organise. 

“Administrivia” – high fail rate.

Numbs the mind.

Find passion – motivate self.

Fixate and learn concepts.

No detail. Next week we’ll get into theoretical stuff.

The function of stupid.

Doctrine of precedent.

Nod nod nod.
Not 

How are you not, today.

I said not! 

Song: Need it . Band: half moon run. 19th of July 17:02

Saying and true meaning link arms. While for the second languages it’s a departure of accuracy, real-mess-ness, was, is, wrong, loss, suppression, desire to be in you. Like private property. The only true occupation is sex. Auctioned off self. Surrender yourself. Lust, carnal and warm. Navels rub. A bounce and cold heels touch the sides of mine. My legs flex as we squirm and I sit up. Impressed, grinning unnaturally. Smiling for the drug of it all. It’s all on the table. Feet cold but not for saying, warming hearts and a passion. Kiss me – need.

Kiss me – want. 2. Side. Standing, infectious smi

Time scrapes at me. The weekends choices bubble under my skin and fold like elastic left

Out in the rain.

My fear of playing musical instruments- the sacrifice and sadness of blowing. 

The silence and fear and convention of caring. More than just the wind. 

Sharing and swallowing.

You are a guy, and I am a girl. 

The honesty of it all. Showered and shaved. To lip born of pimpled picked pain. groups yearning is stifled. 

Rocks through maidens Windows showers shards of broken glass. Crushed between pestle and

Mortar heart. Running running, blubbering boulders could coil. Colliding at my chin. Falling the my chest. Cold shivers and pins cut from my eyes and jam in my nose. My empty head and heavy heart race with the loss of human reasonableness. Farted fluster. Flushing gushing graces of my own immoral suit. Armoured sentimentalities. Flaking down. Shameless. Silent. Worried and unlearning. The best version of myself, and I’m still not right. 

Alight. White paper. Without being weighted down, fearful. Nonsense.

I just want you to be with. 

I haven’t got time for your fear, worry or shame. They are immaterialism – devoid and lacking. My confidence is born of practice. Time elopes me. Slithering and slanting. This hell of earthquakes makes hills of dimples and children of the banal. 

Riots strike at the cement foundations and I fall. Skull crushingx

Watched Chocolat with J. Race. Sexual preference. Money. Acting.

Saying: tinkers cuss

Resting on your laurels

Sled, slid.

Put your best foot forward in the dark.

– a light in the darkness.

– two left feet. Right. I wrote it. But I left one left at home.

– you ain’t seen bad boys two?

we never have enough time.
To talk, to wait, to watch, to listen, to think or write.
I hope you are well my love;
So rich.
So pretty.

Race you to a GPA of 7.

You won’t be superstitious if you understand how the world works. 

You can’t smell porn. Read, white & BLACK.

I had a dream about mum that I knew was false so everything turned weird. I also talked to dad about going to work early and planning a day. 1 title, two boxes, 1 rectangle, one tea break coupled with classical music. One lunch break.

Instead of worrying about people you should get to know them.
Don’t worry about breasts.

Fear not arse.

Just ask me.

It’s a matter of hap, of luck.

The gap in my teeth, the

‘Wear and where’ show my strife. 

My stride, difference. 

“The I” to identify.

Racism is extreme

Difference towards a negative.

Worn down, corrosive.

My heel is stripped.

Unhealable. Unsolved. Torments.

Worries and overthinking.

I.. I! Don’t have to be anywhere now. 

10th of July 2017. 17:07

A SONG W RO.

Hyper mega super

Hyper super mega

Hhh

HHm

HHs

Super mega hyper 

Super hyper mega

Sss

SSh

SSm

Mega super hyper

Mega hyper super

Mmm

MMs

MMh
Finish.

I wonder how sick he is, the end of the line ‘ends meet’ preventing suicide.

Instead of worrying about people you should get to know them.
Don’t worry about breasts.

Fear not arse.

Just ask me.

It’s a matter of hap, of luck.

The gap in my teeth, the

‘Wear and where’ show my strife. 

My stride, difference. 

“The I” to identify.

Racism is extreme

Difference towards a negative.

Worn down, corrosive.

My heel is stripped.

Unhealable. Unsolved. Torments.

Worries and overthinking.

I.. I! Don’t have to be anywhere now. 
Monday, Thursday, Wednesday Saturday (3 syllables buys you time) Sunday, Friday April – yellow 

Where are you strength? Immaturity, inconsistency.
Masturbating in the shower.
Smiling, talking, shaking hands.
waste, wasted, wastage.
Daughter. Lost wick burned down.
Killing yourself. Underground.
Tired, tied up.
And bastard. Truly yours.
Cold, feathers on the floor.
The unwinding unfathomable, lost quickness of change.
It all happened so fast.
I wish you came by. You could have been here for me.
And you just said no.
Brilliant, swish, hands and genuine feelings and findings.
Beating down on me, sounds of sadness.
Cutting dresses of while, and red.
Regular gold, dripping down between your legs.
Being. Beeing. A buzz.
Heckle, hackles tackles and tracts of tractless energy and no traction.
Loudness and addresses.
Home, way to go. Lost to drink and rape, life and lids and abuse and misuse.
A lousy bit of love a call.

I’d like to see you.
xx

And i’m going no where.
Surrender.
Lost and loss and diabolical love.
Caring- makes us human.
Tastes and preferences define us.
Smelling good.
Intellectualized reality becomes nonsense once removed.
Uncovered, removed, intertextual, self-refferential lostness.
Maybe we could walk, talk swoon and love.
Lost in eachothers arms.
That would be something.
Stomach that. Stomach stomach.
I just want to lay. To rest.
and its funny because she asked me if I was seeing anyone.
As the tears roll down, I say that I saw us kiss.
Yes, yes we are taking things slow.
But its all too fast, and i’m scarring and children and pressures and the whole moment of pressure in one quick short instance of honesty and the scars.
Here her depression weighed down.
I was falling, down down down down.
Past wooden pail.
Pale face in the light, shrinking back.
Swollen crying eyes. Fearfully fading into the blackness.
Drawing breath, a splash of sound.
Fear fear fear.
I am above you.
Dethroned and cut.
Not quite silent droplets of blood drip to the flood.
A door ajar.
Costly moments, sirens and a dragging feeling.
Silent peaceful time alone.

list of broken breath.
Wistful wishes of while celebrants fall bedecked in irony.
Coiling fathomless strands rest at my feet, above my head-
In line with yours. Rope straight. Gravity’s mistake.
The reek of toil crystal pain. Glass shattering in your hands and heart.
Starting to drip down. Your back, your beliefs and efforts.
I scratch, chafe, bleed and feel the hollow.
A loss, lost mimicry of banal speck.
Dire drumming. Crumpling pressure of heart, head, effort and crisis.

Prim’s shapely prison.
Surrounded in a forest, so much life and death.
The natural, beautiful and wholesome decay.
Roundness of stump. Grey green of lichen.
Music sounding, fathoms of want.
Desire woven in webs. Long limbs,
hair of sadness. Growing growing.
Shroud and the unaloud glowering of my other head.
A moose. Hooves in the moss.
Stress and stomping fracture the cold.
Air whisping out in frozen boxes.
Wishes whisper from my lips.
Tongue and teeth click, clasp, whisper and clatter.
‘my love’.
MY BELIEFS
All that I stood for. Represented. Tried for, awash.
Eroded in one explosion.
My loss, the meaning of flirtation, connection lust and love.
One hand massage and a touch.
Old kisses and passion.
Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuuuck.
I will do all these things that I have always wanted to,
in the shower. Our broken promises collide in a way to break out bodies.
Worries washed. Fighting breaths.
Strangling one another.
Embracing waists. Pull pull pull in in in .
The depth of my anger at this mistake.
Faking nothing. Fighting my mind, moving swiftly so as not to acknowledge change, action reaction of meaning. The want and liberty of moment.
The rolling heat. Hands around your throat.
Lifting. Pushing jarringly engorging myself on you.
Sucking you in. Iron bars around you. I will kill you-
Holding you to me. Tighter. You love me. You gasp,
gawking. I could slap you. See you react. I want you to bite me.
We should go to war. I would be stuck with you. Close. Enclosed.
in water, full. Boxed in. No breath. Only room to breathe for one.
Contorted. Surrounded. Between two narrow doorways.
The alley, laid upon one another.
Kidding you, listing strokes.
You moan, if you bite my lips I will shock.
Fight. Smithereens our flesh glows.
Over, nails. A soft kiss. The mind thinks.
I flail, lashing out. Move move.
Rung out. Pull back. Hair twisting.
Kissyou again from behind.
Do something, I exhale.
Into your ear i pour my thoughts. You pout in profile.
I cut into your ribs and stomach with my clenching fingers.
Supporting your left breast.
You are so small. This scale, this perfect woman.
Our games, justification. Posturing.
Love meets its match, end to end.
Ends meet. Back to a beginning of lust.
Crayons of times gone, pictures of health and want.
Our shallow love. Deeply personal loss, exchange and hope.
We’re going nowhere. This continuous failing.
My dissillusion. Delusion. Dissruption, determination failed.
Pristine history uncovered and I wonder.
Unwound but not quite fully.
Why did this end.
And how has this happened now; again after so long.
So long so long. Swelling in and out.
Rapid anger. Fury almost, your shoulders meet.
You are mine.
And my mind whirls as you swivel.
Back to the couch, the run softly holding us, the fire place open from when I crept behind you and gently held you. My first mistake.
Looking into your eyes. Your dignity and respect and my love for you.
I smile. Holding your genuinely tiny, blushing and pristine curves in my arms.
I look the the very shape of love.
Tasting happiness between each of my teeth.
Reflexively brushing your hair, running my hand down your jaw.
you bit my thumb and we start up.
up again.
How do we do this and why.
My barriers down. Honest, free from suppression and vile thoughts of desire lost. You are with me. Drawing me from the well.
Your hair is behind you, parted behind your ears.
I and brought back from the rope.
Buckets of my pour. Overflowing, no brim, movement.
Just waves. Pulsing, rising. rippling.
Warm jubilant sounds.
Murmuring sorrow, and energy that has no feeling but to survive and continue this dance. again again.
Resting side my side. You shiver in orgasm.
I laugh gently, curves and cream.
Holding you tightly.
I am drawn back from the well, into your world.
Into love
into caring.
into hope.
My failing. Again.

Negatives: Fruit fruit vegetable vegetable meat, meathead.

Simple:
A-Poem right? Here-

rehearse! Growing terse. His pain.

Repunzel’s the same.
I suffer not-

not knowing what.

Shirts and ties

Back holding whys.

Yellow.

To share, 

Hair scare. Unfair beware unaware underwear’s fair’s-fair through throughfare’s fare, fires flare as eyes glare. Unreadable. 

Those eyes, scarring-

Scared. Ley worrying cheats my mind from the moment. Fears of laying and saying: the wrong effing thing. Double Edged.

Knees and rings and why am I what tomorrow brings. 

A freedom-

of wanting o forcefully making, trying to make something work and probably never seeing the end before it’s too late. 

Ice skates and Tom waits. 

Harsh words and soft lips. An opening up of nothingness. “See you round” – I roll my eyes at myself and walk. Walk- Throwing white rose petals, in the air, over the sense-anon that spouts out, from my mouth. 

Daft Drafts. Draughty types and typos. Cosmonauts. 

His name is is was Tim.

His fame was was is grim.

Tidying, his rig he’s ever so slim.

The shim-and-shine.

Mine eyes like a cig. 

Not beady, not those of a pig. But coals that smoulder. Bawling Brawlers bustling shoulders. The gym, he’s a boxer. Like gold, bold quick terriers or brown foxers. 

It’s all a fade, hey?

What a joy, what a day.

This poem is about… you being gay.
A free spirited afternoon

Of honest fearing, gimmick, practice at saying the wrong thing. Untidy winding pro, amateur immature prose. Practical miss. A sack of potatoes, airy that I am. Your Pringle. Your bag of chips. Fragments and wonder. Swimming out.

-Sentence starters:”It’s bizarre””Did you know””Isn’t it funny”

“Guess what” (no guess..)

Consie – the sandwhich girl.

This people, tired,

You are hungry.

Knotted, stretched.
You approach:

“Excuse me”

I shake

My head to whatever you’re about to say. 

You ask if you may have the paper. 

“Yes” head shaking, all the while.
I tire of looking for minds.

Great eyes wander-

Looking at the ground.

Scouting around or absent

God sends, lost afraid unwilling.

Making connexion. Hex or

hiatus has lost us our bond.

Puffy lids. Envelope the whites-

I am the egg that careers into a

Future. Unknown and freaked.

Abound ideas of being.

Alone, none of ‘us’. 

None of we… Only a stern look at the ground that kisses my feet. 

Ovals roughly meeting me. Everyone doing everything in a round about. 

Conga lines form from politeness.

Arbitrary society, we are together for no reason. Our curiosity in life, boring into the backs of friends and strangers heads alike. Only kicking out when natures pull tells us rightly. 

Pitter-patter of feet.

The potter of dance and gardening.

Magic grows from within. 

But the line that we follow in circles grows thin. And the bonds sever. Hands on flinching shoulders makes the relation un-cherished. Red faces and wrong reasons. 

Out with time. Our disconnect and freedom is a misstep. Kicking out. Lashing left with two right feet. The conga line that we cling returns us each, individually. -us, our own. Alone

To humble home 

Land line’s phone.

Connexion.