Ex Irish dancer-cum-English teacher extraordinaire
She moves through the fair. Like a whippet on crack. She has beautiful eyes. but her feet are her lack. She's a thinker, a muse,. Dedicated to fear. Educationally challenged. And emotionally queer.
And still you hold fast like a vice gripped from the first kiss, stretching me beyond all human reason and even in my seasoned self-awareness I still weaken at the thought of you with someone else.
It's funny how time drags when you're not having fun- It swallows you up when you're not number one- When you're silently protesting, out in the sun with no SPF. Out in the cold; new for old....
That's the way the cookie crumbles,. Fire burns and thunder rumbles;. Signalling the end of what was. No es mi novio. At once a good thing. Now turned slightly sour. My face is so dour-.
A blanket of cloud. covers the sky. the edges of life. are passing me by. I trudge. I trapse. with no clue where I’m going. I know that it’s somewhere thats out of my reach.
You are the anchor which weighs heavily and pervades my very soul -pinning me into stagnation in a way which only God knows The wind has vanished from my sails as run aground, I stumble on towards...
I hate the way your name reminds me how we used to be I hate the way the ‘l’ stands tall and lines up with the ‘P’ and ‘a’ and ‘u’ are in the centre; vowels that spell my awe, that definite, though...
Hopeless, hapless, endless love were you sent from God above. Or are you in affilliation with the dark Lord.
“That’s life!” they say, but watch as it passes me by as I sit on the sidelines and cry about not being able to focus on any one singular thing -except him.
Standing tall beneath the mindscape of my current change of scenery. What will it take to keep my nose clean of the powdery poison that is you and your hallucenagenic qualities.
How is it, it always seems to follow me. Even when I’m not within the bounds of my very own self-made prison-cell; wallowing in self-pity.
Despite the fact that memories fade the trace is stained upon my face and even though I try to hide it every now and then I stumble.
The only sign of life today is water on my window pane it drips and drips like time gone by...
I wonder if its possible to drown in ones own tears. To die of broken-heartedness, or cancer of my fears. If so, my life is over and I cannot win the fight. Love life, career.
You haunt me daily like a friendly ghost, I don't know how to cope I try and try, remembering the reasons why I ought to have forgotten you by now I ought to have begotten you by now Now I know how...
It’s been 30 days since you sent me your ‘gift’; A flaccid, Hot-Air-Balloon of Broken Dreams and humiliation A stark reminder of your failings and of my pitiful demise at both our hands You...