New Civilization

My work, my life, my love. I enjoy no more.

Like every work of fiction it has had a beginning, a middle and now must end.

I’ve lived, loved and lost a thousand times or more, maybe 1001 is my lucky number.

Only time will tell.

Stretched beyond belief, more tired than the old mule that pulled my plough sheer a hundred years ago.

I crave retirement from this life.

I’ve experienced these times enough, the decadence, the despair, the desparate nature of human beings.

Bring on the next millennium.

I foresee the death of religion (about 2000 years too late). Disolution of the family unit. Humans will become more.

Our time as a society has come full term. We are guided – no driven to our destruction by men who only care about now.

What sense of hope remains for the youth of this world?

My recommendation is a total cleansing of this populous and the birth of a new civilisation… another go can’t hurt, after all, we have forever.

Still I Weep

I’m hurt, though you can’t see my wounds, I bleed.

You’ve taken the best part of me, I live on your need.

I cry, and though you do not see my tears, still I weep.

Obsolete

I refuse to be obsolete, tossed aside like I matter no more. At times it seems I take one step forward only to fall backwards into myself.

I’ve forgotten who I am, what I feel.

Each day it becomes harder to seperate myself from the facade I’ve build for you.

I’m no artist, I couldn’t draw to save my soul. And yet when i try I’d like the support of those around me.

Not What you Need

I’m not what you need – a dying breed, I care what you think, I can hear what you’ll say before your lips part.

I feel the pain of your rejection, before you’ve uttered a sound.

I crave your presence, longing your return, before you leave the room.

Expired

Eyes wide, mouth agape, a strange noise errupts from the depths.

I feel the carriage of air, rough below my thumbs. Am I not doing this right? His movements still strong below me, this is not quite the embrase he was expecting.

I look into his eyes and recount the years that have passed. My fear has lead me to this point.

His movement slows. The eyelids flutter they stay wide. The air no longer moves, his chest no longer attempts to rise…

At last freedom comes.

Tell Me By Touch

My life is a series of glances. I saw you once, you won’t remember. So briefly we touched as your name was conveyed. It’s amazing at times for people like me, how much more a touch says that your words never can.

I know of your betrayal, she doesn’t and that’s just as you like it. You wondering, as you shake my hand and glance around the room, will she miss you if you call at 2am and let her know you’re crashing at Jason’s? It’s so much closer and the trains aren’t running.

Shit dude, you have rehersed it all day, when will the boy grow to become a man? You haven’t even picked your next conquest… but you want it down just in case.

She doesn’t have Jason’s number. He’s just some guy at work, you know enough about him to describe his appearance and nothing more.

Your grip tightens, your hand moves away. When I’ve finished writing this down, I’ll purge this memory evermore and try to believe that a man can be true.

Clean Slate

You need to realise that this was first written on a page in a note book. On the way home in the train.

This was a perfectly good blank piece of paper… til I wrote this on it for no reason what-so-ever.

Now it is no longer blank it is no good to anyone else but me.

Having written this I best use it for something good!

But what?

How about this; close your eyes!

Nope that’s it! Had you done what I asked and closed your eyes you would not be reading this now.

Okay Okay how about this?

Letting all the gay people roam free instead of locked up for crimes against God is destroying the moral fabric of society.

Discuss!