bruh idk

I do not have big words 

to express myself

but there is a reality to romance

there is so much distortion in a young perception of it

i'm not just talking about the expectations from a partner 

but the fact that everyone experiences it differently 

there is a fear that sets in

when we find out that it is not all what we thought out that it would be

in friendships

in romances

in family

I have a place where i come home to rest 

but my house is becoming scarce

as i grow bigger 

my emotions aren't mine only

they are shared by those around me 

like magnets, repulsion and attractions happen.

there was once a happy realisation 

my life needs more than a couple of sittings to be told

but now it seems like such a misery 

a five course meal of stories 

when all i want is a fast food solution to my problems

no longer want to understand or be understood

no longer want to care or be cared for 

all because people will only understand what they want to 

and because caring is understood as wanting pity

so we become lonely 

a 3 a.m. draft post drinks and loneliness

We forget how mush distance there is between us

but i remember it like a headache

it's all i think about when my mind drifts apart

i'm stuck in a room with two clocks

each second ticks after the other

like the beating of a heart

it makes me tick

and a lock and key cannot help 

to stop their murmurings

and so the night marches

with the cold sifting into the world

Ownership

You say my name as if it's yours

I have no ownership 

You own it as if my soul has your tongue imprinted all over it

It travels in me 

Reminding each part that it's not my own

I have no control over myself

I feel like an intruder in my own body 

I don't think I should be here. 

You were supposed to be my mirror 

But the water in the pond has become muddier

Maybe that's why you can't see me anymore 

If I were a bird, 

I'd hold it within my palms and crush it 

How can it be alive 

The least, it should be crippeled

I would squeeze in hopes the life goes out 

But what I hate the most is the possibility that it might not die. 

I open my palms and i will see it 

Legs twitching and trying to stay alive. 

I will leave it as it is.

No remorse for my own actions 

I'd think about it and wonder how it turns out. 

Maybe someday I'd see it again, doing it's best to hop and fly,

To be like others 

But it won't ever be 

Everyone bird will be on their own 

And it will do it's best to get along 

But it won't ever be able to 

It can't 

Because it won't hold remorse against my palms 

It won't do anything but hold onto the remorse and keep moving forward. 

I hate the bird and yet

I'm a little proud of it. 

But it's ironic how easily it gets caged

Daylight

Do I miss them for their wisdom 
or because they're dead?

Is it the idea of remembering someone?

Or the fact that you can think them up to be whatever you want 

no body to dispute it

For the dead will be dead

Whether they are alive or not

Doesn't matter

No memory serves well

No way to confirm eccentricities or idiosyncrasies 

It didn't matter to me when they were alive

So why do i care now?

What do i bring to the feast of sorrow?

When did I ever give a shit about him?

I don't care about what is alive

What he has left after him

My behaviour says 

"it's all all dead"

So why do i catch myself thinking back to him?

I hope you never find yourself waiting for the sun to rise

For it would be the longest night you'll spend