The Flaky Derelict

Of masks, monsters and demons caged in my head.

To Scotland I

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See,

it doesn’t have to make sense,

it doesn’t have to be logical,

it is what it is.

You are a stranger

as you are strange,

everything I want to see,

albeit can’t,

the life I do not breathe,

the freedom of my fantasies,

and a lonesome summer breeze.

I want to kiss you,

not because I love you,

nor because I am lusting for you.

but because I want to press my cigarette mauled lips against you

then I would pause to look at you

with wonder in your brown eyes

and maybe then I’d kiss them too,

simply because I want to.

see,

I wish I would speak the words instead,

but they won’t let me,

friends in my head,

but at least this is I, writing

or I think it is.

one of them really likes this piece,

another despises it,

a third thinks I’m an idiot

and a fourth claims I’m a teenager romance whore.

So I will not speak of affection

of which I know little

nor dwell on lust

of which I have abundance.

I just want to kiss you,

maybe comfort you,

and feel like a twat, writing this to you.

I wonder,

how people will read this,

the very few that do

make me self conscious

self restricting

but it does not matter

nothing has to;

these ramblings

this body

my face

your faith

your awkward laughter

or your misunderstanding of this

all is hell, all is bliss

all will go to shit

simply because I want to want to.

Image

Author: Zeus

I am the grey area, everything by choice and nothingness by choice, wherein everything is possible as it is improbable.

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