The Start Of The 4 Nights Of Hell

I still think I’m going to get married to you one day
As all the onlookers gaze with smug interpretations on their face
As if they could see everything 5 moves ahead
Maybe I can give them a little ask from years from the past

Cos I just wanna tell you, how much flows on the inside
Everytime life deals yourself on my plate
No matter how much fortification we erect around ourselves
We can’t ignore the life force we surge into ourselves
I’d give up any future that was guaranteed for me
To shatter the glass barricades for only a day
That glass I know has to be shattered one day, a mere delay
So I can one day tell you their’s no amount of time I can wait
Your still the only one who can breath the life veins into me
Reverse this petrified heart of mine and see

I’m in and out with the world’s pallet
And lord knows I tried, I tried so hard
To get them to understand my heart
Get them to flow into me
But try as I might there’s nothing I can do
I just can’t love anyone as much as I loved you
I can be good, I can be everything
I can be anything, I can be nothing
I can be all you want, I can be your blood,
I can be your soul and beat through and through
Cos I don’t love anyone at all
At least nowhere as much as I love you

But I know I won’t get married to you one day
There’ll be no satisfied theorist to give us away
I know I’ll be no good, I know I’ve never been good
Cos it’s gotta be him, never me and you

Lnc0

From the ‘The 4 Nights Of Hell’ series

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Little extra backstroy on this one, this poem was less written more ‘found’ on my hardrive, I must’ve written this while drunk at the end of a night out, at the start of the 4 nights these next few poems will be based around, thought I did punctuation and spelling corrections, I didn’t change anything, this is just what I wrote and it’s so sad to know there’s a part of me that’s hurting this bad

Things A Boy Can Never Be

Grabbing galaxies from your palms
As they linger a meander in the atmosphere
Cos to say you had the world in your hands
Would be a gross understatement

You command the eyes with your sways
You dodge the gazes like lasers in a 80’s flick
But made damn sure they were still looking your way
Everytime you touch their cheeks
You can see their gods die in their eyes
There’s no value in faith of the unseen
For the night, your all they believe in now

So desired, so admired
They flock around you like magpies
Such lust, with a little warmth
And if you allow it maybe even a little love

It cuts me up as a bystander
I’m not in the queue with a ticket in hand
I have my eyes on a bigger prize then that
I don’t wanna be with you, I wanna be you

To have each step treated like a tremor
With people dashing from their seats
Just for a chance of a gamble to be in proximity
And feel like I have a reason to be anywhere
To have every crook of my body
Analysed and immortalised in verse
To have the eyes of envy gaze longingly
Then have the eyes of jealousy mark me

I can’t stand to see it so out of my reach
I’m swaying with loaned energy on the floor
But if they’re not looks of bewilderment
Then it’s nostalgic gaze of malice
I’ve no reason to be anywhere, it’s clear
As they back away to get out range

To be as loved as her
To be as desired as her
To be so admired as her
Just a handful
Of the many things
That a boy can never be

Lnc0

I Never Thought I Could Say It And Mean It

No time for concern
No time for solace
Too busy with bathing in your flower bed
No windows in inhaling family matters
No gaps in soaking up romantic rewards
No pauses in revealing in your network

Here’s to the loneliest week of my life
No one’s got the time to check around
Under their boots, behind the sofa
For those of us without units
No friends to share a drink with
No family to send well wishes
No lovers to wake up with
Nobody at all on Christmas day

This has become the loneliest time of year
The isolation has turned me
Into a holiday special villain
I can say without doubt for the first time

I fucking hate Christmas

Lnc0

Know oneself, Know Nothing else [W.I.P]

Plump, full and pristine
They make the act fulfilment look easy
Success stories plastered all over the tag
But like a Polaroid sex selife
That’s a lot of effort put into looking effortless
“I’m like this all the time” through crocodile teeth
Thanks for the vote of self-consciousness
Cos surely, oh surely it isn’t just me
Screaming for affection, echoing back retaliation
Looking at success and content, like a Roswell autopsy
I recognize elements for sure, but they’re so far from me

Surely I’m not the only one beating their heart against a wall
Drawing dust from the monument of the lovers call
It wouldn’t be so bad if I was packing with ignorance
We’re all twiddling our clits and dicks on a conveyor belt
Picking our social barraging chips from the shelves
A pinch of E for you, a doctors prescription for me
What I mean to say is I never wanted the barrier to increase
For the quota to get even more precise then before
But you’d think I’d just struck the gold mine
Ticket tape parades on the park benches
Congrats! Now you know a lot more about yourself!
But now I know less about my world then with my eyes shut

Now, I don’t mean to be cynical but this doesn’t feel better…

I can’t repeal the ideal outcome from my mind
A single bedroom pad, with resources seconds away
Come barging back from another book signing
The Queen and The Goddess both turn in tandem
Grasping salvation in my hands; a family meal deal
And after they both pin me down, teeth gritting, demands in hand
Complying line by line, like a good slave oughta
There’s no doubt in the efficiency the format provides
As we’re recovering our vitality arms in arms
To white trash youtube until the break of dawn
But in a world of keyword comms, what’s of point of it?
1,000 pets and funnymen won’t posses the quota of wit

Cos surely, oh surely it can’t just be me?
That’s had every dream and idea, slowly taken away?

The Kids Of The 60’s And 70’s Are Useless‏

We’ve been told we’re the lost generation
An age that’s thrown our lives to the cycle of sleaze
But we’re really the generation that’s just trying to cope
Picking up the trash left behind by the settlers of ‘67
Coming home to an empty home again and again
Feeding of the scraps and sparing our own rods

Tell your mumma to mind her own business
Tell your pappy he doesn’t have to worry
Because the kids of the 60’s and 70’s never grew up
And it’s up to us to clean up after them

The kids of the 80’s and 90’s are in reality so much more
We’ve learnt from our neighbours to swat away the handicaps
Of a disappearing drunken father, you only offered you another fag
Of a malfunctioning mother who traded your lunch money for another hit
And for those parents who decided to stick around
We’ve learnt to only expect, to be told the things we never did
To be told we can’t do things, To treat NVQ’s like pictures on the fridge
To accept we’re punching bags for their own poor life choices

We’ve adapted to take compliments from the mirror
To treat our homes no less of a warzone then the urban jungle outside of it
To drown out that nagging in our ear that tries to reinforce
That just because they never saw you staving of suicide
While staring at another application on Reed.com
That it never happened, and that your useless

We’ve learnt to brush it off our shoulders
Because when the time comes, after hours and decades of labour
Of honing your acrylic blade, and sharpening your tongue
And you see the kids of the 60’s and 70’s
Chewing on their Beastie Boys Vinyl and while sucking their thumbs
Looking confused without a son or daughter to take their anger out on
And asking what they could’ve possibly of done wrong to have been left behind
You’ll know you came all the way up here from tattered clothes
And feeding of the scraps of government donated rations
And you’ll know you did it all on your own

Tell your pappy to mind his own business
Tell your mumma you got it all under control
Tell them you still believe they love you
Because the kids of the 60’s and 70’s couldn’t even keep a cat alive
Let alone try and cushion the blow from the sober fact
That the kids of the 80’s and 90’s have no future to look forward too

– Lnc0

Be Infatuated (W.I.P)

My common sense is running on its reserves
And my sense of logic has fallen prey to hypothesis
Gleaming duo’s and content herds that gladly tickle the gland
Inn my head that duplicates envy at an alarming rate
Madam I couldn’t explain how I’m currently standing on my two feet
I’m flat out of assurance, every drop spent i’m all empty now

I have no right, but if I can ask for a favour?
Be Greedy, Be Demanding, Be Infatuated

I’m gagging for a carefully constructed sentence or two
Thrown my way out of the Cerulean after a period of radio silence
You can excaudate and inflate a fleeting thrill
Turn compliments into a 4 paragraph analysis
Just a little something to make me feel whole
Give me a delusion that I’m necessary to you again

I have no right, but if I can ask for a favour?
Be Needy, Be Clingy, Be Infatuated

I can’t help but fantasize about you laying spread upon your spread
Staring at the ceiling with your legs crossed
Craving the chance to get into my head at the best
Craving me to stop the eruption at the worst
I’m not a fussy man, I’ll take any request you demand of me
Anything to know you were thinking of me, voluntarily

I have no right, but if I can ask for a favour?
Be hungry, Be starved, Be Infatuated

Summer (Set)

The worse thing imaginable has come to pass
The sun as it seems has started to fall
And with it comes a sudden chill down my spine
That can only signify the nights arrival
And with it descends the frightening reality
That you’ll be spending another night alone

Hey what’s the rush man? You don’t have work tomorrow
Come on we have so much more to discuss!
Music to compare and dissect
Scenesters to breakdown and rip
Outings to theorize and plan
What could possibly be waiting for you at home?
Come on just one more hour

Oi! Kill the motor guys, what’s the matter with you?
There are much more antics to be had!
Remember the times in the year ‘08?
Grabbing the attention of the 1% through their bells
Then promptly removing the traces that we were ever there?
You couldn’t have any of that back home with your misses!
One more bottle, just one more please
I’m begging you

But now the heard have gone back to the stable
For me? Nah, There’s so much to do!
Think about the life slipping through my fingers
Think all about the landmark moments that are dead and gone
Think about what’s the fucking point anymore?
Only misery and mutilation wait for me back home
But they’ve gone home to fuck their girls
So I have no choice…