So i sat and listened to her cry

Empathy, a thing of the past
I couldn't see how an intelligent and logical person could get so hurt
I asked what could make someone hurt so
To which I realized I felt so little
Maybe I sat and listened to reaffirm my dislikes for weak minded fools...
Or maybe I listened to remind me how much we can feel
(Musical) scores and philosophical words did just as much as my absence of thought

Love is

Love is when a woman says "I hate you"
And a man says "she doesn't annoy me".

When i forget

When I am tired and feel that I do not have time for you
Remind me that you are all I have time for
When I think dancing has no merit or physical play had no meaning
Tell me it is the one reason I am here
Sing with me, even when voiceless to remind me there is no life without expression

For if I fail, may I forever be a broken man

Look past

What are those people who can look through art, like it wasn't there or never existed?
And how dare they state there is nothing new or beautiful in the world... But then perhaps they see their own art and have no time for that which is declared.

The smell of barley sets in a state and we buy in to the history which makes this our own.
But the sweat of broken men can set a lost individual on another downward spiral.
Leave this on the floor and watch in excitement as the star picks itself up and glides on ice to succeed.

Ah man, the rush
The uncontrollable outbursts
The joy of the win and the union of the celebration.
I've never had this and savour each moment. I love being a stranger. I love exploring alone.

Punch drunk

It's been nice
A washed up alcoholic
Either too stupid, proud... Or enlightened to change his ways.
Ironic how those who make sense, talk worthless nonsense yet those with gems of insight can barely stay on track to finish their point.
I despise hearing of my past from others but absolutely fascinated to hear the history and personal lives of the generations above. Of those I cared about.
I know we're all just people, but to hear we are is magic.
Dying of self abuse and lonelinesses...
The only life for a failed hero.
...The only life for a saved hero.
But I'm not here to be your son
I'm not here to judge you or save you either.
You're not the first person to try reconsolidation through replacement.
But don't try it with me.
I don't need or want this bond
I'm here out of interest, an interest of those passed, an interest which is wearing thin.

Kill me please.

The stranger walked in slowly dragging an oversized blade.
Intrigued, I watched. Calm and un-threatened I lean across and continue to eat my M&M's. The peanut type. I seem to be keen on these lately.
I am unable to see the stranger's face. It is covered by hood and is not facing me.
The stranger pauses as if 'he' was not sure what was next and what he was doing there. But that blade! The blade just shy of a small sword, so shiny. It had purpose.
With a crunch of a peanut the stranger's head jerks left as he then realises I am in the room.
"Are you here to steal life or possession?" I ask.
The stranger remains quite for a moment... But then replies

"If i'm not here to kill you, I'm here to kill me"

Flyon

What do I owe 'reality'?
The child laughs as I am funny. And free to fool.
I'll take the head ache
I'll take the cost
And now I have grown

- sleeps