I stand alone in this wretched room. I feel rage. I feel pain. I feel tears. I let nothing drown my sorrows. Nothing could be of any help. Months ago where was everyone around me? Somewhere to be seen. Now they are nowhere, far out in the smoggy plains of Britain. The room hums a … Continue reading Poem: Hypnagogic
Poem: Her head leaning against the bus window
If the past had not been so fucked. Then it would of worked. Hell just knowing that was painful. A delirious fever. A waking catharsis. Almost unbearable. As she passed. As beautiful as always. Her headphones stuck in. And. Her head leaning against the bus window.
Poem: The last of his urges
A man was a man. Time passed. He felt like an animal. With urges so shunned. That he felt alone. He indulged these urges. Fucking his way through humanity. Happy when he was with someone. Sad when he was without someone. He thought he liked solely sex. He didn't know he also liked love. More … Continue reading Poem: The last of his urges
Poem: No loneliness
The cold. The warmth. The squealing. The screaming. Thoughts, strange and potentially not right. Tits. And. Asses. Images. Undoubtedly. Pleasurable. There's no doubt. About any of it. Especially. The tits and ass. Because their so fucking good.
Poem: A line to wander
I walked a road once. Gambling and drinking. My eyes wide shut to the oblivion I had entered. Though one day I saw a girl. Drinking alone in self-pity. She knew so much. Yet knew so few. I stood in a shadowy alley once. Lighter just wouldn't light. thinking the the light would push the … Continue reading Poem: A line to wander
Ben Brizell 