Somewhere On Your Way You Lose The Want For Sleep At Night

somewhere on your way you lose the want for sleep at night

you stay up until the sun shines through your window and fall asleep once your house stirs

the nights are long and you haven't felt so alone in so long

and on those nights

nothing has a face

the whole world is all eyes

there's something missing

the missing poster is missing a face

the mirror is missing a reflection

you're missing feeling at home

you're missing your old self

you're missing yourself

and on those nights

you don't have a face

" reflectionless " - zero (me)

I choose to silence myself most days

I choose the end row of the train

I choose the seat on the back by the window

I choose to sit on the noisiest wheel

I choose to suffocate

I chose however to tell you today

I chose to be an idiot in love and be loud

I hope I'll make my mother proud

"choices" - zero (me)

the more I've yearned for you

the more I would look to the moon

on these nights i couldn't stop smiling

I told the moon all the things I love

about you

and now you know about most of it

and somehow with it I've found

myself smiling at the sun so much

more often than before, I would tell it

that I'm happy to be awake,

that I am happy to be in love

• may the moon keep you warm while I can't - zero (me)

there seems to be a universal understanding

of the fact that no good life was a good story

good lifes make good examples and I make

poetry and bonfire stories that can't go unheard

and I am glad for all the harm that was done

to me and only to me, for maybe it was better

to make my life worse and my poems relatable

noone reads poetry when they're alright, and

more so noone ever writes poetry when happy

maybe the stars aligned in this way for every poet

maybe god made us with a bigger purpose, than

any mortal happiness, made us for eternal things

written in ink and lived through in our own blood

- zero (me)

[ I finished writing my poetry book and I just know I will hate all of them in a year or two. I am never proud of my poetry. my mind is a burn book ]

everything is changing and it feels like spring came too quickly

it's sunny and bright outside this weird February

and everything seems to be changing so rapidly

and I've come to realise everything is dependant on a perspective

when I saw an angel from a weird angle

the bright sun making it's features distorted

and lately I've been cold in more ways than just one

and today I felt like crying about everything

and I did when you held me at a bus stop and told me you're grateful to have me

and we talked about the future

or the lack of it

in the time we had until your ride home came

both decided on a silent life and nice cafes

I need you to know you're a good kid

and I know you're going places

• places better than this one - zero (me)

(on friends who hold your head like they're afraid of hurting you in any way. on having no future but still hoping for at least another summer. I came back home with cold finger tips and this poem scribbled on my hands. I told you about my ideas for my poetry but now you're in one.)

godless children in your churches!

and an atheist f*ggot is teaching them about life!

they are both so dirty and unworthy!

the priest asks for kids who wanna say a prayer

say it loud and proud for the whole church

in front of a microphone for all to see

a dozen little hands shoot up immediately in your eye sight

all of those tiny tired eyes sparkle with hope and faith

for they are still to learn that not even god loves them

the priest does not choose any of the precious children with tired eyes

he chooses a few ones that are dressed appropriately

for church and for the weather

for their age and current fashion trends

a boy who almost never talks drops his head and murmurs

"he's never chosen me yet"

oh is this boy to learn that it takes more than luck to be chosen!

an atheist is asked where god sleeps at night

the answer is far away, just in case

we were to riot at night and he'd have to take blame

an atheist is asked how do we get to heaven?

the answer is, how would I know

god has stated he hates people who love like me

my mother would tell you we get there beautiful and perfect

and I don't believe in your fairytale god

but I believe there's no more ways a child full of hope can be beautiful

but if there's a heaven

if there's a god listening

let death be kinder to these children.

let there be heaven, even if just for them.

let there be warm clothes and shoes without holes

let there be a death, kinder than men

let death be kinder than priests, who can only complain

how unraised they are,

as if we didn't know before

let death take their hands gently and not leave any scabs

let heaven be a place for a better start

• "kids tend to ask hard questions" - zero (me)