The rain never stopped fallingthe day you went awayclouds forever heavymy life a shade of grey

the weather never lightenedthe streets began to floodthe torrents streaming past meare coloured by my blood

I didn't want to hurt youI hurt myself insteadthe crisp white shirt you bought meis now a shade of red

If you were to cut through me I'd probably bleed puns,

well that's not true, I'd probably, if not certainly die.

I love to savour the flavour of a pun, feel it swell in my brain until it pops out in a burst of expectant laughter, this however isn't always the case, when I'm met with the look on the other persons face.

My quick witted lips quip bits quicker than a sonar, hoping to stroke that comedy boner, to pull the giggle trigger and tip the barrel of laughs, but most of the time I look around and people think I'm daft.

Now most people would give up at this point, most people would give up the gun, but there's something that makes me keep going, I must land the perfected pun.

I twist words to fit my vernacular, I've merged things like it's almost spectacular, but the essence is forced and the words get divorced and I'm left with a pain in my medulla.

So for now I will keep them under wraps, avoiding the meta, those parodic traps, puns are draining and I don't have the time, to hit the nail on the head with that incredible line.

Cannot place these absent fragments,

but I feel formations near,

these individual segments,

some when viewed are not so clear.

The missing piece of a jigsaw can be one to cause frustration,

not being able to finalise the picture and the feeling of non-completion,

the details on the final piece could be incredible and vast,

showing a magnitude of details and reflections of the past,

does it tell a thousand stories,

does it say nothing at all,

does it manipulate your senses,

can it make you feel a fool?

With this missing piece of puzzle,

gone absent without leave,

a mental piece is formed instead,

this final piece of make believe.

It glitches as you try to place it,

your mind can't fill a void,

it overlays with an imaginary bit,

Invisibility deployed.

Scissors of shame slice me out of the picture and set me aside into problematic piles and now I'm combining thoughts, feelings and outcomes into collages of captured confusions whilst trying to map out my mind and find an answer to overcome these topographical triggers.

It's hard for me to let down my guard when I don't trust the things that you do,

but holding on to this burning rage will only produce a black goo.

This goo is my anger,

negativity and rage,

it's my disappointment and sadness uncaged,

it grows as I feed it with broken-off spikes of my protective inner core,

I'm on red alert to protect from the hurt but the sirens are blaring and raw.

They feed directly off of this sombre sludge,

and holding on to this obstinate grudge,

will only inflate this amorphous void,

until all my weapons are fully deployed,

unable to fire as the triggers are stuck,

a victim of this malevolent muck,

I need to release it before it goes sentient,

I should be the one that I represent.

I do want to talk but I don't want to yet,

time is a healer if lest we forget,

you've dented my defences and they need time to heal,

if I don't give it time then I'm not sure how I'll deal.

A few things are certain,

this has changed things a lot,

things won't snap back to how they were,

and somethings may wither and rot,

but to give you a chance to talk is one thing I'll do,

just don't fuck it up again,

because it'll all be on you.

It lies at the bottom of my stomach,

cold and heavy,

born out of the dishonest diversions and the untruth spores that now infect the air around me,

but I can't be angry?

Wrong,

because I can be angry,

no more candy-coated careful conversations,

I will bite back and track the lack of respect I once thought you held and now I'm compelled to see-through.

See,

through these actions which spoke louder than your words,

subtractions that broke fowler,

leave me fuelled by contempt and the unheard.

Call me crazy but why exactly should I care,

when it's clear that you don't either,

unless it's getting you somewhere.

If things don't go the way you want,

I.E to benefit you,

You run away all nonchalant,

Regardless of pain you'll imbue.

So forgive me if I'm quiet or a little less connected,

these kind of actions you chose to make are going to get reflected,

I'm objective and protective in this retrospective mind,

don't mistake me for a fool in this,

that's one thing you won't find.

Don't take kindness for softness,

I can be harder than a diamond when I need,

lies planted in the soil,

will always produce a weed.

Through disappointment and staggered smiles, the awkward silence fell.

An invisible and unstoppable force annihilating those in it's vicinity.

See these muted-moment missiles armed and ready for the unsteady stutter, uttered and spluttered, lips trip over each other to smother the speech, leeching syllables and sibilants, phonetically frostbiting and staging a war on the tongue.

Choked by these waiting words, a throat full of foolish and fearsome frustration, an addition of self-doubt stealing shouts and shrinking them to whispers.

I sit upon a faded maroon chair, beside me are piles of magazines not changed for years, half of the celebrities adorning the covers are dead, the fashions photographed within are well and truly off trend.

Time flows around us and let's us know when things are meant to happen.

Take a moment and absorb these speckles of brilliance.

Take a deep breath and let your lungs fill to capacity.

Live in the moment.

Feel the warmth of the sun through the window on a bitterly cold morning.

Taste the kisses and drink them in.

Close your eyes and remember this.

A bookmark for your brain.

a flagellation fallout,naked flesh glows tender,skin smouldering like embers freshly stoked,stars embossed and emblazoned in the windows of the soul.

post-coital convulsions,pulsations and palpitations oscillating within.

mass elation,exhalation,tactile transmissions intoxicating the perceptions of awareness,communication through the intimate medium of optical copulation.

messy memorandums spilt upon a depleted chassis,adorned by an attire of abrasions.