Please Excuse My Cold Nature

Laments, sadness, change, failure - everything that is still forcing me towards cynicism and a sarcastic heart, of which I have no love. And my apology.


barely breaks a smile through a weak and twisted mind,

where every mental hands that leaves a mental imprint,

dissolves and shies away.

That is my hollow soul, and the slices of sadness I am missing –

or, perhaps, the ragged thief has hid them for herself:

jealousy with insincerity,

after all: she tasted death as a lover;

they enjoyed their dance and saw my lonely future as their power.


My argument comes from a sense of desperation,

that I failed because I tried, not because of a system, random to the world;

yet, the argument hides from realisation:

yes, I have been that failure,

and the cloak still coats my bare shoulder a warm blue sunset,

where the system once laughed.

Too, the argument wields its power,

not by remembering victory, but by exemplifying

misery. I will use the other Bearer of Christ as my example

once, for you are sick of hearing how much the lament looks like him;

indeed, maybe I would reiterate:

I wielded kinder words in his presence,

and Heaven’s guide held Heaven’s gates,

whilst the River of Cattle splashed its path in my journey;

with him or without I may have washed my skin under its cleaner jets.


We cannot forget that I lost both of those.

The sand slipped too far; and glass fell from my crimson fingers.

Every uncomplimented strain simply reminds me of my insignificance.



not myself, nor the crumpled reflections of my heart, a mass print too faded

and the Liturgy direction pushed aside,

but the other organisation

of a world that never had me as a master;

yes, I expect the jealous-demon to emerge

in the black curves of your elegant face –

simply, we must fight her together, not as soldiers with clicking keys and coloured typeface,

but with the love I am supposed to have,

before you left, before I returned,

before our paths darted in and out of the limelight.

But it came as your light, not mine. I only ever snatched it

unfairly, some might say. I have no skill

and I must learn that: I am second to you always.

Please excuse my cold nature. Of my bitterness I’m still trying to


The End

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