Headache

My Head is Killing me.
And it's not so much the Pain that Hurts.
But the Betrayal.

And my Funeral will be one of Dark Colours,
and Silent Music.
Not Sorrowfully Though.
"He only Sleeps"

Sleep... No. Rest is what I need.
Kryptonian Resurrection at Daylight
Though the Sun is my Kryptonite.
It's a Love-Hate relationship..
I am the Hater.

Though I'm still not a Fighter.
Barely a Lover.
So my Title may be a bit Complex at that Junction.
Or I'm overthinking.

The Betrayal.

Or maybe I Had it Coming.
 

Quirk

I guess we're all a Bit Twisted

Out Of Shape
Out Of Mind
Out Of Tone
But the Little Dents and Twists
Make every Set Piece Different.
And Believe Me:
I Love The Quirk.

Not that I really expect Requited Love.
But then again,
Love is Taboo.
The World runs on Eros.
So Why Bother.

And even if I'm Physically Stagnant
Everything else is Screaming,
Bouncing off Walls,
Gnawing on a Straightjacket.
Not that I'm Crazy...

I'm Just A Little Quirk.

And probably the Only One I'm not particularly fond of.

But then again,
There's a part of all of us that Relinquishes the Novel.
We all seek for the Different.
Our Boundaries are just Individual.

We are All A Little Craz  Quirky...
Even the best of us.


But the best of us Enjoy it.

Love Lost

I've Watched my Grandfather Mourn the Last of his Coffee.
The Last Scoop.
The Kettle Over a Medium Flame.
Slow to Boil.
He Watched the Water.
He Sighed.
The Weekly Funeral Procession.
Taking the last of the Bottle to it's Murky Grave.
He Sipped It's Eulogy.
But Remained Strong.
He Never Cried.
Never.

A Lost Love.