As rust eats away its flesh, Its surface crumbles under the weight, Of absence and of hollowness, Like a blackhole preying on light. I should've read the signs before, Too much faith I had. My crutch won't

Now I see it, Now I'm blinded. Now I hear it, Now I'm deafened. Works like clockwork, this. You pull me in, You push me out, Feels like heartwork, this. Tick, tick, tick; Hit, miss, miss. You see us, now

It's a circus, there's little doubt For the giant wheel turns and turns, With colours, laughter and excitement, And roars that pound the ground. Scary, this, Never ending too. How many times will you turn?

She loves me, She loves me not, She loves me; She's not in love with me. It's as clear as the dew drop, With rays of light shining off of it, On a cold winter morning, With a silence to match the mood.

I have almost arrived. I stand where you stand, You don't where I do, in time. Years it took, courage it took, Will, rebellion, it took too. Shedding the body, to regain anew Like her lunar menstrual flows.

The alienation that one faces while living in an urban setting that is increasingly accepting a neoliberal way of life as common sense is the tragedy of our lives. A society that is uncompromising in its