Misaligned.

We are the  
children of  
skin and bone  
 
Remind me where  
home is again...  
 
She tells me  
she's sick of this city  
I tell her i've never  
felt at home here.  
 
I tell her my foreign  
is a machine-gun  
but one without ammo.  
 
Someone tell her  
she is loved too...  
 
We are the  
misfits.  
 
Others argue that  
we fit more than  
those who 'belong'  
as if belonging  
relies on skin colour.  
 
You fucking blackbeard fucker...  
from one side
 of  
my ethnic prism  
 
You fucking pseudo-cunt  
From
the
other..  
 
Looks from those who  
believe they belong 'here'  
Whispers, sighs and  
shadows sit in my stomach.  
 
•/*~&&&&  
 
Settle down  
sit in the stillness  
of silent symphonies  
the curtains will close  
s o m e d a y  
 
26/03/2017  
 
I calculate  
the milligrams  
of the boxes of  
Prescription pills  
Hidden in bags  
in my cupboard  
 
Pace like a panther  
locked in a cage  
stare at the bath  
then back  
   -_-_-___---  
 
recalculate  
(I'm shit at math)  
   
  I hold her close  
a silent show of solidarity  
I don't get popular culture  
references,  
I am an outlier  
on a thin, brittle wire  
   
Someone tell them  
I'll do what I want  
My sanity is more  
Important than this degree  
•-**//.~  
   I am lost in the  
Foam-bitten ocean  
of dreams of a land  
that will never hold  
my hand.  
 
Tell home I am  
sorry I have claimed it  
but do not breathe its air  
I am an adulterer.    
 
Siiiiiiir,  
 
I have acclimatised  
I have synchronised  
I am a symphony  
of long-distant yesterday's  
  My resistance sways.  
 
  Dainty, well-spoken  
accent of the Kings  
  (Ish)  
But I'm truly just a flea,  
A fly, a germ..can't you see?  
 
'If you're told something  
often enough, it becomes  
the truth.'  
 
Uncouth, I cough  
Clouded by carcinogenics  
Clouded by misaligned judgment  
  I become just what  
I hate..  
 
But I am not a slate  
I cannot be wiped clean  
I am not a slate  
I can but dream